A shout rang out from the bordering parapet.
“What is it?” the archer closest to Star whispered to his comrade.
“Don’t know.” The second archer peered down the battlements. “I think they see one.”
“Not again.” The other archer seemed skeptical. “There’s no use shootin’ at ghosts.”
Then another shout came from the same direction, this one stronger and more incredulous. Star could hear the whiz of arrows flying through the sky. The archers engaged fire.
The men stationed in front of her scurried down the battlements to the source of the commotion. It was just the distraction that Star needed in order to get through to the wall. She suspected they wouldn’t leave their posts for long. She didn’t have much time. If they saw her, they’d pull her right back up. No one was allowed outside the city. The guards did not want to provoke the Elyndra.
Star ran over to the edge of the wall, peering down between the columns of rock. All she could see was endless mist, but it wasn’t the thickness of the haze that surprised her, it was the height. The stable boy’s story was true—the mist was rising. It flowed only five feet from the top of the wall, nearly thirty feet taller than just three years ago when Star was given a tour of Ravencliff on her first visit. If it continued at that pace, the miasma would overcome the walls in less than a year.
She tied the rope to the foot of a stone gargoyle decorating the guard tower. After tugging on the knot, she looked around her nervously. The archers yelled from down the battlements, still engrossed in their hunt. With a deep breath, Star climbed onto the rim and leaped.
It was a dizzying feeling to have nothing but mist below her. Star hung in suspension with fog on all sides. Bracing her feet against the sleek rock of the fortress wall, she slowly lowered herself, pace by pace.
She could still hear the commotion on the far side of the wall. The archers had fired multiple rounds, but she’d heard no cry of triumph. Star wondered where the Elyndra had gone. She looked over her shoulder, but the mist obscured any sense of movement beyond the walls.
Suddenly she felt a draft of air lift stray strands of her hair. Their quarry hadn’t flown away. Star had lured it to the other side.
Goosebumps formed on her arms and shoulders as the all-too-familiar swishing sound came from above. With one hand grasping the rope, Star drew her long sword and prayed.
The Elyndra dove, coming at her with the force of gravity on its side. Star kicked away from the wall just in time to avoid a head-on collision. But she knew it would be back.
Losing her sense of direction, Star flew through the air, suspended precariously on her rope. She clung desperately with all of her strength, and came back around, hitting the wall hard. Her hand smashed up against the rock, causing her to drop her long sword into the misted depths below her feet.
Panic ran through her veins like a fast-acting poison, distorting reason and logic. Her thoughts scattered in a million directions, none of them coming to any sort of valid action. Looking back up to the battlements, Star hoped the archers had returned to their stations. Maybe they could drive it away with their arrows. But one look revealed no one was there and she had climbed down too far to call to them.
This time the Elyndra came from the side. Star heard the swoosh of its wings first and saw two wire-like worms cut through the mist. The spindly antennae were attached to a small head and two large, iridescent black spheres that could only be its alien eyes. Then the legs hovered over her and she screamed. Just as it reached for her, Star loosened her grip on the rope, falling several feet. The Elyndra groped thin air.
The rope burned the palms of Star’s hands, but she knew she had to hold on. She couldn’t tell how steep the drop was to the ground below. She could hear the wings as they circled round. It was coming back.
Shaking, Star untied the torch stick as her other hand clung to the rope. Next, she dug in her pockets for a match. “Come on, come on.” Her fingertips fumbled around in the folds of her front coat pocket. Luckily, they touched the tip of the match. Star almost dropped it as she pulled it out. Swearing, she managed to strike it against the rock, hoping with all of her might it would spark flame.
It did. The torch stick blazed into a fiery light just as the Elyndra came at her again.
This time she thrust the newborn flame at its wings. The Elyndra balked, legs flailing. Star reached out and swung, setting its left side on fire. The flames caught and spread on the wings like on a dry sheet of parchment. The beast teetered in the air before plummeting to the ground below, leaving a swirling stream of gray and black smoke.
Star realized she’d been tensing every muscle in her body. After a long moment of shock, she gradually relaxed, trying to convince herself she was all right. Soon curiosity outweighed fear and she wondered if she truly slew the beast. Making sure she had a decent grip on her torch, Star lowered herself with sore hands the remainder of the way until her feet hit the ground. She was relieved to see her longsword resting on the ground. Star snatched the weapon up and went to investigate.
The stench of burnt wing tissue was almost unbearable. Star covered her nose with her arm as she approached the flames licking their way through the mist. Before her lay the greatest scientific find of her century—the only incapacitated Elyndra ever found. The beast flailed, stumbling toward Star. Some of its legs were broken from the fall, hanging at crooked angles. A glimmering powder coated its right wing, sparkling in a lustrous, rainbow-like play of color. A single black disk in the center of the wing acted as a counterfeit eye.
Because of Star, the left wing was a smoldering stump. Star tried to get closer, but the creature’s antennas reached out toward her, twitching in jagged motions.
Star stared into the cold vastness of its multifaceted eyes. She tried to see beyond the predator to the soul that lay dying beneath, but all she saw in those great orbs was ignorance and death.
She circled the beast, staying free of the probing antennae until she could reach around to its torso. In a swift motion, she brought the sword down to end its suffering. The sword sliced easily through its soft inner carapace, stabbing it through its back.
“Fire.” Star kicked the mass of tangled legs. “You can fight them with fire.” The Elyndra weren’t mysterious ghosts or otherworldly demigods. They were living, breathing creatures that could die like anything else.
The body was far too big for her to drag. Gazing up at the lookout tower, Star thought she could pinpoint the location from the walls above. Ravencliff would get a specimen. That is, if she managed to get back in at all.
As the exhilaration from the triumph of battle welled inside her, she had to remind herself the beast was but one in perhaps a hundred, even a thousand. Although it felt like she’d conquered the world, it was a small victory at most. She still had to be cautious.
Holding the torch above her head, Star found her way back to the edge of the wall. Before she’d jumped, she had calculated the exact spot where the bunnyfly had been found in relation to the walls of Ravencliff. The southern side was her best bet at finding the breach.
Star walked along the wall, her gaze scanning the black rock for cracks in the facade, crumbling debris or any sign of an opening. To her chagrin, the wall was solid without as much as a chink in the ebony facade.
Once several feet down the incline toward the mountain, Star suspected the bunnyfly had miraculously flown over the fortress barricade. The terrain grew harder to cross and a scraggly patch of briars and shrubs forced her away from the wall. She almost continued onward but changed her mind, deciding a methodical and meticulous approach would yield better results.
Using her sword, Star cut down the overgrowth. Beneath the tangled mass was a fissure four feet tall and five feet wide. Star ran her fingers over the grooved edges on the wall of the passageway. This was not done by wind, rain or imperfections in the rock itself. These gashes were made by a human tool. Star’s first thought was a pic
k axe, but the rock was far too strong to crack by any metal implement she’d seen forged.
She paused, mulling over the serrations in the rock. Whoever made this passage had devices far stronger than she could imagine. Advanced tools meant human intelligence and power. Star had the sinking feeling she was in far over her head.
Cautiously, she ducked inside. The passageway slanted at a steep incline, carved from the mountain. Star climbed with her torch in hand. There was no way she would stumble through the darkness with no light. Her small stature made it easy to traverse winding turns in the passageway. It took only a few minutes to slip through to the end, where moonlight shone between cracks in the ceiling.
Star blew out her torch. She realized she stood under slates of limestone. Reaching her hands above her head, Star moved one of the slates and hefted herself out of the secret passageway, surfacing underneath large ferns.
Pushing the greenery away, she thought she emerged in a jungle from one of the stories her mother read to her at night as a child. Then, as she emerged from the ferns, she recognized her surroundings as none other than the private atrium where she’d delivered the bunnyfly. It must have slipped through a crack in the granite slabs as the princess studied, plunging down the tunnel and onto the moors.
There was a glass door at the far end of the atrium, opposite the side where she had entered with the guard. She knew one way led toward the front of the castle, meaning the opposite direction would take her to the inner chambers, where the royal family would be sound asleep.
Leaving her torch in the tunnel, Star took off toward the inner castle. The glass door was partially opened, and a thin curtain spilled out into the night, floating listlessly in the gentle breeze. Star poked her head in.
A rocking horse with bridled reins gilded in gold guarded the room. Dolls littered the floor, their hair fanning out to carpet the marble in waves of gold and amber. There a small, canopied bed occupied the far wall of the room, draped in pink veils. At the foot of the bed rested a round basket.
Star pushed the glass door open further, quietly taking a step into the room. She sensed movement at the corner of her eye. The basket shook and a familiar face peeked out. To Star’s surprise, the bunnyfly stared at her, its wide eyes large as two moons. It cooed softly, a pleasant sound, like it recognized her.
“Shh.” Star waved back the bunnyfly. She could see Princess Bellanina wrapped in blankets like a rosebud, sleeping soundly in her bed.
The bunnyfly moved restlessly in the basket, stirring up sparkles as it jumped, front paws dangling on the edge. The basket wobbled, threatening to fall over.
“No,” Star whispered. “You stay still.” Cursing her situation, she tiptoed closer to the foot of the princess’s bed, where she kneeled and comforted the bunnyfly, running her hands over the smooth velvet fur on its back. The animal nestled back down into the basket with a sleepy chirp.
Swiftly, Star glided around the bed toward the door. The princess shifted, but did not wake. Star held her breath as she opened the door to the hallway, praying the metal hinges wouldn’t creak. It opened silently, allowing her to slip through.
She closed the door behind her and collapsed against it, finally letting her breath loose. Messengers were not trained for stealth, nor were they trained to scale walls or find secret tunnels. She was way beyond her expertise.
Thankfully, the late hour ensured no one walked the hallways. Star searched door to door, trying to decipher the room belonging to Valen. The princess had her name engraved on the door, but each room that came after hers did not have any identification at all.
Further down the hallway she found a door painted with Valen’s name in silver letters. Star stared in indecision. Her plan seemed like an excellent idea until now. She’d scaled the fortress walls, fought a great flying beast, navigated a secret spy tunnel and now she couldn’t knock on a door. What was wrong with her? Had she come all this way to hide like a schoolgirl?
She wondered if he slept in there at all. What if someone else occupied his room that night? What if his room had changed? If she knocked, then the substitute would answer, call out the guards and she’d be thrown in the dungeon or on the streets, in the same place she was before all of this.
Star tried the knob and it turned with no protest. Her pulse quickened as she opened the door.
Chapter 12
Trophy Beast
A single triangular window leaked moonlight through fluttering curtains onto a marble floor cut in diamond patterns. Star tiptoed toward the silhouette of a velvet-draped canopied bed, grateful for the stone. The polished floor didn’t creak under her steps like the old wooden boards in her parents’ house.
When she reached the bed, Star pulled the curtains back enough to peek in. To her surprise, the sheets were empty. Her heart dropped to her feet. He wasn’t there. But the sheets were rumpled like someone had recently slept in them. Star touched the pillowcase and felt warmth.
A person, tall and broad enough to be a man, knocked her to the floor. Star struggled to gain an advantage, wrestling with her attacker. She’d been caught off guard and the fall alone knocked the wind out of her lungs. She brought her foot up to kick him but he was too quick. He caught her booted leg and pushed it toward the floor. Soon he had her pinned, resting his body on top of hers. Star resisted, whipping her hair out of her face and into his. When she looked up, she instantly stilled. “Prince Valen…”
Immediately he loosened his grip. “Miss Nightengale.” He seemed pleasantly surprised and more than a little amused. “What are you doing sneaking into my bedroom in the middle of the night?”
Once again, Star was at a loss for words. The proximity of his body to hers distracted her, and the situation was now so embarrassing. She blushed. “I…I have a letter you must see.”
The prince let her wrists go. “Right now?”
Star wondered what else he had in mind besides reading letters, but reined in her overactive imagination immediately. Although she lay underneath him, she tried to be formal. “Yes, it cannot wait.”
Valen shifted his weight, allowing her to sit up. Star reached into her cloak and brought out the letter. “Do you know of a Fallon Leer?”
The prince’s face fell into grave lines as his features grew too complicated for Star to interpret. His eyes were dark in the shadows. “I do, yes.”
“Here.” She handed him the letter with the broken seal.
“But the seal is broken, you must have—”
“My superior had me delivering secret letters to this man. They were not processed, and so I suspected foul play. It was a decision I had to make.”
“My letter to Vespa went unprocessed. Did you read that as well?”
Star was insulted by his assertion. “No, I certainly did not.”
The prince seemed disappointed and his expression confused her even more.
“But I did see her reaction, and what a reaction it was.” She wanted to ask why he called off the engagement, but it wasn’t her place, so she said nothing more.
“That, I did expect.” He found a candle and set it aflame, bringing flickering light into the room. Holding the letter close to the candlelight, he read silently as Star watched and waited.
“This is serious news indeed,” Valen replied after a long moment of reflection. He looked at her with gratitude. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”
Star could tell the letter weighed heavily on his emotions. She wanted to reach out and comfort him, but could not find an appropriate gesture. “It was nothing.”
Valen pocketed the letter. “Once again, you’ve gone above and beyond the call of duty.”
“That’s not all.”
His eyebrows quirked. “Have you saved our kingdom while you were at it?”
Brightening his spirits made Star immensely pleased. “Not quite. But I do have something that just might help.”
* * * *
As Star brough
t Valen to the parapet, she told him of her struggle with the Elyndra, the breach in the fortress and the spy tunnel. Valen listened, pursing his lips with a wrinkled brow. When he did speak again, it was not what Star expected.
“You should be more careful. Slaying beasts, scaling walls and sneaking into the castle just to deliver a letter to me?”
“It was an important letter. You needed to know.”
“But what if something happened to you?”
He sounded like her mother. A rising strain of frustration boiled in her veins. “Now that you have the information, you can capture the traitor and put an end to this.”
Indeed, Valen had already sent his most trusted soldiers to retrieve the assassin and guard the hole in the garden where Star had resurfaced. Valen made certain to relay the orders before they left for the tower’s edge. Relief already washed over her like a warm bath. Now she knew he would be safe.
Star crossed her arms, wondering why she had to defend her actions to the prince she’d just saved. “I couldn’t chance anyone killing you or the assassin escaping. There wasn’t enough time and I had to make a decision.”
Valen grew quiet, and Star wondered what thoughts crossed his mind. Perhaps he thought her foolish, impulsive or reckless, or a combination of all three. Star couldn’t win this battle no matter what she said.
He put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her on the stone steps leading up to the battlements. “Promise me you’ll be more careful.”
“I can’t promise you anything.”
Her words seemed to sting his soul. Star watched as his face turned from concern to discomfort. She felt guilty for being so harsh but had no response at her disposal. They walked the remainder of the way in silence.
Star found her rope tied exactly where she’d left it hours before, marking where the beast lay. Fortunately, the archer had failed to notice the rope when he returned to his post. She touched the knot and turned to Valen. “Scaling the wall is the fastest way to retrieve the beast.”
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