Page 81 of Wings of Starlight

The thought of him—of a wish she carried safe within her—stirred something in her. Starlight kindled in the cold hollow of her chest, swirling through her like the comforting warmth of a fire in Autumn. Perhaps she could make that dream a reality for them both. Perhaps a good queenwaslike the star from which she was born. Not one cold and distant—but one that carried her subjects’ hopes forward.

If it was the very last thing she did, she had to make his sacrifices matter. She had to protect Pixie Hollow—and everyone she cared for—with all she had. That, she decided, was the kind of queen she was.

“I think I understand now,” Clarion murmured. “Thank you, Elvina. For everything.”

“Of course.” She looked somewhat surprised. “Now rest and recover your strength. We will find a way forward together.”

Together.It sounded like such a sweet concept. But this, she had to do alone. No one else would be hurt because of her failures.

When the door fell shut behind her, Clarion held to that determined spark of hope within her. It glowed, warm as an ember, then fanned itself brighter. To end this, she would have to face the Queen Nightmare alone—before it broke free.

She would have to go beneath the ice.

On the third day of her convalescence, Clarion plotted her escape.

She did not know if she would ever truly be ready to face the Nightmares again, but if her impending coronation had taught her anything, it was that one would never feel entirely ready for difficult things.

She waited until sunrise stained the horizon line bloodred and the morning sounds of Summer filtered through the cracked-open windows of the clinic. By now, Clarion had become attuned to the rhythms of life here. In these twilit hours, the healers kept up a steady stream of chatter in the next room over, gossiping about some workplace drama or another. Nothing terribly interesting, from what Clarion could gather. The cheerful cry of finches and soft calls of mourning doves filled the lulls in their conversation.

It was now or never.

Her winter coat lay folded at her bedside, and when she shook it loose, it was intact, notwithstanding a few bloodstains. It would survive at least one more trip into Winter. All that remained was leaving the clinic without being spotted. Which meant she would have to clear the last hurdle of governing-talent magic: teleportation.

She had never managed it before. But right now, with starlight burning steadily within her, she felt nothing but calm certainty. Clarion shrugged on her coat and jiggled the window the rest of the way open. Best if her first real attempt was not through a solid object, she decided. She drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes.

Now, if she just imagined herself growing lighter and lighter…

A radiance emanated from within her. When she lifted her hands to eye level, she could see her edges growing fainter and feathering out into golden sparks. The knee-jerk bolt of panic was quickly replaced with delight. Bit by bit, she dissolved into a shimmering cloud of pixie dust. As if summoned by her whims, the breeze kicked up. It danced through the leaves and carried her on its gentle current. She drifted through the open window, as soundless and shapeless as mist creeping down the mountainside. She drifted over the feverfews and made her way to the tree line. As soon as she was safely ensconced in the shadow of the woods, she allowed herself to take shape again.

She had done it.

Clarion laughed, a disbelieving sound. She felt disoriented and unsteady on her feet, but a quick glance down confirmed that all of her had indeed made it through. No limbs left behind—a success in her book. But she had no time to marvel at what she’d done.

Clarion took to the skies and set off for the border. Now that the spark of starlight within her had rekindled, the cold that had burrowed into her bones had begun to lift. Her glow was nowhere near its usual radiance, but the sunlight soaking into her wings felt almost healing. With every wingbeat, golden sparks danced through the air around her.

Below her, Needlepoint Meadow was a vast sea of green. Sprinting Thistles winnowed through the tall grass, occasionally knocking into one another in their haste. It was unusual to see so many of them crowded together, but Clarion soon saw the reason: a long, blackened strip of field, like a scar carved into the earth. The thistles must have been flushed out of their homes by the Nightmares. Determination flared within her, fanned by her anger.

Once and for all, she would end this.

When she arrived at the border, she felt a pang of both relief and sadness that the bridge stood empty.Good,she thought. It would make her task easier if she did not have to convince Milori to stay behind.

Clarion fastened the buttons of her coat and crossed into Winter. She stepped off the bridge and tipped her head toward the sky. For a few moments, she lingered here: breathing in the crisp air and the scent of the evergreens, savoring the nip of cold at her cheeks, watching the snowflakes tumble wildly down. She’d never seen the Winter Woods in the daylight. The snow glittered as though it were inlaid with diamond, and the ice scattered golden light across the ground.

Beautiful,she thought.

It amazed her how a place could carry both such joyful and painful memories. But she wanted to remember Winter like this: a friend, holding its companionate silence with her. The wind wove through her hair, tugging almost playfully at the ends.

“It’s time to set you free,” she murmured.

From here, it was a long journey to the Nightmares’ prison. If only she could summon Noctua…Clarion frowned as the idea came to her. It certainly couldn’t hurt to try. She brought her fingers to her lips and whistled.

Nothing happened.

Slowly, she dropped her hand to her side, feeling quite foolish for having attempted it. But then, an inquisitive hoot sounded just above her.

Clarion gasped. “Noctua!”

The owl swiveled her head to inspect Clarion. Somehow, she managed to look quite incredulous. Clearly, she had not expectedClarionto call her. Nevertheless, she hopped down from her perch and ruffled her feathers in greeting.