Page 43 of Wings of Starlight

Rationally, sheknewshe should not have felt disappointed. It wasn’t as though Petra could disobey the queen so easily—not when her position as the royal tinker could be taken from her. And yet, it still stung.

“That’s good,” Clarion managed. “She is very talented.”

Elvina seemed to relax some at that. “Then try not to trouble yourself too much. I am handling this.”

“Of course,” she said.

But all she could think was,No. I am.

Just before sunset, Clarion threw her coat, mittens, and boots into a bag. She pushed open her balcony doors and stepped into the golden-hour light. Sunshine trickled thick as syrup through the branches of the Pixie Dust Tree, patterning the earth with dappled shadow. The leaves sighed softly in the breeze, as if wishing her farewell.

“Off again, Your Highness?”

Artemis sat in her usual perch, leafing through a book. Already, Artemis had grown so accustomed to their routine, she could not be bothered to glance up from…whatever it was she was doing. Clarion squinted at the cover; the title looked suspiciously likeThe Love Language of Flowers.

Clarion snorted. “What are you reading?”

“Nothing.” Artemis snapped it shut and glared. Then, recovering her decorum, she cleared her throat and added, “Please do not stay out too late.”

“I won’t.” She smiled innocently. “She likes daffodils, by the way.”

Artemis flushed. Clarion waved, then took flight toward Winter.

By the time she arrived, Milori was already waiting for her—and he wasn’t alone. A snowy owl, twice as tall as he was, stood beside him. Her blood ran cold with apprehension. Ever since she was a new arrival, it had been drilled into her that birds of prey were among the greatest threats to fairykind. And here was Milori, patting it as though it were as docile as a mouse! Truly, winter fairies feared nothing.

“What,” she said, “is that?”

“This is Noctua,” Milori replied, as though that were a perfectly comprehensive answer to her question. After a moment, he added, “She’s a snowy owl.”

Hehadtold her he was partial to owls. “You weren’t joking.”

The owl’s yellow eyes gleamed in the gathering dark. She moved with the cagey erraticism Clarion had never much trusted in birds, her head swiveling unnaturally on its neck. She was tethered by one of her terrifyingly clawed feet; Milori held the end of it like a leash.

“I would never joke about owls,” he said solemnly.

“Then you’re mad.”

Milori only smiled. “Would you like to meet her?”

Clarion swallowed her groan of dread. “Oh, yes. I’d love nothing more.”

She dropped her bag and retrieved her winter gear. Once she’d fastened the last button on her coat, she stepped over the border and let the cold of Winter flow over her like water. As she approached, she couldn’t help thinking Milori looked the warmest in the setting sun, with his wings shot through with shades of burnished gold and faintest red. And now that she forced herself to look closely, she could not deny that Noctua was a beautiful creature. Her feathers gleamed as white as the snow—as white as Milori’s hair. A crystal charm dangled from a cord wound around her neck; reins hung down her back.

“We’re going to ride her, aren’t we?” Clarion asked, as cheerfully as she could manage.

“Well…” Milori took hold of the reins and untethered Noctua’s leg. “Itwillbe faster than walking.”

“Are you sure about this?” Clarion asked.

“You’re about to face Nightmares willingly,” he said, “and you’re afraid of an owl.”

She resisted the urge to smack his arm. “I’m not afraid of her.”

He gave her a wry half smile, as if to say,Right. To his credit, he only asked, “Shall we?”

“If we must,” she muttered.

With a resigned sigh, Clarion climbed onto the owl’s back. Noctua swiveled her head 180 degrees to fix her with an inquisitive yellow stare. Clarion considered immediately throwing herself to the ground again. If this beast took off with Clarion still on her back, she would plummet to her death with her wings bound down as they were. Never had a fairy been afraid of heights until now.