With a whiff of irony and a pang of indulgent guilt, Star realized that watching the spoiled princess’s face turn sour made it all worth it.
Chapter 8
Destiny’s Child
The night Valen wrote Vespa’s letter was the night he remembered where he had seen Star before and why she had kept a piece of his heart all along.
Like many fond memories, it all began with a bright, sunny afternoon. The sky held endless blue and the sun blazed brilliantly, sizzling the morning mist. It was ten years ago, when Valen verged on becoming a dashing young man. Those days would always be held in his heart as the golden times of glory before the Elyndra dominated the countryside and before the tragic accident claimed his mother’s life.
Valen had visited Evenspark with his parents, witnessing the Great Equestrian Tournament in which Evenspark’s riders raced for trophies and acclaim. Perched in the stadium’s royal viewing box as honored guests of the queen, Valen sat in front of his two parents with Princess Vespa on his right side. He looked everywhere for the mutilated face of the infamous Queen of Evenspark, but she hid behind velvet curtains in another royal viewing box. Disappointed, he settled for the race ahead and Vespa’s whining.
“It is so tiresome waiting for the entrants to be assembled.” Vespa pulled a strand of her auburn hair behind her ear.
“They have to check to see if their horses are ready,” Valen explained in an attempt to instigate polite conversation. “If there’s a pebble in a horse’s hoof, it could mean losing the race by a mere few seconds.”
“Hmm.” Vespa didn’t seem interested in the activities below. Instead, she twirled a sapphire bracelet around her slender wrist. He’d tried to win her attention several times that day only to be scorned by her haughty pride. Just sitting next to her made his blood simmer. They were supposed to be getting to know each other and she wasn’t helping a smidgen.
Frustrated, Valen turned his eyes to the arena and spied the light-haired rider. She looked like she’d recently turned seventeen, the legal age for competing. He hadn’t ever seen her before, and although her hair was white as winter’s grasp, she was so small and so young. Her horse was a glorious, majestic beast, massive as a king’s carriage and dark as a raven’s wings with a thick mane of braided ebony and hoofs of polished silver. Together they were converse entities, like midnight and the moon, the horse absorbing light and the girl reflecting it as if a thousand glimmering particles dusted her hair and skin.
Valen watched in fascination as the race began. The small rider sprinted ahead of the crowd of participants. Her horse pounded the earth with an even gait, propelling them ahead with effortlessness and grace. As she rode, her diaphanous hair streamed behind her in a cascade of pure luminescence.
Vespa’s whine interrupted his thoughts. “I have twenty horses just as beautiful as any of those.”
“Yes, but do you know how to ride any of them?” Valen surprised himself with the venom in his voice. Vespa frayed his nerves.
“Prince Valen!” his mother whispered from behind him in his ear. “Behave yourself. We are honored guests.”
Reprimanded, Valen grew silent, watching the white rider as she cleared the curve of the ring, stirring up dust behind her horse’s hooves. She’d reached the final stretch. A wave of admiration for her overtook him and he had an overwhelming surge of hope that she would win.
Suddenly, as she closed the distance to the finish line, another rider, still on her second lap, turned the corner too quickly, tumbling to the ground with her horse in a tangle of limbs. The horse righted and trotted away, leaving the woman to be stampeded by the incoming riders. Valen yelled, along with the crowd, but the woman lay unconscious, oblivious to their warnings.
To everyone’s surprise, the white rider turned around. In a swift change of direction, she rode to the fallen woman, jumped off of her horse and pulled her to the edge of the coliseum where healers stood ready on the sidelines.
Although greatly relieved for the woman who’d fallen, Valen had a sudden pang of disappointment for the white rider’s fate. He thought for certain she’d forfeited the race. She would be a hero, but she’d forsaken her title and any chance for entry to the Interkingdom Carriers. Valen clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white. He watched as the other riders rounded the bend.
In a heartbeat, the white rider jumped back on her horse. As the other riders passed, she charged forward, riding through a cloud of dust in their wake. It was impossible, Valen reasoned, that a rider starting from a standstill could overtake a mass of horses in mid-flight, but he found himself rooting for her anyway.
As if his wishes traveled through the air, the rider gained a final burst of momentum, sprinting ahead of the pack to complete the race in a glorious show of inspiration. The crowd roared as she crossed the finish line. It was a magical moment and Valen had witnessed the glory of it firsthand.
Caught up in the rider’s triumph, Valen rose. His father did not notice. He was deeply involved in drinking and eating, mulling over politics with some regent from Evenspark, yet his mother glanced at him with a questioning blink.
“I will go down and congratulate the winner.” He turned to leave, though he knew better. He could not entertain each whimsy that flew his way, but the rider blinded his better judgment.
His mother reached over his seat and took his arm. “Valen, you must remember your place. This is not our country, and the queen will do the honor.” She pulled him aside. “Besides, you are here to spend time with Vespa. You should not leave her side.”
As always, the political game of what was proper and what should be done pinned him down. He bowed to his mother then returned to his seat beside Vespa. When he searched the center of the stadium, he could not spot the rider. She had disappeared.
All throughout the day he thought of her as Vespa’s voice rang incessantly in his ears and throngs of people flooded the stadium below. A slew of events followed. Valen watched the jousting with mild interest and met the princess’s brigade of ladies-in-waiting as they dragged him through a tedious tour of the royal gardens. He thought the day would never end when the queen invited him to join the royal family at the Midnight Ball.
As he entered the ballroom, Valen’s eyes were filled with dazzling wonders. It was impossible, despite his reluctance, not to be impressed. Fiddlers and flutes riffed ballads and jigs, and servants balanced golden trays full of amber wine underneath jeweled chandeliers. Valen marveled at diamond-studded cups, rows of roasted pheasants, and hairpieces so high they seemed to brush the lofty ceiling. Evenspark had more opulence than Ravencliff and flaunted it.
Of course he danced with Vespa all evening, stifled by her chiffon and lace. When she left to adjust her beaded updo of curls, Valen ducked away and hid behind the flowered vases. Spying through the crowd, he saw his mother chatting with other noblewomen and his father involved in a card game at the wine table. For a few moments, he would not be missed.
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.
Chapter 9
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 s
moothed 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.”
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