Page 86 of Wings of Starlight

Her vision blurred with unshed tears, but she blinked them back fiercely. “You should have left me on the border.”

“No.” Milori turned to face her, resting his hands firmly on her shoulders. The flash of vulnerability in his eyes devastated her. Beneath his gaze, she could almost believe she was something precious and irreplaceable. “I couldn’t have done that. This will be an adjustment, yes. But in Winter, scars like this are a sign of honor, and it isn’t as though I’ll never fly again. I have Noctua.”

She knew, of course, that it was all true. For what he’d done, he’d be recognized as a hero. And yet, this should have been soavoidable. “You didn’t even hesitate. Why?”

“I think you know why, Clarion.”

His voice was low and gentle—and so achingly bittersweet, she could hardly stand it. Of course she knew why. It was the same reason her heart was shattering now.

As she stared up at him, into his earnest gray eyes, the immensity of the feeling that overcame her seemed like both a revelation and an inevitability.

She loved him.

Perhaps she was always bound to, from the very moment she saw him standing on the border. How could she not? She loved his steadfastness, his kindness, even his reckless, selfless bravery. She loved his wry humor and his unshakable devotion to his people. She loved him because he had set her free, too.

And yet, he had broken her heart.

If anything happened to him, she would not survive it. And Milori, loyal to his very core, would throw himself in danger for her time and time again. Now, she saw the full truth of Elvina’s wisdom. Love opened you up to too much pain. Love divided your allegiances, your priorities. For most anyone in Pixie Hollow, it would be acceptable, but for the Lord of Winter…

It was too dangerous to love her.

“I do,” Clarion whispered.

The warmth shining in Milori’s eyes faded as he drank in her expression. “I understand if you don’t feel the same, but I—”

“It isn’t that.” Her voice trembled. No, she could not cry now. She could not bear for him to doubt her conviction. But it felt too difficult to breathe through the pain in her chest. She hadn’t known it would feel likethis—as though her heart were truly crumbling. “You can’t. It will impede your ability to lead.”

“No.” Milori looked like a man in free fall, as though he could find nothing solid to hold on to—like everything he believed he had was rapidly slipping through his fingers. “You don’t know that—not for certain.”

“It will impedemyability to lead.” It already had. She would sooner see Pixie Hollow rot, her worst nightmare brought to horrible reality, than see any harm befall him ever again. “I would make every decision thinking of you. I would risk anything,everything, to protect you. Do you understand? I love you, Milori. It scares me too much.”

“I love you, too,” he said miserably.

Hearing those words nearly undid her.Good,she thought.Let this pain serve as a reminder of how desperately needed our separation is.

A love like theirs was ruinous. A broken wing was nothing compared to a broken heart. She could only hope that the pain of both would fade with time.

She armored herself with resolve—with resignation. When she spoke again, her voice was even. “I will ensure the world we both dreamed of exists. But no one else should have to endure what we have. Crossing the border is too dangerous. It should be forbidden. Effective immediately.”

There was no blame in his expression, but what she found there—something between a plea and a challenge—hurt to look at. His eyes, usually the placid silver of moonlit water, now seemed to her the slate gray of the Never Sea, deep and wild. They would pull her under.

“If that is truly what you want,” he said, with more composure than she expected, “I will uphold your rule.”

“It is.” Her very soul cried out in protest as she spoke those words. “It is what I want.”

But as soon as the last word fell like a stone between them, she realized what a fool she’d been to believe he would make this easy for her. She did not know which of them moved first.

They crashed together, and his mouth was on hers with a desperation that left her breathless. She met him with equal fervor. Her world narrowed to this: His hair, slipping through her fingers like water. His hands, skimming down the ridge of her spine and spanning the curve of her waist. He drew her closer, as if he wanted to erase all the space between them. As if they could ever be close enough. As if she could express the depths of her longing for the time they’d never have.

They broke apart, their breaths ragged. He leaned his forehead against hers and cradled her face in his hands. He traced her cheekbones, the line of her jaw, the bow of her lips, with such reverence, it was as though he was committing every detail to memory. Dimly, Clarion registered the dampness of tears on her face. Whose they were, she did not know. With the pad of his thumb, he swiped them away.

“All right,” he said quietly, once he’d set her to rights. His touch fell away, leaving her bereft. “Let’s get you back across the border.”

Please,she wanted to say.Just a little longer.Instead, her voice little more than a whisper, she replied, “All right.”

He whistled for Noctua. Within moments, the span of her wings blotted out the moonlight. As Clarion climbed onto her back, she refused to think about how this might be the very last time she ever rode on owlback. She could not dwell on all the winter fairies she would never get to meet and all the wondrous places she would never venture. Never again would she hear the crunch of her footsteps in the fresh-fallen snow. Never again would she feel the dance of the cold northern wind in her hair. Never again would she walk alongside the sparrow man she’d once thought so stoic. He’d never taught her to skate.

Stars, she was not strong enough to do this.