Star could barely make out the shape of a young man’s face underneath his wiry brown hair. The dim light from an upper window shone further down the way and she dragged him underneath it to identify him. He looked impoverished, skinny as a lamppost, with pock-marked skin and watery eyes. The recent scar boiling above the bridge of his nose looked infected. As much as he repulsed her and set back her delivery, a rush of sympathy swelled in her heart for the vagrant.
“Messenger, heh? Well, I’ve got a message for you.” The man wiggled and she pressed the dagger closer until the cool metal of the blade touched his skin. He stopped moving, but his eyes were still wild. “Deliver all the messages you want on that high horse of yours, collect everyone’s money ’til you’re richer than the king himself, but none of it will save you when they come.” The man smirked, displaying a mouth full of broken, yellow teeth.
Star paused. The man must be delirious, but she had to ask. “Who? Who is coming?”
The man laughed, first quietly to himself before erupting into a full belly rumble, his ragged voice echoing out into the night.
Star let him go, disgusted. The street urchin slunk into the darkness without further quarreling, but his comment left a mark on her composure, a stain of doubt that her life was not as perfect as she imagined it to be.
She was grateful to see Windracer’s familiar silhouette against the backdrop of the alley. As trained, the mare remained stationed where she left her. “Come on, girl, we have a letter to deliver.”
Star remounted and continued her search. The farther she went into the outskirts, the dimmer the streets became. Not only were they severely deprived of light, but grunge and debris blocked whatever warm glow trickled from the crude windows of the inner dwellings. Star struck another match, taking note of how many she had left. This time she didn’t care whom she summoned from the bowels of the underworld. Her sole purpose was to get the letter delivered in order to return home.
Number 11678 rested in the corner, behind a heap of fallen rubble. Star dismounted and struck yet another flame, throwing the previous matchstick on the littered ground below. She picked a haphazard path through the ruins, careful not to tread on a shard of broken glass or upturned scrap metal. After a swift knock, she waited at the sloped entrance.
The door opened and a young man emerged, his face illuminated by the flickering of the matchstick. He wore only a pair of black leather pants, his upper body naked, exposing sinuous muscles covered in painted tattoos. A herd of racing horses ran down his arm in blue-black ink. Star had to keep her head up and remind herself not to stare at the elaborate decorations or the curves of his chest.
His chin jutted out from a strong-boned face that commanded respect. He looked like a lion waiting to pounce. He smiled at Star like he wondered whether to eat her. “Yes?”
Star did not flinch. She thought she could outwit him, if need be. “I have a message for a Fallon Leer.”
The man leaned against the opened door. “That’s me.”
Star held her head high. With one eyebrow arched, she leveled her eyes with his own penetrating gaze. “I need to see identification.”
With a furtive glance at Star, the man reached in his pocket and brought out a woven chain. Suspended on the necklace hung a metal tag glittering in the glowing embers of Star’s matchstick. Sure enough, the tag read Fallon Leer. Star recognized the gold inscription immediately. He was a former member of Ravencliff’s elite Royal Guard. Either he’d quit or they’d thrown him out.
Star didn’t have the time to consider his deposition further. She dutifully brought out the letter. “It is my job to warn you there is no return address. Open it with discretion.”
Fallon Leer laughed lightly, his voice smooth as aged wine. “I know who it’s from, thank you.”
Star turned around, but the man grabbed her hand with his own callused fingertips, his skin rough and hot to her touch. For a moment she thought she would have to test her combat skills once again, but he released her. “Wait.” He disappeared inside the darkness of his shambled quarters before emerging with another letter. “This goes directly to Zetta.”
Star froze at the mention of her superior’s name. Why would a scoundrel like him know Zetta? But under the terms of her messenger code, her lips remained sealed like the secret letter he held in his hands.
“And the payment?”
“To be paid by the recipient.”
She considered his request, weighing the unlikely possibility Zetta would pay for any letter from him. But it wasn’t in her authority to inquire. If Zetta refused to pay for it, the letter would be shredded and discarded. She could not bend the rule of the Interkingdom Carriers. Taking it from his hands, Star slipped the letter into her carrier bag and turned away.
He called after her, a comical lilt to his tone. “It’s a little late for a messenger to be gallivanting around, isn’t it?”
Star turned back, her hair whipping around her face in a shining veil. “I can take care of myself.” His eyes flared as if he found her bold retort appealing. Feeling a little awkward, she mounted Windracer and rode away.
* * * *
When Star returned to the Overflow Tavern, most of the booths were empty. Hilda had stacked mugs in toppling array on the bar and wiped the tabletops with a rag and soapy water. Dinner had ended long ago.
“Long day?” Hilda asked as Star plopped herself down into a booth by the windowsill. She was grateful to have a warmly lit place to return to, but somehow the glow of firelight couldn’t quite shake the haunting images of the night’s rambles out of her head. At least her bag was empty.
“You could say that, yes.”
Hilda grinned wide. “Let me get you our special tonight. It will make it all worth it. I hope you got a substantial reward for returning that bunnyfly.”
The barmaid’s comment reminded Star of Valen’s gift. Digging in her coat, she brought the gilded box into the lantern light, and it sparkled as though a chip of the rising sun had fallen into her hands. Star immediately held it down, afraid to draw attention, as two men sauntered in from the night and sat in the booth behind her. One was older, almost her father’s age, and the other was not much older than herself.
As she smoothed her fingertips over the lid, she overheard their conversation waft up from the wooden stalls.
“More and more these days, there’s talk of war.”
“It’s a good thing that mist is holding back Evenspark’s army,” the younger man grumbled. “The Queen of Evenspark’s been raving mad ever since our king took that silly nobody as his bride.”
“Ha. He passed her up many years ago for a barmaid, a young girl, nonetheless.”
“She’s a nobody.”
“But she’s beautiful, and from what I hear, Evenspark’s queen isn’t exactly a swan, you know.”
“What have you heard?”
The older man’s voice fell to a whisper. “I heard she’s got some hideous disease, skin all puckered up with pus and blood.”
Star shook her head in disgust of the gossip. The rumors of Evenspark’s disfigured queen had spun out of control ever since her birth. The queen was a reclusive sort, sequestering herself in the castle and only showing her veiled face at royal ceremonies. But it was no reason for Ravencliff’s ruffians to create pernicious lies.
She’d had enough of their ridiculous talk and took a quick breath of air, ready to intrude when the younger man responded in exasperation. “Naw. That’s only a story meant to scare tots into eating their vegetables. No one’s actually seen her face. She’s always wearing some veil or another.”
“What with the Elyndra, you’d think they have enough scary stories for the little ’uns. No, I think there’s some truth in it. Why else would she hide her face?”
Star braced herself for a fight, but the younger man brushed it off. “Suit yourself, it’s a moot point anyway. He married the girl nobody and now they have Bellanina.”
“Yes, but the king doesn’t need another heir. Prince Valen is quite enough to keep the kingdom going.”
“And dual heirs always stir up trouble.”
Star hunched down. The conversation grew increasingly intriguing. If they caught her eavesdropping, their tongues would not wag any further.
“Let us hope Valen can smooth over any quarrels.”
“Yeah, there’s Princess Vespa, the queen’s niece over in Evenspark. There are rumors Valen’s betrothed to her already.”
The word betrothed assaulted her ears and Star’s heart felt like it tore into two halves. The door to her hopes slammed with a rude thud. She couldn’t help but keep listening, like one captivated by a hunter’s arrow as it rode the wind to strike a deer.
“Let’s hope he doesn’t mess it up like his father.”
“Yeah, choose some beautiful girl nobody and make everyone angry.”
Star looked at the gilded box guiltily. She couldn’t possibly be the one to steal Valen’s heart. Slowly, her fingernails pried open the latch and she raised the lid.
Inside laid a jeweled necklace with a ruby, bigger than her eye, chipped into the unmistakable shape of a heart.
Chapter 5
Special Delivery
A rolling mass of clouds filled the sky as Star prepared for her journey back to Evenspark. Ravencliff’s crimson flags stretched taut in the wind gushing from the east. A storm brewed just beyond the mountains clustered around the city’s edge. If Star was lucky, she could outrun it, but it was unlikely. She would have to deal with mist, dangerous flying beasts and torrents of rain.
Despite the urgency of the moment, Star couldn’t help but feel a nonsensical urge to remain at Ravencliff. She had tossed in her sweat-drenched sheets all night, her limbs filled with agitation and her heart at odds with reason. Did she intend to take down a kingdom with an infatuation? Actually, the best thing she could do was stay far away from Valen and let fate spin its course unhindered.
After stuffing the last batch of outgoing letters into her carrier bag, Star mounted Windracer and turned to the lead guard on duty. “Throw down the drawbridge. I am ready to depart.”
Draft horses, as tough as dragons, heaved and the wheels of the gate turned. The metal chains clinked, slowly at first then increasing speed until a rhythmic percussion of chinks filled the air. Star felt Windracer gearing up, her front hoof stomping the ground in anticipation.
Then a horn blew, wailing like the complaint of a suffering banshee. A guard calmed the horses and the wheels rumbled to a halt. The drawbridge hovered in midair, a slim crack between wood and stone revealing a misted slate of endless pewter. Frustrated, Star turned around in her saddle.
The cause of the delay appeared to be a hooded figure riding a stallion. The horse dashed toward her, past the guards of the courtyard, stirring up dust in its wake.
Star’s anger caught fire. Not only was the rider interfering with her schedule, but he also put her at odds with the upcoming storm. She needed to get back as soon as possible. She had worked hard to catch up all day yesterday, and now here was one person wanting to delay everyone’s letters and Star’s duty.
In the turbulence of the ride, with the wind whipping against the rider, the hood fell free. Star recognized Valen and her irritation fizzled. Closing the last few paces, he rode up beside her. “My apologies, Miss Nightengale.” The prince looked like he hadn’t slept well either. Dark circles framed his keen blue eyes, and his wavy hair jutted out at all angles. “I have one more letter for you to deliver.”
She didn’t want to create a scene in front of the guards or put him in any questionable circumstances where people would gossip about them. She wondered if he had contrived some fake letter just to see her again. A part of her hoped, but another part dreaded. She had no desire to sunder relations between the two kingdoms. “You could have waited. The next messenger rides out today.”
“No.” He shook his head as if to drive phantoms out of his thoughts. “This could not wait.”
Star took the letter in her hands, her fingers clumsily brushing his. She couldn’t help but read to whom it was addressed. He’d hastily scribbled Evenspark Castle, Princess Vespa on the front.
Her thoughts reeled, turned upside down. Perhaps she had misread his every move. Perhaps, to him, she was only a messenger, delivering a love letter to the correct recipient. How could she have been so stupid?
Her eyes welled with unwanted tears and she turned away to hide her embarrassment. “I’ll make sure she receives it.” Her lips tightened.
The prince pulled her back, forcing her to look into his eyes. His breath fell on her lips. “You make your own destiny.”
Not knowing what his words meant, Star yanked Windracer’s harness and turned away.
“Guard, I’m ready. Lower the gate.” The guard turned to Valen, since he’d signaled the initial halt.
Valen waved. “Yes, let the bridge down. Let her go.”
The lowering of the drawbridge passed in awkward silence. For Star, it seemed like an eternity. The moment the wood touched ground, she whipped the reins and burst into motion, leaving without another word. Even though she told herself not to, as she crossed the drawbridge, she couldn’t help but look back. The prince stood where she had left him, his hand rising in silent farewell.
Star’s thoughts boiled into turmoil and the misted countryside held no distraction. Fate’s cruel irony laughed in her face as she held the letter addressed to Princess Vespa in her carrier bag. She would deliver it, of course. It was her duty. But she didn’t have to relish the task.
Suddenly, a giant flutter and a gust of wind soared above her head. Star looked up just in time to see the mist curl around a set of black spidery legs. She tried to calm her heart as it sprinted ahead, skipping a few beats. The beast would have to time the arc of its descent precisely when Windracer would pass underneath.
Star crouched in her saddle, searching the tendrils of mist hovering over her. As if drawing on Star’s growing fear, Windracer quickened her pace. Star wondered how long her horse would be able to keep up the faster gait, and if the Elyndra could calculate its plunge once again with the change of speed in mind. Slowly, careful not to fall out of her saddle, Star reached behind her and unsheathed her dagger. Next time, she would be ready for the attack.
Sure enough, several heartbeats later, the rush of air came again. Star ducked in the saddle, raising her arm with the dagger in hand. She felt a thorny appendage scratch her forearm, groping at her. Star thrust the dagger upward, but was not able to reach high enough to stab the belly of the beast. The Elyndra flew away again, empty-handed.
Star held her wounded arm like it was a baby, rubbing it with her other hand. It was fortunate that her cloak had long sleeves. The fabric was torn in a gash, ripping down the length of her arm.
She twisted the reins around her arm in several loops. Next, she dug her feet deeper into the stirrups, locking them in place. If the beast attempted to pick her up, then it would have to carry her horse as well, and she didn’t think it could manage the extra burden.
Star sheathed the dagger. The blade reached too short to cause any damage and the iridescent carapace covering the Elyndra’s legs was too thick to penetrate. She would have to think of another tactic.
But she did not have enough time before it attacked again. Star’s initial shock gave way to blazing fury, and this time she grabbed one of its spindly legs. She yanked down and twisted, throwing it off balance. The beast careened backward into the mist. She had caught it off guard. Behind her, she heard it tumble onto the ground.
Star did not look back to see what became of the beast. It did not attack again, but she could not subdue her racing heart. It beat against her chest like a wild animal held against its will in the cage of her ribs. Her stomach pitched, and she was thankful she hadn’t eaten anything after Hilda’s beefy breakfast.
It had been Star’s first physical contact with the
flying beasts. The Elyndra had always been a ghost of a threat, a legend spun by the fireside to scare wild children into behaving. Mothers would say, “Eat your dinner, or I’ll let the Elyndra carry you away to the bad children’s land.” Sometimes Star even wondered if they were out there at all or if it was a myth created by past queens in order to control their subjects.
Now she knew the Elyndra were real, and Zetta’s warnings rang with the bell of truth resonating in her head.
The remaining stretch of the journey was a blur of scattered thoughts and anxious fretting. Relief came when the metal grid work surrounding Evenspark claimed the horizon in a shell of wires capping the hilltop. Blacksmiths had forged the giant screen a century ago, welding it together and attaching it to a large gate that looked like a mouth of crooked dragon’s teeth.
The screech of the grid coming apart was like angels singing to Star’s ear. She rode through the mouth of metalwork and, for the first time, looked back to make sure it closed behind her. Star watched mesmerized as the chrome strands intertwined once again, sealing the Elyndra out. The grid had never been more reassuring and relief eased her tired muscles, despite the fact that she carried Valen’s letter to Vespa.
Taking deep breaths to calm herself, she and Windracer trotted toward headquarters.
“Something wrong?”
Star jumped in her saddle. Immersed in her thoughts, she didn’t see Zetta approach. Did the woman look for her arrival day and night? “Zetta,” she said, breathless, “I was attacked.”
“Attacked!” Zetta’s voice rose into a high-pitched squeal. She scrambled the final few steps to meet Star.
“Yes.” Star dismounted. “An Elyndra came for me.” She showed Zetta the torn sleeve of her cloak.
“And the letters?”
Star took a quick intake of breath. The fact Zetta cared more for the letters than her health shocked her. Her tone was cold as evening’s chill. “All delivered by last night’s eventide.”
Messenger in the Mist Page 4
