Page 45 of Wings of Starlight

Her first thought was notcontrolbutprotect.

Her magic threaded itself into the tapestry of dream magic. As the Nightmares howled in rage, her power illuminated all the world in gold. Milori stared at her with open awe, his lips parted softly. She had to tear her eyes away from him to maintain her focus. Once she finished stitching the threadbare segment of the barrier, Milori could freeze over the shattered ice.

Something rumbled deep within the prison. The ice shuddered beneath her feet. Her magic flickered like a guttering candle, and she felt her work unraveling like a row of knit stitching pulled loose. A jolt of panic shot through her.

“Can you hold on?” Milori shouted.

“I think s—”

A resounding boom echoed through the clearing as a Nightmare threw itself against the barrier. Clarion wobbled, then lost her footing on the slick ice. Her stomach bottomed out as her feet slipped from beneath her. The connection with her magic snapped, and she landed hard on her back. Her breath whooshed out of her, and a sharp pain radiated through her wings. Ithurt. And yet, all she could dwell on was the frustration. She’d been so close. All that remained of her attempt was a fine layer of pixie dust on the moonlit ice, its glow fading like a dying ember. The shadows swam menacingly underneath her, exuding a palpable malice.

“Clarion!” Milori called. “Are you all right?”

Before she could respond, there came the low sound of splintering ice. Just behind Milori, a dark shape rose like smoke from the depths of the lake. It swirled, then expanded like a drop of ink in water. Clarion could make out the shape of wings; they unfurled and blocked out the meager light of the moon.

“Milori,” she whispered.

All the color drained from his face. Slowly, he turned to face it.

The smokelike form of the Nightmare writhed and bubbled until it took recognizable form: a raven. One by one, ten violet eyes blinked open on its body; all their pupils rattled, as if struggling to focus. Its talons flexed experimentally. Then, it beat its wings—once, twice—sending a fetid gust of air their way. It rose higher into the sky, with all its eyes fixed on her. The Nightmare-raven shrieked, then dove toward her.

She did not think. She rolled. A bright pain seared through her, but the Nightmare’s talons drove into the spot where she’d been lying only moments before. The beast recovered almost instantly, rounding on her again. Her heart pounded so loudly in her ears, she could scarcely hear the sound of her own ragged breaths. Its very presence was skin-crawling, muddying her mind with nothing but the steady refrain ofrun, run, run.

The Nightmare launched itself at her. The terror she’d tried to suppress simmered far too close to the surface. She couldn’t stop it. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t—

A blast of frost knocked it off course. The raven landed in a heap on the ice, dissolving into smoke before it re-formed, more horrific than before. Its wings sprouted, many-jointed and dripping viscous shadow as it took to the skies. It let out another cry, so piercing that Clarion felt it resonating in her very bones. It dove, its talons outstretched toward Milori.

“Noctua!” he shouted. “Now!”

Noctua screeched, a sound of pure fury. She descended on the Nightmare like a snowstorm, all thrashing wingbeats and rending talons. They tore across the sky, a scrabbling tangle of black and white. Clarion watched with her heart in her throat until Noctua managed to free herself, with a trail of smoke dripping from her beak like blood.

Clarion decided that perhaps she would have to revise her opinion of owls.

The Nightmare seized its opportunity. With a beat of its crumbling wings, it ascended until it was silhouetted by the pale face of the waxing moon. Then, with a final cry, it dove and vanished into the woods.

Clarion crumpled to her knees, then drove her fist into the ice with a shout of frustration. How could she have been soinept? She’d had it, and then she’d let it escape. As the adrenaline wore off, she began to shiver all over with nerves. Her heavy breaths misted in the air.

“Clarion.” Milori kept his voice level, but Clarion recognized strangled panic when she heard it.

“I’m so sorry. I never should have—”

“Clarion,” he repeated, more firmly this time. “You’re bleeding.”

She glanced down. A stain of red blossomed on her arm. Now that she’d noticed it, the pain—and the cold—flooded in. She clutched her wound to stanch the bleeding but shivered at the sensation of her wet skin already cooling. “Oh.”

Her coat sleeve had torn.

Don’t panic.Clarion blew out a steadying breath. As long as her wings remained insulated, she wasn’t in any danger.

Milori soared over the short distance between them. “Are you all right?”

“It’s only a scratch,” she said hastily. A deep one, yes, but it wasn’t life-threatening. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t able to do it.”

“No.I’mthe one who should be sorry.” Milori’s expression was agonized. “I put you in danger.”

Milori carried far too much guilt already. She refused to let him add her to his ledger. She jabbed a finger at him. “Youdidn’t do anything. I put myself in danger, and as the soon-to-be Queen of Pixie Hollow, I won’t hear otherwise.”

He looked very much like he wanted to press the matter, but he’d thought better of it now that she had pulled rank on him. “I’m going to repair the damage they did to the ice. After that, we should get you to a healer.”