Messenger in the Mist (4 page)

As Star rode the final steps to the main gate, she heard a resonant tenor voice call after her. “Star Nightengale, you cannot leave until I’ve rewarded the famous messenger who saved my sister’s beloved pet.”

She realized the guards around her stared. Each one straightened a bit taller and the commotion died to silence. Some dashed back to their posts as if she’d caught them loitering.

Star whirled around in her saddle to address the speaker. Valen sat atop a black stallion, his riding cloak fluttering in the gentle breeze. He wore a rough leather tunic that hugged the rounded, smooth muscles of his chest. His face was flushed with exertion as if he’d been involved in sword practice when news came of the bunnyfly’s astonishing savior.

She blinked to make sure he wasn’t a dream. When she opened her eyes and the prince remained, her heart fluttered and sped. Star wondered why the fate of a pet was important enough to warrant an audience with a prince. Fumbling with the reins, her thoughts stuttered as she searched for an appropriate response. Relief flowed over her when her lips found the correct words. “I seek no reward, Your Highness. I’m merely doing my duty.”

The prince gently urged his horse forward and rode up beside her. His voice fell from a full-fledged projection to a conversational tone. “I believe this is above and beyond your duty. You’ve made my sister happy again, which is not an easy task, and I express my deepest appreciation.”

His eyes met her own as if he were shifting through the layers of her job, her duty, to study the soul that lay beneath. Star met his gaze, asking him to find what he sought. It was a bizarre occurrence, having what she wanted handed to her on a platter. Some ironic turn of fate had gleaned amusement by honoring her request. Confronted by her imaginings turning into reality, Star had no idea what to do.

The prince looked away as if he had forgotten himself. He dug into the folds of his cloak and brought out a small, glided box. Extending his arm, he handed it to her. “Here, a token of my gratitude.”

Star took the box, her slender fingers brushing against his. Somehow, all of the exchanges she’d dreamed of were no longer at her disposal. Her head was as empty as the bunnyfly’s. “Thank you.” Star cursed her diminishing vocabulary.

She thought the exchange had run its course, but the prince made no move to leave. “Can I have a moment of your time?”

Star was already hours behind schedule. She suspected she might have to ride out a day later than usual. Not only did she have a bag full of undelivered letters, but she’d spent the entire morning returning a bunnyfly of all things. Zetta would certainly not approve.

But there was no other answer she could give. “Most definitely.” Star closed and secured her carrier’s pack.

Valen smiled, appeased. “Come, let us ride.”

Leaving the vicinity of the guards, Star followed the prince down a grassy slope and into the privacy of the gardens. Windracer picked her way through a bed of blooming hyacinths, their voluptuous petals emanating an intoxicating scent in the air. The moment was surreal, wrapping around her heart and squeezing it until it swelled.

Once they were out of earshot, Valen turned to Star and broke the silence. “The disappearance of the bunnyfly unsettles me. Perhaps, seeing you were the one to find my sister’s pet, you can shed light where there is none.”

Star leaned forward. The overhanging branches cast dappled patches of shade on his face, making his expression difficult to interpret. “Anything I can do, Your Highness.”

“Please, call me Valen.”

“Prince Valen.” Star enjoyed saying his name.

“No, just Valen.”

Star laughed lightly. “I’m sorry, I cannot address you so informally. Prince Valen will have to do.”

The prince relented. “Rightly so. I heard you found the animal in the moors, outside the strong keep.”

“Yes.”

“And it was alone.”

“Yes.”

“Was there anything alongside it, any clue as to who put it there?”

“No, Your Highness. It huddled in the middle of the moors with no food, no shelter and no one to look after it.”

“What type of cruel person would steal such an innocent, inconsequential creature and toss it to certain death? You’d think if they had a tiff with the royal family, they would come directly to me or my father. But instead they insist on terrorizing the pet of a little girl.”

“Prince Valen, I don’t believe anyone stole your sister’s pet.”

The prince crinkled his brow. “Then how do you suppose it got there?”

Star chose her words carefully. “Forgive me, sir, for my boldness, but have you considered the possibility your fortress has a breach?”

“A breach? What do you mean?”

“A hole in the wall. Wide enough, at least, for a bunnyfly. Maybe bigger.”

Valen looked like he’d seen an Elyndra fly right out of the sky. The color drained from his face. “Impossible. This fortress is as sturdy as the mountain itself. Nothing can enter or leave without the king’s permission.”

“I understand your faith and your pride, but what if I am right? The castle may be in danger. The tunnel must stem from the inner rooms itself, leading into hostile territory.” Star felt guilty delivering such dire tidings. It seemed to be her lot in life. “Look, I may be wrong. In fact, let us hope I am. But what if I’m not?”

“Yes, yes.” The prince massaged his chin with his fingers.

“I would check on it.”

He looked back at her with a glint in his dark eyes. “I don’t suppose you will be staying long? I need a rider swift enough to scout the outside perimeter.”

Star weighed the amount of money an assignment at Ravencliff would provide against her message carrying. Although it would probably be worth three or four runs, it was only one assignment, and her carrier job was insured indeterminably. It would put years of steady work in jeopardy. Despite the fact that her heart desired it, her brain reasoned not. “No, I must get back to Evenspark. My job depends on it.”

“Of course.” Valen nodded as if he understood, although his eyes fell momentarily to the knotted reins in his strong hands.

Star wondered why he seemed so disappointed by her refusal. She searched for anything she could do to help him. Her word was the only assurance she could give. “This information is safe with me.”

The prince smiled oddly, as if fate teased him. “Somehow I know I can trust you. It’s almost as if…”

“As if what?” Star had to know.

Valen shook off his last words as if they were meaningless. “Where did you say you grew up?”

The change in conversation startled Star. “I didn’t.”

“That’s right. Forgive my digression.”

“That’s all right.” Star had nothing to hide, although her origins were meager. “I live in Evenspark in the outer districts, on the border of the outskirts.”

“How unfortunate.” Valen seemed surprised. “But look how much you’ve accomplished. You’re a rider of Evenspark, in fact, the head rider of the Interkingdom Carriers. I do read up on Evenspark’s current events, you know.”

Star blushed despite her poise. “My advancements took a lot of hard work.”

“And talent, I presume.”

She beamed from the inside out. It was one of those precious moments when someone recognized her for who she truly was and all she had achieved in her life above her job of delivering letters. And it wasn’t just anyone—it was Prince Valen.

Star shifted in her saddle, a bit restless. She didn’t know where this conversation was going, but she didn’t want it to end. Unfortunately, she could think of nothing further to say.

Valen beat her to the next words. “Thank you again.”

“You’re most welcome.”

“I’m sure you must be on your way, with all those letters to deliver.”

Star knew enough to let things be and urged Windracer to start moving. “Yes, I should.”

But the prince moved with her, steering his own stallion to match Windracer’s gait. “You will be coming back, I presume.”

“Most definitely.”

“Then I look forward to our next conversation.” The prince bowed in his saddle. “Until next time, Miss Star Nightengale.”

“I bid you farewell, Prince Valen.”

The prince rode off in a swift flurry of flowers and leaves, leaving Star to reflect on the odd conversation. She watched his scarlet cape flutter in the wake of his black stallion, turning over their words. Each sentiment was a luscious morsel, still lingering on the tip of her tongue.

Father’s Shadow

The rest of the day whizzed by in a blur of letters, a surge of pleased recipients and a slew of strategically planned destinations. Star made up time by scavenging cheap merchant food stands in between stops and hastily stuffing her mouth as she rode to the next delivery. Thank goodness she’d placed each letter in order the previous night, thus was able to accomplish more than one delivery at a single stop. She caught up with her deliveries when the moon reigned in the sky and the lanterns blazed like giant fireflies, one by one.

As she approached the Overflow Tavern, Star reached down to skim the bottom of her carrier’s bag. She had a nagging doubt she’d overlooked a letter in the rush. Her fingers brushed wads of crumpled receipts and the crust of the bread she’d nibbled for lunch. Digging deeper, Star felt a fold in the leather where her arm had clutched the bag too tight, crinkling the corner. The weight of the letters had wedged a small piece of paper underneath the crease.

When Star brought it out into the light, her stomach pitched. Not only was it another letter, but it was the exact one Zetta had so carefully entrusted to her safekeeping. She’d been catching up all day and the outskirts were not part of her ordinary circuit. In all the commotion, she’d overlooked the most important correspondence of her job.

If she waited until morning, Star would have to delay her ride home by another day. Zetta would fume when she returned, her cheeks red as the Devil and her mouth full of questions. Star would be forced to explain the matter of the bunnyfly and why the most important letter arrived late.

She bit her lower lip. She could already hear Zetta’s shriek of a voice:
You risked your life and the letters? For a bunnyfly?
And then, at an even higher pitch:
You delivered the bunnyfly before the letters? You delivered the most important letter last?

No, it would be better if she could finish the task before sunrise. Feeling foolish and irresponsible, Star pulled on the reins and Windracer swiftly turned around, fast as the dovetail of an arrow. Star smiled at her horse’s resilience to fatigue. At least this delivery would not take long.

The outskirts were an extension of the mountain behind the city, where a plate of granite hovered over a crevice between the earth and the mountain itself. It was known for sudden cave-ins and never saw the light of day. The dirt-paved streets harbored petty thieves and frantic citizens too poor to afford a residence in the inner districts. The growing population had pushed several housing communities beyond their limits, forcing many toward desperation, scrounging for food and shelter.

Star could only wonder how someone from such meager means could afford a personal message, and why he wouldn’t spend the money on a way to better his makeshift accommodations.

Perhaps this message did just that.

When Star reached the outskirts, the sky was a sheet of black, and the cave was even darker still. Here, no lanterns lit the throughways. People carried their own lights, as if each of them held a piece of the sun over their shoulder to remind themselves darkness was not everlasting.

Tonight the streets were empty of golden orbs. The inhabitants had retreated long ago to their shacks thrown together with stray wood and decorated by tattered curtains. The streets were shadowy and Star did not have a lantern. Reaching in her coat pocket, she brought out a crumpled box of matches. After striking one between her fingers, she crossed the threshold and the canopy of rock hovered over her like a storm cloud.

The dwelling she sought was part of a shantytown of pillaged wood houses huddled against the backdrop of the far side appropriately titled Rugged Ridge. The number of the address was 11678.

Star peered through the darkness. A scuttling sound came from deep within an alleyway. It could be as innocent as a tomcat or as malicious as a starving vagabond. Her match fizzled out. Not wanting to draw attention to herself, she urged Windracer on in the darkness. Her horse’s ability to see ahead did not concern Star. Windracer had excellent night vision and Star had trained her with frequent night walks in the misty, dimly lit streets of Evenspark.

To her dismay, the sound tracked Star through the grimy streets. Every few steps Windracer took, the scurrying followed like a delayed echo. Star looked back, but bundled trash clogged the alley.

Star cursed under her breath then dismounted Windracer, silent as a windless day. Bending down, she unsheathed a dagger lodged in the top of her boot. Every messenger had their own defenses.

A forced silence prevailed, broken only by the skittering of rats in the corner of the back alley. Holding the dagger in front of her, Star tiptoed around Windracer. As she entered the passageway, the darkness engulfed her in a stifling, black embrace.

The attack came swiftly, the thief bolting from the shadows. He knocked her to the ground, but she recovered, hoisting herself up on her elbows. Wrestling her attacker, she managed to squirm from underneath him and kicked the scraggly man in the stomach. In two seconds, she had him pinned down with her dagger hovering above his throat. “How dare you attack a messenger.”

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.