Messenger in the Mist. Aubrie Dionne

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      Star pulled back on the reins, halting Windracer in mid-step. She turned in her saddle to face the speaker of the question. Although his tone was haughty, he was a young lad, barely graduated from the academy. Uneven stubble grew in patches on his face. “The moors.”

      Silence followed as if her words turned them to stone. No one laughed any longer. Star nudged Windracer back into motion and continued along the way, passing them like she strode among statues. There were no further questions. As she left the brigade, she heard one of them mumble, “Poor Arwen, rest in peace.” Star no longer wondered about the truth of the stable hand’s story.

      Star approached the marble hall and dismounted, leaving Windracer to rest in the shade of a Blackwood. The castle perched on the bald spot of a foothill, several feet from ground level. Here the mist was but a shady afterthought, and the sun warmed the earth and gilded the royal gardens. Star had entered the inner sanctuary, a palace reserved for Ravencliff’s elite.

      She walked through rows of columns. The royal emblem of Ravencliff decorated the sandstone: a single bird flying free from a high perch on a sharp crag. Secretly, Star scoffed at the symbol. The rulers had improperly attributed such an image of freedom to a fortress where the inhabitants remained locked away. Perhaps it was a distant hope, a future they strived for to no avail.

      The doors to the marble hall were propped open, allowing Star to enter the main antechamber. Lined with dramatic tapestries, velvet curtains and cushioned chairs, the hall was a regal testament to Ravencliff’s exquisite grandeur. Dignitaries formed circles of gregarious speech, council ambassadors strolled with servants in tow and members of the extended royal family lounged, creating a sea of voices where laughter and whispers rode the waves in tides.

      Star picked her way through the mingling crowd. She had the privilege of stepping into the inner sanctuary many times before to deliver correspondence and knew exactly whom to speak to regarding the matter of the bunnyfly. A desk raised on a pedestal stood at the far end of the great hall, where the chief of acquisitions sat, smug as a judge, in a leather studded chair.

      Star frowned impatiently when she saw the line. The trail of people stretched halfway across the grand room, weaving in between the columns like a snake. She had not come at the best time. Scratching the bunnyfly’s head, Star took her place at the end of the line behind a scrawny man carrying a long box in the shape of a fiddle.

      The man looked back at her with a cursory glance under unruly curls of chestnut locks. When he recognized her garb, he turned full around. “So, a messenger, heh?”

      Star sighed. This question also followed her in both kingdoms and she was tired of answering. “That’s right.”

      “Delivering something important to the king?”

      Although his tone was playful, Star was not amused. “You could say that, yes.” In her arms, she hid the bunnyfly in a blanket borrowed from the inn. She didn’t need to draw more attention to herself.

      “I sent a letter out a fortnight hence, you see, and I still haven’t gotten a reply.”

      Star stifled the urge to roll her eyes. It was going to turn into one of those conversations. “Sir, messengers don’t keep track of who sends what to whom. We merely deliver the letters that fall into our safekeeping. I can assure you letters are seldom lost or misplaced. If you haven’t heard back, then the recipient hasn’t written a reply.”

      Again she had succeeded in dissatisfying another customer. The man glowered, shifting the weight of his fiddle box to the other shoulder. “I’m just a musician searching for a decent job, you know. I’ve applied to the minstrels at Evenspark several times and haven’t heard back.”

      Star knew getting into the grid was difficult, especially if one was born in the outskirts. Both cities had population surges and little housing available. He had a better chance of finding a pot of gold under a gutter.

      “Perhaps you can find a job here. That’s why you’re in line, right?”

      “Certainly. The prices of living in the inner district of either kingdom are so high nowadays, and more and more go missing from the outskirts. They just don’t have the proper defenses.”

      These issues stood at the forefront of Star’s thoughts. Every penny she saved from her messenger’s stipend brought her closer to buying her parents a new home in Evenspark’s inner district. It would take several more years, but at least she would sleep soundly at night knowing they were finally safe.

      The line moved quicker than Star expected, and the man’s turn came before she could respond further.

      “Godspeed, my friend,” Star said. “I pray you do get a reply from Evenspark.”

      “With one three-year-old and a baby on the way, let’s hope so.”

      * * * *

      It didn’t take long for Star to convince the chief of acquisitions to allow entry into the inner sanctuary. Dressed in their formal clothes of office, no one wanted to carry a sloppy bunnyfly, glitter and fur shedding on everything it touched. Soon, a snobby-nosed attendant, who obviously had better things to do, escorted her down a narrow hallway.

      “Right this way.” The attendant sprinted ahead, leading Star through a series of rooms and great mahogany doorways. Her tired feet left cushioned imprints in a thick, floral rug lining the walkway in elegant luxury. They exited the castle and entered the inner gardens, a labyrinth of hedges surrounding an atrium at the center. Made entirely of glass, the room was a humid greenhouse, its roof covering brightly feathered birds and large palmed ferns in a verdant array. A fountain in the center gurgled lazily, the waters rippling with streams of golden fish.

      “This is her favorite place to study.” He gestured with his hand, encouraging Star to enter. She stepped by him as he stood by the door, impatiently waiting for her to present the animal. With one uneasy look at the attendant, Star entered the atrium. Rounding the fountain, she could hear voices above the splashing water.

      “And what is the capitol of Ravencliff?” A woman questioned with an authoritative air.

      A young girl responded, “This castle, of course!”

      “And who rules this castle?”

      A shrill squeal erupted. “Valen does!”

      “No, my dear,” the woman corrected. “The King of Ravencliff, your papa.” She whispered something under her breath, and Star thought she heard, “Although sometimes I think you’re right.”

      Star spotted the pair at the opposite end of the room, sitting on twisted wicker chairs on a patio, books spread out everywhere. The girl wore a pink camisole with puffy sleeves, her hair braided in intertwined ribbons. An older woman, likely the tutor, with thinning gray hair spun up in a bun, sat opposite the girl. She wore a dress rigidly buttoned all the way up to a collar, which brushed the bottom of her pointy chin.

      “Ravencliff is the ultimate power in the kingdom, controlling the entire realm of humanity. Now write the word Ravencliff in your letters.”

      Princess Bellanina’s wandering gaze spotted Star. In an instant, her violet eyes gleamed. “Flopsy! Oh, my dear Flopsy!” The princess rushed over to Star in a flurry of satin and lace. Star handed her the bunnyfly and the girl cradled it like a СКАЧАТЬ