Page 71 of Wings of Starlight

And then, something shot across the sky: a gold streak of pixie dust, impossibly bright against the thickening gloom. As it drew closer, Clarion realized it was a scout-talent from Winter, hurtling straight for them.

Although the sparrow man was still dressed in his finery, he clutched his bow in his white-knuckled hand. His chest heaved, and his eyes were wild—and glassy, as though still staring out at something not truly there.

“Milori,” he choked out at last. “There’s been an attack.”

Milori’s studiously calm expression splintered. “What?”

“The Nightmares,” the scout wheezed. “They’ve flooded the festival—more than we’ve ever seen. My unit is leading as many fairies as they can to the Hall of Winter, but…”

Clarion felt his pause like a physical blow. She felt as though she were free-falling, plunged into a mire of confusion and guilt. This shouldn’t have happened. But wasn’t that what she’d believed about the fairies still locked in their eternal slumber? What she and Milori had accomplished was nothing more than a handful of sand shored up against the rising tide. They hadn’t accomplished anything at all.

This is all your fault,her self-doubt hissed.

Just how many had they lost to the Nightmares’ spell this time?

Resurfacing from her shock, Clarion demanded, “How could they have broken free again?”

Understanding broke open Elvina’s stupor. “You attempted to seal them away.”

“I…I don’t know.” Milori shook his head. Clarion had never seen him so rattled, but he gathered his resolve enough to speak steadily: “I have to go.”

Clarion seized hold of his elbow and held his gaze. “I’m coming with you.”

The gratitude that lit Milori’s eyes knocked her nearly breathless.

“Clarion.” A pleading note knifed into Elvina’s voice. “Don’t do this.”

Clarion spared only a glance backward. Her gaze landed on Petra, whose eyes were wide open and shining with an emotion she could not place. Perhaps she and Elvina were right: her feelings for Milori had made her reckless. But with this protective, righteous fury burning within her, she’d never felt more attuned to her purpose.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I have to.”

Turning her back on her friends and her mentor, she followed Milori into the bitter chill of Winter.

Please don’t let us be too late.

Clarion clung to that plea like a lifeline as they soared toward the festival grounds, as tightly as she did to Milori. He held fast to Noctua’s reins, guiding them through the brewing storm. This high up, the clouds—a near black in the dark—drifted over her vision like a smear of wildfire smoke. Heavy snowfall buffeted her, clumping heavily in her eyelashes and stinging her face like volleys of ice. Every gust of wind knocked them off course, and Clarion could have sworn she heard a voice carried on it.

Fall,it whispered.

For the first time in all her crossings of its border, Winter felt hostile.

A flicker of shadow in the corner of her vision snagged her attention. Clarion whirled toward it—only to see something hurtling toward them: a winged shape, traced in the violet glow of the Nightmares’ power.

“Milori!” she called. “Look out!”

His head snapped toward the Nightmare. A flash of lightning split open the sky, illuminating the beast for one terrible moment.

He jerked the reins, and Noctua veered out of the Nightmare’s path. Milori flattened himself against the owl’s back to maintain his balance, dragging Clarion along with him—just in time to avoid the creature’s talons reaching toward them. She pressed her forehead against his shoulder blades and let out a tremulous breath, horrified at how close she’d come to losing both her seatandher head. Staying astride Noctua for a casual flight was one thing, but combat was quickly proving to be another entirely.

Clarion looked up to see the Nightmare circling around again. It had contorted itself into the shape of an owl: a grotesque mockery of Noctua. Its beak curved over a set of unsettlingly human teeth, which were bared in an empty smile. Worse, just beyond the shadow of its wingspan, she spied a dark cloud moving toward them with alarming speed. A chittering sound, distant at first, swelled to a high-pitched shriek that resonated through her very bones. No, not a cloud—but a group of Nightmares, carried on insects’ wings. Even from here, Clarion couldfeeltheir hunger.

Fear skittered over her. They’d never survive if the swarm reached them. There had to be hundreds of them. Hadallthe Nightmares broken free?

“We need to land,” Clarion shouted over the wail of the wind. “Now.”

Milori stared out at the encroaching Nightmares, a muscle feathering in his jaw. “All right. Hold on.”

Clarion obeyed. With that, Milori gave Noctua the reins. The owl tucked her wings into her body and dove headfirst toward the forest below.