The sound, a definite and desperate call for help, wafted from ahead. The rhythmic beat of Windracer’s hooves echoed in Star’s ears as they trod the damp earth. Usually the hoofbeats were enough to fill the silence. However, now she listened for more.
Never venture off course, Zetta’s voice screamed in her memory. Not for anything or anyone.
Despite the dire warning, Star’s interest grew with each galloping step. She chanced a look up at the sky. Nothing but mist hung above her head, and beyond that, endless clouds of gray. Star hadn’t felt the fluttering of the wings for some time now, and assumed the previous scare was probably a result of her wandering imagination.
Cursing her curiosity, Star pulled back on the reins. Windracer’s pace slowed to a canter, the horse’s deep heaves of breath pluming in the air from lungs as big as two pillows. The mist pressed in on them as an omnipresent force. Star listened for the giant undulations stirred by the Elyndras’ wings, the sound deep and airy like the spreading of a quilt, but silence prevailed. She had a few tenuous moments at best.
A raised path of beaten-down soil substituted for a road. Tall grasses and cattails surrounded the mound of dirt, as if the marsh reached out to reclaim the scar of land. She could not venture far. Her boots rose past her knees, but there was no telling how far down the bog sank.
Star did not know what would kill her first: drowning in the sludge or the hovering beasts that could pluck her from the bog with their slew of spindly legs. Suppressing a shudder, she dismounted and edged to the side of the road.
Windracer’s eyes rolled. She could sense danger from long distances. Star patted her on the nose. “It’s okay, girl, I’m not going far.”
Star stepped cautiously along the edge of the road, scanning the tall cattails for any sign of life. Up ahead, the grass shook. Something moved beneath the long stalks. Star took a deep breath, convincing herself the animal was too small to be anything threatening. She crept closer, her boots sticking in the muck. The air reeked of sour rot and dank wood. She covered her mouth with her sleeve.
When Star reached an arm’s length from the thicket, she crouched close to the ground, teetering, and swept back the long stems of swamp weed. An animal she least expected to see huddled underneath a mossy protrusion of rock. “A bunnyfly?”
Was this an elaborate hoax? Star took a step back, disbelieving. What was a bunnyfly doing out in the middle of nowhere, in hostile territory, no less? Originally scavengers, the fluttery animals were bred for centuries as play objects for rich children. They had no innate defenses or known purpose on the planet besides being adorable.
The animal flitted its glittery wings when it saw her and retreated further back in the crevice between the rock and the muddied earth. If she moved too quickly, she would scare the animal away and never get hold of it. Although the wings were more for show than anything else, it could hop large distances in a short amount of time.
Though the lost pet could scurry around fast, it would only survive the Elyndra for so long. Star felt compelled to save the bunnyfly. She checked on Windracer with a glance over her shoulder. The horse’s outline cast a slight black shadow in the mist, making both of them sitting targets. If the Elyndra took her horse, she would have no chance at survival. She could not tarry.
Bending down closer to the rock, Star cooed and sang to the bunnyfly, reaching out slowly with her hand. If only she knew its name. They usually responded when called. The animal edged back farther in the crevice, its floppy ears covering the front paws like velvet curtains.
Star remembered the piece of pastry bread stowed away in her cloak for a snack. Long journeys like this always made her hungry. Thankfully, she had packed provisions. With one hand, Star reached in her front pocket, crumbling the bread into small pieces. The bunnyfly sniffed the sugary scent right away, its large, innocent eyes changing from fearful to intrigued. Its nose crinkled, whiskers twitching.
“Come on, darling.” Star coaxed it out of the hole with a trail of sweet crumbs, leading to her coat pocket.
As soon as the bunnyfly chanced a hop closer, Star grabbed it with both hands, trying to be gentle but firm so it wouldn’t slip from her long fingers as she slid it between her coat and her blouse. She would have glitter and fur all over her, but she’d shake her clothes out later. At least now the bunnyfly was relatively safe.
Jumping back onto Windracer, Star cradled the bunnyfly along with her pack bag. Within a blink, they set off again on the dirt path leading to Ravencliff. She hadn’t noticed until now, but her heart thudded like a violent drum, blood pounding in her head and flushing her cheeks. She was lucky. She shouldn’t have ventured off course. It was only her third year as a messenger and she’d grown arrogant, assuming she could dismount and waltz around unguarded with no repercussions. Overconfidence led to laziness and a false sense of immortality. She thought of the many messengers that had been carried away, never to return.
As she reprimanded herself, the hulk of Ravencliff’s fortress towered over her. The footsteps of the mountain flanked the sheer edifice of ebony rock on either side, and the stone facade rose quickly from the smothering smog to claim the horizon. Balancing the letter bag and the bunnyfly, Star rode swiftly to the main gate.
Chapter 2
Nina’s Pet
Star hoped the guard stationed in the watch tower recognized the messenger’s symbol of two white wings embroidered across her windswept cloak. Windracer’s sides heaved with labored breaths and Star did not want to waste the horse’s last bit of energy circling the fortress. She’d heard stories of messengers left outside for too long—when the drawbridge finally lowered, they were nowhere to be found.
Before she had time to panic, she heard the rickety wheels lined with chains turn, and the drawbridge lowered in time for her to ride through the main gate without delay.
Windracer’s hoofbeats echoed as they crossed the massive planks. No sooner did they enter than the wheels cranked again in reverse, metal on metal, and the drawbridge rose, stifling the waft of mist trailing their heels. Star reined her horse in, completing a half circle in the main court before approaching the entry guard at the first checkpoint. “Star Nightengale from Evenspark reporting, sir.”
The guard scratched his stubble on his chin and ran a hand over his curly gray hair. His armor had dents and scuffs and he looked under-cared-for and overworked. He took a long moment to look up from the paperwork on his desk, scribbling in hasty strokes. Star wondered if he finished his own letter for her to carry on her way home.
After sifting through a stack of yellowed papers, he responded with a nod. “The servants’ quarters at the castle are full this night. You will stay at the Overflow Tavern.” He gestured with the tip of his writing quill toward the gate leading to the main city, past the front battlements.
“Thank you, sir.” Star dismounted, leaving Windracer to drink from the trough. She signed numerous documents confirming her arrival and receipt of payment, thinking about her accommodations as the parchment passed her hands. She’d delivered correspondence to the Overflow Tavern before, and though the lodging was far from opulent, the tavern was better than the servants’ quarters. However, she would be farther from the prince. Star sighed in annoyance with herself. She was being impractical and she knew it.
The guard pushed forward a rather hefty bag of coins and a note for the innkeeper. She handed him the documents, taking the items in her other hand. His eyes brightened. “You don’t, by any chance, have anything for a Hal Talern, do you?”
Star pursed her thin lips. This conversation followed her in both kingdoms. She saw more disappointment than satisfaction. It was as if she were the ruler of every expectation, dream and fear when, in fact,