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There are things hidden from all except those who know exactly where to look.
Few will ever know that even the most mundane thing—the waning of the moon, the flow of the tide, the serendipitous reappearance of a lost trinket beneath your kitchen table—is magical.
It is said that if you soar past the second star on the right and go straight on till morning, you will reach it, too: the Queendom of Pixie Hollow. Considered from above, Pixie Hollow is like a cake sliced into four generous pieces. At its heart is the Pixie Dust Tree, luminous and golden as a candle in the darkness. To the east is Spring Valley, where the flowers remain forever in bloom. To the south: the Summer Glade, where the days stretch long and languid as a drowsing cat. To the west: the Autumn Forest, cool and crisp and ablaze with color. Then, to the north, there are the Winter
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The Queen of Pixie Hollow does not belong among her subjects.
Ever since her Arrival—the night she emerged from a fallen star, as all the Queens of Pixie Hollow before her had—Elvina had impressed upon her that she was different. That they were different, marked indelibly with stardust. Besides Elvina, Clarion was the only governing-talent in all of Pixie Hollow.
What kind of queen would she be if she turned away from the suffering of even the smallest of her subjects?
Clarion wondered what it must be like to feel as though you belonged somewhere—to have so many others to turn to, who all understood you so completely.
She should have wanted this: respect, deference, impartial distance. But she didn’t. More than anything, she wanted the only thing that felt truly impossible: to be known.
The sight of her subjects, so completely and uncomplicatedly happy, should have delighted her. But right now, it was only a painful reminder of her own queenly solitude. As much as she wanted to, she would never truly belong among them.
From the warm, secluded safety of her bedroom, there was something so peaceful about it—and so terribly lonely. Just like her.
She deserved happiness.
Unlike light-talent fairies, governing-talent fairies did not need to manipulate a source of light. Born from fallen stars, they carried wells of starlight within themselves. Their magic could cut through absolute darkness—and most anything else in its path. It could be shaped into a shield to protect the queendom. More than anything, it was a symbol: something the citizens of Pixie Hollow could believe in.
you cannot help every fairy in need, and you certainly cannot befriend them all. A good queen must focus on the task at hand—and help at scale. This is a vast queendom.”
“To be a good queen—” “Is to be as cold and remote as the star from which you were born,”
Tomorrow, then. Starting tomorrow, she would try to act like the queen Pixie Hollow needed.
Some wounds, Clarion supposed, should not be picked at.
Respect, was it? Even if she wanted it, she hardly felt worthy of it.
A true Queen of Pixie Hollow could show no cracks.
If Winter and the warm seasons were truly meant to be apart, then why did this bridge exist at all?
“I’m afraid it already has. Our scouts saw it just before
“Dangerous or not, evenings are the only time that’s truly mine.”
What must it be like, she wondered, to be so certain of your path? What must it be like to share it?
Orders were not for her to question, nor for her to understand.
How many times would she be forced to stay back? Excluded from aiding in the protection of her people? “What good is a queen if she’s forbidden to do a single thing?”
“Better than a dead one,”
He reached for a loose strand of her hair, and she stopped breathing entirely. For a moment, she thought he meant to tuck it behind her ear or brush off the ice that clung to it. But he must have thought better of it, for his arm dropped back to his side. She reminded herself sharply not to be disappointed.
“Crawling with monsters,” Milori echoed with some wonderment in his tone. “So why did you agree to come here with me if that’s what you thought? You could have been attacked. Or I could have spirited you away.” “Could you have?” Clarion asked, unable to keep her own amusement out of her voice. “I mean no offense, but you’re not very frightening.” “No?” He tilted his head at her, and his eyes were practically aglow with something like mischief. “How do you find me, then?” Her face burned, and her heart fluttered. How infuriating, she thought, that a single look from him was all it took to
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If there’s one thing stronger than fear, it’s hope.”
Without thinking, Clarion turned her face into the crook of Milori’s neck and tried not to notice the way his breath hitched.
“Well, that didn’t go entirely as planned.” She startled a laugh out of him. It was a nice sound, made sweeter for how rare it was. “No, it certainly didn’t.” “But we’ll find a way,” she said. “Next time will be better.” “Next time,” he echoed, as solemn as a promise. “I’ll need to get my coat repaired first.” She plucked at a loose thread on her sleeve. “I’m not sure how long it will take. It took a few days for her to make it the first time.” “I don’t mind,” he said. “I’ll wait for you.” Clarion frowned as he fixed his gaze straight ahead. There was something terribly vulnerable on his face.
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He was gazing at her like she was something to marvel at. His expression went soft and unguarded when he noticed her staring back at him, as though he hadn’t expected to be caught but did not mind it overmuch. There was no mistaking the wide-open yearning in his eyes. He had looked at her like this once before, she realized: the very first time she’d crossed into Winter. She wondered exactly how long he had wanted to kiss her—and felt very foolish, indeed, for being so oblivious. And yet, Milori sat as if frozen.
Happiness, she thought, far purer than any she had ever felt—and magic. She felt it trilling in her bones and weaving through her fingertips, eager to apply itself. This time, it did not feel like something she had to master. It felt like a river—like a deep and inexhaustible well. It flowed forth until her entire body radiated a soft golden light.
“You’re incredible.” For perhaps the first time, she believed it.
As Clarion, she could care for him. But the Queen of Pixie Hollow could never truly be with him—or anyone else.
“I have to confess,” she said, “that I lied. Everything is not all right.” “Oh,” he said, in a tone that suggested he did not know whether he ought to feign surprise. “Can I ask what troubles you?” She couldn’t decide if she should laugh or weep. How could she possibly answer that question? Now that they’d done what they set out to do, they had no reason to see each other anymore. “I’m going to miss you.” “Is that all?” he asked. “You can come back tomorrow.” “I can’t.” Frustration and longing both bubbled up within her. If only it were that simple. “My coronation is in just over a week,
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With time, perhaps these feelings would fade to little more than a memory. In the meantime, she would have to practice.
Too late, she registered that she had not withdrawn from him—that she had not wanted to, despite the distance she knew very well she should hold between them. It would be a simple thing, to rise onto her toes and kiss him as she had the other night, to thread her fingers into his snow-white hair. His gaze trailed down her face and lingered, just for a moment, on her lips. He was right that he had never exactly been subtle; Clarion knew, down to the stardust in her bones, that he would let her. And yet, he stood as still as a sparrow man carved from ice.
It took only a moment for him to realize that she had turned his own words back on him. A glimmer of bittersweet yearning lit his eyes, and Clarion knew then and there that she had crossed a line she might never recover from. Perhaps it would have been better not knowing what she was missing. Perhaps it would have been better to pine than to mourn.
How had she ever believed she could keep her feelings out of it when they reunited?
She could not bring herself to say her goodbyes. This is what it could be like, he’d said, if you wanted it to be. After everything, did they not deserve happiness?
“I don’t want to leave.” Milori looked as though he had been waiting his entire life for those words. A dam had given way within him, and the emotion burning in his eyes broke over her like a wave. His hands came to rest over hers, his fingers encircling her wrists. She could feel the wild thrum of his heart beneath her touch, the chill of his skin seeping into hers. “Then don’t,” he murmured into the bare space between them. Don’t. As though it were the simplest thing in the world. What else was there to do? She stood on her toes and kissed him. For a moment, they remained suspended in a sort
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This, she thought, was enough. They could make this work. In that moment, there was nothing and no one but the two of them.
“I have tried to live up to the standard you have set, all in the hopes that I would be worthy of the crown. I have tried so hard to be just like you. But I’m not. This is what Winter has taught me.”
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.
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.
A wish? One was not supposed to share their wishes, she knew. It tended to render them powerless. But surely, if it had been made upon her own star, she could keep it safe for him.
As if he sensed the turn of her thoughts, he answered. “I wished that there could be a different future for me in Pixie Hollow,” he said quietly. “One where I was not bound to the Nightmares. Where maybe our worlds were not so divided.”
If he crossed the border, he would break his wings.
“Your wings.”
“Clarion.” He said her name like a plea. “Weighed against your life, they are nothing to me. I would make that trade every time.”
