Page 69 of Wings of Starlight

A solemn mood had come over them both; the flight back to the border passed in silence. Clarion could focus on little but the feeling of finality. Milori clearly felt it, too. He held on to the reins with a white-knuckled pressure, as though he could cling to these last few moments. She leaned her head back against his shoulder, letting her eyes fall half-lidded. From this vantage point, she caught glimpses of his loose white hair, unspooling like ribbons into the dark.

Noctua alighted, then immediately fluffed out her feathers. Her head seemed to recede into them. With the sun long since sunk below the horizon, the temperature had plummeted. Ice floes drifted on the river’s current, as glossy as sheets of black glass in the moonlight.

When Clarion dismounted, her boots sank deep into the snowdrifts. She hesitated, tipping her head back to peer up at Milori where he remained perched on Noctua’s back. In his diadem, frozen into jagged points, he looked so much like the statue of the Lord of Winter: as forlorn as he was formidable. Wind swept through Winter like a mournful sigh. It set his cloak billowing, and the thickening flurries drifted between them like a curtain.

She could not bring herself to say her goodbyes.

This is what it could be like,he’d said,if you wanted it to be.

After everything, did they not deserve happiness?

“Milori,” she began, at the same time he said, “I…”

He cleared his throat. “Go on.”

Clarion let out a shaky breath. “Will you come down first?”

Without hesitation, he dropped into the snow beside her. She still had to look up at him, but here on level ground, it felt less like he would slip away from her. She tugged her mittens off, one after the other. Gathering her nerve, she said, “I’ve been thinking.”

Milori’s voice was barely audible. “About what?”

“About what you said. I…” Her words left her in a rush. Any hope of being articulate had fled her entirely. Her mittens fell to the ground. She twined her fingers in the fabric of his cloak where it met at the dip of his collarbone. Holding his gaze, she said, “I don’t want to leave.”

Milori looked as though he had been waiting his entire life for those words. A dam had given way within him, and the emotion burning in his eyes broke over her like a wave. His hands came to rest over hers, his fingers encircling her wrists. She could feel the wild thrum of his heart beneath her touch, the chill of his skin seeping into hers.

“Then don’t,” he murmured into the bare space between them.

Don’t.As though it were the simplest thing in the world.

What else was there to do? She stood on her toes and kissed him.

For a moment, they remained suspended in a sort of tender disbelief. Then, his lips parted beneath hers, and Clarion felt herself catch flame. She tasted cocoa and cinnamon on her tongue, swallowed the hitch of his breath as she melted into him. His fingers threaded into the hair at the nape of her neck, angling her chin up toward him as he deepened the kiss. The pins holding her flower crown in place came loose, showering the earth at her feet with white petals and sweet pollen. His every touch set her nerves alight with both languid heat and searing cold.

Breathless, she pulled back. But even that small distance pained her. How she resented her own limitations right now—her body’s inability to tolerate his realm for long. “I’m freezing.”

“We can’t have that.” His lips brushed against hers with every syllable.

Neither of them seemed willing to part.

He gathered her into his arms and slowly walked her backward. Clarion laughed unsteadily, winding her arms around his neck for balance. He stopped only when they were bridged between worlds: her feet planted on the frost-laced moss, his in the shallow dusting of snow. But even here in Spring, the cold clung to her. Snow sparkled against her eyelashes, and the breath she shared with him plumed softly in the air.

This, she thought, was enough. They could make this work.

In that moment, there was nothing and no one but the two of them.

And then, a familiar voice cut through her joy: “Clarion!”

Elvina.

Elvina descended on them like a falling star, her glow blazing bright with the force of her anger. Milori did not let go of Clarion immediately; his fingers curled almost protectively around her upper arms. As much as she appreciated it, she would have much preferred to vanish entirely. To dissolve and be carried away like dandelion seeds on the wind.

This could not be happening.

When Elvina landed on the edge of the riverbank, Clarion nearly shrank back from her. Over the years, Clarion had seen many sides of Elvina; although she was an understated fairy, Clarion had come to understand and anticipate the subtle shifts of her emotions. Far too many times, she had seen her disappointment—but never anything like this. Her face was contorted with barely leashed fury, all the planes of her face carved in stark shadow and orange light.

But what stung even more was the sight of Petra and Artemis behind her. Petra hovered a short distance away, halfway concealed behind a blueberry thicket. Even so, Clarion could see how distressed she looked: her hands knotted together, her hair pulled loose from its elegant updo, her lip bitten raw.

Clarion cut her gaze to Artemis, who gave a subtle shake of her head. Clarion read her meaning:I had nothing to do with this.