Messenger in the Mist. Aubrie Dionne
the woman look for her arrival day and night? “Zetta,” she said, breathless, “I was attacked.”
“Attacked!” Zetta’s voice rose into a high-pitched squeal. She scrambled the final few steps to meet Star.
“Yes.” Star dismounted. “An Elyndra came for me.” She showed Zetta the torn sleeve of her cloak.
“And the letters?”
Star took a quick intake of breath. The fact Zetta cared more for the letters than her health shocked her. Her tone was cold as evening’s chill. “All delivered by last night’s eventide.”
Zetta swayed, falling back in a wash of relief. “I thought the Elyndra weren’t fast enough to catch you.”
“Me too. Either they’re getting quicker or they’re getting smarter.” Star couldn’t decide which was more frightening.
“And have you brought the letters from Ravencliff?”
“Yes, I have.” Star swished her cloak around her shoulder, revealing the swelled carrier’s bag.
“Good. I’ll take the bag to the first checkpoint and have the letters processed.”
At the time, Star didn’t think much of it when she relinquished the letter bag to Zetta. With the aftermath of the attack still fraying her nerves, she’d forgotten Fallon Leer’s letter to her superior.
Zetta put her palm on Star’s forehead. “You look peaked. Go to the Carriers Station and rest. I’ll get the letters back to you once they are processed. Chloe, over there, can take Windracer to the stables. In the meantime, I’ll fetch a healer to look you over.”
“Thank you, Zetta.” Maybe the old crone cared for her after all.
Chapter 6
Replacement
There was further upheaval waiting for Star once she reached the Carriers Station. As she entered the large domed hall, it seemed as if every duty guard stared at her. Zetta hovered at the edge of the grid, most likely processing the new set of letters. She probably hadn’t even dispatched the healer yet.
Star took a seat on the first available bench by the door, ignoring the apprehensive glances, and buried her head in her hands. With her eyes shut, she rubbed the temples of her forehead, trying to make sense of all the commotion and the raging emotions overwhelming her senses.
When she finally did look up, the guards still shot glances at her over their shoulders. Star weaved a hand through her translucent hair then smoothed her cloak, making sure it was tied straight. Did she look disheveled?
The atmosphere of the usually bustling room was tentative and hushed. People crept back and forth, silently performing their daily duties. No errant conversations were struck up and no easy laughs or wayward smiles were exchanged.
Star looked around, baffled. Had someone died during her absence? She was even more aggravated when no one made an effort to debrief her.
Journey-worn and weary, Star approached the head collector at the main desk. She recognized his curly hair, white as sea foam, from previous runs. He had always been kind to her and she knew she could trust him. “Hello, Darmond.”
The old man raised his head from his littered desk and nodded. “Miss Nightengale, it’s good to see you returned safely.” He returned to shuffling his papers.
“Thank you, Darmond.” At this point, Star had no patience for congenial matters. She bent over the desk, meeting him eye to eye, and spoke in a whisper. “Has something changed since I was gone?”
The papers froze. Darmond squinted. “What do you mean?”
Star bent even closer, her cloak brushing some of the letters piled on his desk. “Darmond, why is everyone staring at me?”
Darmond sighed heavily and looked around with suspicious eyes. Star could tell he tread a fine boundary between his job and the desire to help her.
“Darmond, please, I must know.”
“Zetta hasn’t told you?”
“No. We had other urgent matters to discuss.”
Darmond sniffed, rubbing his nose as if the conversation made him nervous. “It seems while you were away, you’ve been replaced.” His face crinkled in apology, the wrinkles crisscrossing around the corners of his eyes.
“Replaced? What do you mean?” Star’s voice gained force although she knew this type of uproar was the exact mania Darmond tried to avoid. Still, replaced was simply not a word Star was familiar with and certainly not what she expected.
Darmond winced. “There’s a new head of Interkingdom Carriers. The guards, they are waiting to see if you make a scene.”
“What?” Star whipped around, her cloak fluttering. The wall of letterboxes stood by the doorway where she had entered. They contained direct assignments from Zetta to the messengers. With all of the mayhem scrambling around in her mind, she’d strolled directly by it without checking. Star tramped across the room. She didn’t care who saw her or what the others thought. She just wanted to know the truth.
Sure enough, someone had stenciled another name on Star’s letterbox. Star smoothed her fingers along the newly carved wooden plaque. “Tia Rood?”
Whispers filled the air behind her. Star could feel multiple gazes searing her back.
A person with a strong voice called over her shoulder. “Excuse me, young lady. Can I help you with something?” It sounded more like a command than a question.
Star whirled around to see a large-boned woman towering over her. She had short graying hair and small blue eyes that could pierce steel. The woman tilted her pointed chin down to gaze upon Star with arrogant supremacy.
“My letterbox. It’s not here.”
“What’s your name?” The woman’s tone dripped with condescension.
“No, you don’t understand, it used to be—”
“What’s your name?” the woman asked again, relentless and unsympathetic.
“Star Nightengale.”
“I see.” Her eyes slanted. “Your box has changed. It’s down over there in the corner, bottom slot.”
The woman turned to leave, but Star summoned enough courage to keep her still. “Wait. The top spot is supposed to be my box. I am the head rider of the Interkingdom Carriers.” Star’s words came across as more aggressive than she’d intended. “And who are you?”
The woman’s eyebrows rose like she’d seen an annoying gnat fly before her and wanted to squish it. “Zetta has named a new head rider. That would be me, child. Tia Rood.” With that, the woman turned and marched away, leaving Star to gape in numbed astonishment.
Her immobility didn’t last long. Collecting the remnants of her pride, Star ignored the staring guards and burst through the doors of the Carriers Station. She would not give up so easily.
Star set off at a sprint, her thoughts spiraling around the name Tia Rood. Betrayal tore through her emotions; not only by Zetta but by the entire system she once believed was just. She had a thousand accusations, all bubbling, brewing and threatening to explode. It took all of her self-control to hold her composure together as she tried to form coherent arguments she knew Zetta had no validation against.
Zetta was exactly where Star thought she would be—hovering over the collectors as they screened the new shipment of letters. She looked up distractedly as Star approached. “You’re supposed to be resting, Star. I’ve just sent the healer.”
But Star was in no mood for orders. “Zetta,” she said, holding her voice within the confines of agreeable conversation, “who is Tia Rood and why is she named head rider?”
Everyone,