Page 76 of Wings of Starlight

Within its splendor, all the Nightmares were revealed: small and cowering and pathetic, exposed for the small things they were. Magic poured out of her relentlessly, incinerating them. When the light finally faded, wind sighed through the valley. What remained of the Nightmares scattered, carried through the air like grains of black sand.

And Clarion collapsed onto her knees.

Clarion felt hollow, as though someone had scraped the very marrow from her bones. The glimmer of starlight she usually sensed within her chest had gone as cold as ashes in a hearth.

Although exhaustion dragged her down, although her vision flickered black, she crawled toward Petra. When she at last made it, she let out a choked sob. Petra’s freckles seemed to disappear into the waxy pallor of her complexion. Her eyes roved behind closed lids, haunted by something Clarion could not see—something she could not save her from. Clarion could not bear it. She could not bear the weight of her failure any longer. She wanted to curl up in the snow beside her and surrender. She wanted to sleep for an age.

It would be so easy to sleep.

She did not know how long she knelt there before she heard the crunch of footsteps in the snow beside her. Clarion tipped her head toward the sound. Milori and Yarrow stood above her, wearing twinned looks of concern. She felt cold in a way not even the longest, most bitter night of Winter could manage. She felt it down to her very soul. It made her blood sluggish—and her thoughts even more so. Everything felt so unreal, she could not be certain if they were there at all.

“See Artemis first,” Clarion murmured. The words felt thick in her mouth; she could hardly force her lips to make the shape of them.

“The healers are seeing to her,” Milori replied softly.

“Good.” Her eyes fluttered shut. “It’s so cold.”

Distantly, she registered that Milori was speaking to Yarrow in low tones. She caught only fragments: “…too pale…do something…”

He was talking about her, she thought. Clarion forced herself to focus on Yarrow’s reply.

“I can’t do anything if there’s no wound to treat. The strain she’s put on herself…” The healer trailed off. “It’s bad, Milori. She’s entirely depleted. She needs to go back to the warm seasons immediately. Their healers will know what to do with her.”

Am I dying?she wondered. She felt so disconnected from her own body, the prospect hardly frightened her.

“Neither of her friends is in any condition to take her back,” Milori said. “I can get her to the edge of Spring.”

“And if you can’t find any warm fairies?” Yarrow demanded, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “Our scouts warned them of the attack. I can’t imagine anyone will be waiting at the border.”

His expression darkened. Clarion did not like the determined set of his jaw, the resigned squaring of his shoulders. An inchoate feeling of dread swirled through her, far worse than anything the Nightmares had inflicted on her. “Then I’ll do what I must.”

“Milori,” Yarrow said warningly.

“I understand the cost.”

“Do you really?”

Clarion caught a glimmer of the pain that lit Yarrow’s eyes—and how she offered no further protest when Milori knelt beside Clarion. He slid one arm underneath her and hoisted her up into his arms.

He beckoned over a scout-talent and whistled for Noctua. In an instant, the owl fluttered down from her perch. With the scout’s help, Milori hoisted Clarion onto Noctua’s back, then climbed on with her. The downy warmth of Noctua’s feathers comforted her.

As they took to the Winter skies, Clarion’s vision began to fade in and out. She could only faintly make out the planes of his face, gilded in moonlight, and his hair, a streak of snow white against the starlit sky. The storm had cleared, she thought hazily. He looked so beautiful—and so sad. Sensing her gaze on him, he glanced down at her. The worry creasing his brow broke her heart. More than anything, she wanted to take it away from him.

But in this moment, she was powerless.

She felt nothing but emptiness within her. A disconcerting numbness had taken over her entire body. If she let go, she thought she might drift away. It sounded so very tempting. Her eyelids were impossibly heavy. Through the snow matted in her eyelashes, she watched the stars dim. They were calling her name.

Clarion.

Or was that Milori?

“Clarion,” he said firmly. “Stay with me.”

She was so tired. But if Milori had asked her to stay…well, there was little in this world that she would deny him. Anything in her power to give was his. Her words were slurred when she said, “Talk to me.”

There was a moment of silence before he let out a breathless sound, as though he could not believe what he was about to say. “Did you know that I saw your star fall?”

At that, the tiniest spark of warmth kindled in her. Blearily, she smiled. “Really?”