Page 90 of Wings of Starlight

Very gently, she took one of Petra’s hands in both of hers. “When you wake up,” she whispered, “I have so much to tell you.”

And as if she had heard her, Petra stirred.

“Someone send for Artemis!” Clarion called. She only distantly registered a healing-talent reply, “At once, Your Highness!” Clarion could focus on little else but her own relief, the feeling as sparkling and light as sunshine.

Petra’s eyes blinked open, glassy and unfocused in her disorientation. Then, when she saw Clarion’s face hovering only inches away from her own, they went wide with shock. She let out a shriek and scrambled backward. “Clarion!”

“Petra.” Clarion’s voice wobbled humiliatingly.

“What are you—Oh.”

Clarion threw her arms around Petra and held her close. “You’re back. Thank the stars.”

Petra relaxed against her. “What happened? I feel so rested. And also like I’ve been running for days without stopping. The last thing I remember…”

Clarion drew back when she felt her shudder. Petra’s expression had grown haunted as the memories flooded back in.

“The Nightmares are gone now,” she said. “You’re safe.”

Clarion filled her in on what had happened since she had fallen under the Nightmares’ spell. By the time she finished, Petra was staring at her with infinite sympathy in her eyes. Clarion could hardly stand to look at her.

“I’m so sorry,” they each blurted out at the same time.

A beat of silence—and then both of them burst out laughing.

“You’resorry?” Clarion asked disbelievingly. “Why? I’m the one who needs to apologize to you.”

Petra’s brow furrowed. “For the distance between us.”

“Please don’t apologize for that,” Clarion said. “You’ve been nothing but a good friend to me. And I—”

“Hey.” Petra rested a hand on her arm. “You don’t need to beat yourself up, Clarion. I forgive you.”

“You do?”

“Of course I do.” Petra smiled at her. “Both of us were caught up in our own things. I know it’s going to take some time to figure out how to fit into each other’s lives once you’re queen. But I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thank you.”

Before Petra could reply, the curtains over the door of the clinic rustled violently. Both of them turned toward the entrance of the sickroom. Artemis hovered a short distance away, her eyes wild with commingled fear and hope. “Petra.”

Clarion had never heard her voice so fragile.

Artemis approached them, navigating the clutter and the maze of cots as best she could with her staff. Even so, she nearly knocked over everything in her haste. A healer standing at her workstation looked dismayed but said nothing. Instead, she busied herself with her mortar and pestle, grinding berries and herbs into a poultice.

When Artemis arrived at Petra’s bedside, she glared down at her.

“You—” Petra began, but she was silenced when the scout placed a kiss on her forehead, then, more tentatively, to her lips. By the time Artemis pulled back, Petra’s entire face was stained crimson.

“Don’tever,” Artemis said, “scare me like that again.”

“Finally,” Clarion muttered to herself. Then, to them, she said, “I’ll give you two a moment.”

But they hardly seemed to hear her.

Her chest ached with a pang of loneliness—and something like joy, too. If she could not have happiness, then at the very least her friends deserved it. She would not resent anyone for having what she had denied herself. Her heart—and all her devotion—belonged to her subjects now. Clarion turned her attention to the rest of the clinic.

There was still one other fairy she needed to visit.