Messenger in the Mist. Aubrie Dionne
Not only were they severely deprived of light, but grunge and debris blocked whatever warm glow trickled from the crude windows of the inner dwellings. Star struck another match, taking note of how many she had left. This time she didn’t care whom she summoned from the bowels of the underworld. Her sole purpose was to get the letter delivered in order to return home.
Number 11678 rested in the corner, behind a heap of fallen rubble. Star dismounted and struck yet another flame, throwing the previous matchstick on the littered ground below. She picked a haphazard path through the ruins, careful not to tread on a shard of broken glass or upturned scrap metal. After a swift knock, she waited at the sloped entrance.
The door opened and a young man emerged, his face illuminated by the flickering of the matchstick. He wore only a pair of black leather pants, his upper body naked, exposing sinuous muscles covered in painted tattoos. A herd of racing horses ran down his arm in blue-black ink. Star had to keep her head up and remind herself not to stare at the elaborate decorations or the curves of his chest.
His chin jutted out from a strong-boned face that commanded respect. He looked like a lion waiting to pounce. He smiled at Star like he wondered whether to eat her. “Yes?”
Star did not flinch. She thought she could outwit him, if need be. “I have a message for a Fallon Leer.”
The man leaned against the opened door. “That’s me.”
Star held her head high. With one eyebrow arched, she leveled her eyes with his own penetrating gaze. “I need to see identification.”
With a furtive glance at Star, the man reached in his pocket and brought out a woven chain. Suspended on the necklace hung a metal tag glittering in the glowing embers of Star’s matchstick. Sure enough, the tag read Fallon Leer. Star recognized the gold inscription immediately. He was a former member of Ravencliff’s elite Royal Guard. Either he’d quit or they’d thrown him out.
Star didn’t have the time to consider his deposition further. She dutifully brought out the letter. “It is my job to warn you there is no return address. Open it with discretion.”
Fallon Leer laughed lightly, his voice smooth as aged wine. “I know who it’s from, thank you.”
Star turned around, but the man grabbed her hand with his own callused fingertips, his skin rough and hot to her touch. For a moment she thought she would have to test her combat skills once again, but he released her. “Wait.” He disappeared inside the darkness of his shambled quarters before emerging with another letter. “This goes directly to Zetta.”
Star froze at the mention of her superior’s name. Why would a scoundrel like him know Zetta? But under the terms of her messenger code, her lips remained sealed like the secret letter he held in his hands.
“And the payment?”
“To be paid by the recipient.”
She considered his request, weighing the unlikely possibility Zetta would pay for any letter from him. But it wasn’t in her authority to inquire. If Zetta refused to pay for it, the letter would be shredded and discarded. She could not bend the rule of the Interkingdom Carriers. Taking it from his hands, Star slipped the letter into her carrier bag and turned away.
He called after her, a comical lilt to his tone. “It’s a little late for a messenger to be gallivanting around, isn’t it?”
Star turned back, her hair whipping around her face in a shining veil. “I can take care of myself.” His eyes flared as if he found her bold retort appealing. Feeling a little awkward, she mounted Windracer and rode away.
* * * *
When Star returned to the Overflow Tavern, most of the booths were empty. Hilda had stacked mugs in toppling array on the bar and wiped the tabletops with a rag and soapy water. Dinner had ended long ago.
“Long day?” Hilda asked as Star plopped herself down into a booth by the windowsill. She was grateful to have a warmly lit place to return to, but somehow the glow of firelight couldn’t quite shake the haunting images of the night’s rambles out of her head. At least her bag was empty.
“You could say that, yes.”
Hilda grinned wide. “Let me get you our special tonight. It will make it all worth it. I hope you got a substantial reward for returning that bunnyfly.”
The barmaid’s comment reminded Star of Valen’s gift. Digging in her coat, she brought the gilded box into the lantern light, and it sparkled as though a chip of the rising sun had fallen into her hands. Star immediately held it down, afraid to draw attention, as two men sauntered in from the night and sat in the booth behind her. One was older, almost her father’s age, and the other was not much older than herself.
As she smoothed her fingertips over the lid, she overheard their conversation waft up from the wooden stalls.
“More and more these days, there’s talk of war.”
“It’s a good thing that mist is holding back Evenspark’s army,” the younger man grumbled. “The Queen of Evenspark’s been raving mad ever since our king took that silly nobody as his bride.”
“Ha. He passed her up many years ago for a barmaid, a young girl, nonetheless.”
“She’s a nobody.”
“But she’s beautiful, and from what I hear, Evenspark’s queen isn’t exactly a swan, you know.”
“What have you heard?”
The older man’s voice fell to a whisper. “I heard she’s got some hideous disease, skin all puckered up with pus and blood.”
Star shook her head in disgust of the gossip. The rumors of Evenspark’s disfigured queen had spun out of control ever since her birth. The queen was a reclusive sort, sequestering herself in the castle and only showing her veiled face at royal ceremonies. But it was no reason for Ravencliff’s ruffians to create pernicious lies.
She’d had enough of their ridiculous talk and took a quick breath of air, ready to intrude when the younger man responded in exasperation. “Naw. That’s only a story meant to scare tots into eating their vegetables. No one’s actually seen her face. She’s always wearing some veil or another.”
“What with the Elyndra, you’d think they have enough scary stories for the little ’uns. No, I think there’s some truth in it. Why else would she hide her face?”
Star braced herself for a fight, but the younger man brushed it off. “Suit yourself, it’s a moot point anyway. He married the girl nobody and now they have Bellanina.”
“Yes, but the king doesn’t need another heir. Prince Valen is quite enough to keep the kingdom going.”
“And dual heirs always stir up trouble.”
Star hunched down. The conversation grew increasingly intriguing. If they caught her eavesdropping, their tongues would not wag any further.
“Let us hope Valen can smooth over any quarrels.”
“Yeah, there’s Princess Vespa, the queen’s niece over in Evenspark. There are rumors Valen’s betrothed to her already.”
The word betrothed assaulted her ears and Star’s heart felt like it tore into two halves. The door to her hopes slammed with a rude thud. She couldn’t help but keep listening, like one captivated by a hunter’s arrow as it rode the wind to strike a deer.
“Let’s hope he doesn’t mess it up like his father.”
“Yeah, choose some beautiful girl nobody and make everyone angry.”
Star looked at the gilded box guiltily. She couldn’t possibly be the one to steal Valen’s heart. Slowly, her fingernails pried open the latch and she raised the lid.
Inside laid a jeweled necklace with a ruby, bigger than her eye, chipped into the unmistakable shape of a heart.
Chapter