Messenger in the Mist (8 page)

Skipping down the marble steps on sore feet, Valen rejoiced in his escape. He shed the baldric and scarf boasting Ravencliff’s stately red and black colors, throwing the garments at the foot of the grand staircase. He walked through open glass doors to a private, walled garden where a fountain streamed water in the moonlight.

At first, he thought he spied a fairy come to dance in the beams of translucent radiance, or a beautiful ghost of the night, lingering in a place where she once sat as a young woman. Then, as he walked closer in silent steps, he recognized the white rider from the day’s events. She wore a simple white gown. Tiptoeing around the base of the fountain, she seemed as if she’d broken free of the mob as well, an escapee of the roaring laughter above their heads in the ballroom.

Valen called out to her just as she turned to slip back inside. “Congratulations on winning the race today.”

The girl whirled around like she’d been caught and, seeing that it was a teasing young man and not a castle official, relaxed her tensed shoulders, her hair streaming down in white waves of glittering light. “Thank you.”

“That’s quite a horse you’ve got.”

She smiled as if he’d mentioned a dear friend and the muscles in her face eased. “Windracer comes from a line of the finest horses bred for their massive size and speed. Throughout generations, the horse farmers of Evenspark have managed to perfect an animal that can run miles without tiring and outlive the average lifespan of any ordinary horse.”

Valen took a step toward her. “But there’s more to it. It takes an exceptional rider as well.”

Her head tilted down and her white hair fell in front of her eyes. “I’ve worked hard for many years, training day and night.”

“I’m sure you have. You ride with such ease and grace.”

The girl rounded the fountain, meeting Valen halfway. “It has always been my dream to ride in the Interkingdom Carriers.”

“Now it looks as though you’ve done it. They will take you in right away.”

“I certainly hope so.” She raised a small hand and placed delicate strands of her hair behind her ear. Valen resisted the urge to stare. He admired her modesty. She was so humble for such an experienced rider and champion, and for such a beauty of a girl.

A question brimmed in his thoughts. “If it means so much to you, then why did you jeopardize the race?”

The girl did not flinch or turn away insulted. Instead, she held his gaze firmly and responded, “I did not want the healers to risk their lives retrieving her. There was not enough time before the oncoming riders. I had to make a decision.”

Valen considered her answer. He was highly impressed that she would put the welfare of another in front of her own dreams. Ravencliff’s elite did not encourage philanthropy. “Fate has rewarded you. It must be your destiny.”

The girl laughed lightly, like he’d told a joke she’d heard all too often. She stepped toward him, making his heart race. “You make your own destiny.”

“I only wish that were so.” Valen thought of all the heavy expectations of his impending position as the future king of Ravencliff. “For some of us, it is preplanned.” He couldn’t believe he’d told his innermost fears and personal challenges to this strange young specter of the night.

The girl studied him, as if she could peer through his crumbling facade and see the true shape of his inner being. Her head cocked to the side, her eyes glinting silver. “That’s what the rulers want you to think.”

With those earth-shattering words, she turned and disappeared into the burning light of the chandeliers.

Valen was blindsided. Coming from her, he almost believed it. Never had he thought he held his own future in his hands. The king dictated his destiny each day of his life, strategically planning his every task from the moment he could talk for optimum results. Royal princes had no say in the matter. How could the rider assume he was so free?

Looking down at his attire, Valen realized he’d shed all of the garments of his station, leaving only his red-and-black tunic and vest. The woman had no idea she spoke to a future king and, as he studied the empty place where she had stood, he realized he had no way of asking her if she meant what she said, even for a prince.

Valen searched the party for the remainder of the night, scanning waves of faces and darting in between mingling clusters of noblewomen all vying for one another’s attention. The music swelled in his ears, diluting his concentration and mocking his search with absurdly pleasant jigs. People swirled around him, a mass of frivolous gowns and velvet capes, obscuring his vision of the entire ballroom. The white rider had vanished as magically as she’d appeared. Before Valen was ready, the golden clock chimed twelve times, signaling the end of the Midnight Ball.

Valen left with great disappointment. He had tasted an elusive sparkle of freedom, the idea of choice, only to have it evaporate on the tip of his tongue. He convinced himself their conversation was not a dream or a hallucination caused by the wine. In so many ways, it would have been easier to let it go.

He hoped he would see her again during his next visit. But as the days passed, all expectations of returning to Evenspark were defeated. The Elyndra grew more and more aggressive, and as the next year came around, it brought tragedy with it. The king proclaimed the land far too dangerous for his son, the heir to the throne, to ride out.

Valen pined for days. He feared he would never see her again and buried the memory of that sunny day in a place where he thought it could no longer haunt him, a place so deep it rooted in the core of his heart.

Heavenly Gift

Star watched as the mist crept in through a crack in the windowsill. Like a steady stream of smoke, it curled around the base of the glass, collecting in a pool of fog on the wooden floor. She ran her finger through the transparent ribbon, momentarily disrupting the flow. She knew if she tried to plug the crack with her finger, the mist would seep around her skin, streaming like water. In her childhood, she’d spent many afternoons trying to clog the mist’s passage to no avail.

Her father constantly smoothed plaster on the walls and in the crevices in the floorboards where stray mist could seep in. He used glue, old towels and melted wax from his candle shop. These paltry devices would keep the mist at bay momentarily, but they did not last forever. Just when he fixed one hole, another would form, whether from the elements, the shifting of the wood, or wear throughout the years. Her father fought a battle that could never be entirely won.

Perched on the downside of the steep hill surrounding Evenspark, her parents’ home sat at the edge of the grid just before the outskirts. On a still night, while she lay in bed, she could hear the prattle of the mist blowers a mile away. One day, when she bought their new home, she’d also purchase a cottage nearby so she could keep watch over them as they grew older.

“Star, honey, why don’t you find a nice book to read? Or there’s this tablecloth that needs sewing—”

“No thanks, Mum,” Star replied listlessly, more involved in moving the wisps with her fingertips.

“Come now, you can’t just sit there forever.”

Star looked up as her mother appeared in the doorway. She was older now, her blond hair turning white like Star’s. The fingers Star remembered braiding her long locks were now wrinkled and dry with cracked skin. But she was the same in spirit. Putting her wizened hands on her hips, her mother came right to the core of the matter. “It’s been two days.”

“And no one has come for me.” Star pulled a fuzzy piece of lint off their old couch and threw it on the rug. “My job is lost.”

“There’s no sense in wallowing in the matter.” Star’s mother spread her hands in the air. “It’s their loss. We all know you are the best rider in Evenspark.”

“
Was
the best rider.”

Her mother frowned in sympathy, her voice growing plaintive. “Even the best can’t win against shifting alliances and politics. You’ve got to find something else to fill your time. Go to the market and see if they need to make any deliveries in town. Maybe Colins needs some bushels of hay.”

“We need more money. The pay Colins will give me for my deliveries won’t be worth the trip.”

“It’s not for money, it’s for your own good. You’re still so young, Star. Your life is full of endless possibilities. You can’t whittle your time away with silly regrets.”

“The truth is I didn’t just lose my job. I lost my dream of buying you a better house. A safer house.”

“My dear.” Her mother sat beside her on the pillowed couch. “This is our home. It’s always been our home.”

Star took her mother’s hand and squeezed it. “But the mist—”

“The mist is a nuisance, yes, but we can deal with that. As for the Elyndra, the grid has always held.”

“But what if they find a way through?”

“It seems to me you are much more likely to be attacked than any one of us.” Star’s mother smoothed her hair. “You are the one in danger, Star. You don’t think we worry about you?”

Star bit her lip and remained quiet. She hadn’t mentioned her recent brush with the Elyndra. It would heighten their concerns. Star knew her mother was right and had no adequate answer to give.

“Anyway, even if you bought us some lavish mansion, we wouldn’t leave our home. Besides, what would we do with all of those rich noblemen and noblewomen? Could we actually be happy with neighbors like that?”

Star took in the familiar sight of her mother’s old apron, her wayward white hair and her kind eyes. She realized they wouldn’t be happy in a lofty house in the inner district. Those were her dreams and not their own.

“Come now, you have enough money saved up for awhile, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do.” Star’s gaze wandered to her riding cloak. “In fact, I have quite a payment right here.” Digging in her pocket, Star found the golden trinket box and brought it out for her mother to see. “It’s not enough to buy a house, but it could ensure financial security for some time.”

She clicked open the latch. The ruby pendant caught the light of the burning candles and glinted, spreading crimson shafts around the kitchen.

“My goodness.” Her mother’s eyes went wide. “That’s quite a gift.”

“And quite a giver…” Star didn’t have to say any more.

“Why sell such a wonderful present?”

“That’s just it. I don’t know what it is. It could be just a reward, a payment, something he found on his way out, or it could mean much more.”

Her mother held the ruby in her hands, dangling it in front of her eyes to study its shape, as if by looking at it she could read into Valen’s own heart. “People give gifts for so many reasons. Only time will tell.” She put the pendant back in the box then put her hands over Star’s hands, closing the lid. “Let’s wait and see. In the meantime, keep it safe.”

“It’s probably nothing. Why would someone giving away rubies ever be interested in a poor girl like me?”

“Dear Star, you were always so beautiful and unique. When you were born, we stared in awe at your silver eyes and white hair. I thought you were a gift from the heavens above. That’s why I named you Star.”

“I’m not special. I just worked hard, and now all my diligence has come to naught.”

“I don’t think it has.” Her mother’s eyes were kind, her grip strong as she held her daughter’s small hands. “I still think you’ll do great and wonderful things.”

Star shrugged, looking away. She loved her mother too much to deny her.

Her mother’s face brightened like the sun peeking through the clouds at midday. “But right now, we need to cook dinner. Your father will be home soon. Come and join me when you escape the brooding prison you’ve made of our old couch.”

Her mother patted her knee and went into the kitchen. Left alone, Star opened the box once again and took out the ruby, feeling the weight in the palm of her hand. She impulsively draped the pendant around her neck, fastening the clasp. It felt heavy on her chest, like it didn’t fit her, both physically and in station, but Star ignored the incongruity. She hid it underneath her blouse, the ruby falling in between her breasts, near her heart. After a moment of thought, she joined her mother, helping peel the onions for the stew.

And a wonderful dinner it was. Vegetable dumplings, onion stew and a twisted loaf of wheat bread her father bought in town at the bakery. Somehow the conversation she’d had with her mother lifted a weight off of her shoulders, and she could sit back and enjoy the time with both her parents. They reminisced about taking Star to her first riding lesson, the day their family horse birthed Windracer and Star’s first tournament ten years ago.

“Remember, they invited you to the castle,” her father said, still proud a decade later.

“That’s right,” her mother chimed in. “It was the Midnight Ball, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, I remember.” Star crinkled her nose. “I didn’t like it at all. In fact, I slipped away before the clock struck twelve.”

A distant thought tugged at Star’s memory, but she couldn’t quite form any tangible conclusion. Something about that night remained a mystery to her.

Her thoughts were interrupted by an insistent knock at the door.

“Who could that be?” her mother asked no one in particular. “I didn’t invite anyone.”

“I’ll go and see.” Her father wiped his hands on his napkin and tossed it on the table. Star sat with her mother, waiting as her father answered the door.

“Maybe it’s the young man who gave you the necklace…”

Star shook her head. “No, Mum, he lives in Ravencliff.”

“Ravencliff!” Her mother’s voice rose and Star had to shush her. “You didn’t mention he lived so far away.”

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

Thankfully, her father reappeared in the hallway, silencing the conversation. He turned to Star. “It’s for you.”

For a moment, Star allowed her heart to hope somehow Valen had ridden through the countryside to visit her, although the idea was preposterous. As she walked to the front room, she recognized Zetta immediately in the failing light.

Zetta stood hunched in an old shawl. Her hair stuck out like an unwound cotton ball and her eyes were sunken in her face, dark and shifty pupils framed by purplish circles. She always looked a bit frazzled, but tonight she was utterly frantic. Every wrinkle in her face seemed crumpled up, making her look ten years older than her middle age.