Messenger in the Mist (6 page)

Star sheathed the dagger. The blade reached too short to cause any damage and the iridescent carapace covering the Elyndra’s legs was too thick to penetrate. She would have to think of another tactic.

But she did not have enough time before it attacked again. Star’s initial shock gave way to blazing fury, and this time she grabbed one of its spindly legs. She yanked down and twisted, throwing it off balance. The beast careened backward into the mist. She had caught it off guard. Behind her, she heard it tumble onto the ground.

Star did not look back to see what became of the beast. It did not attack again, but she could not subdue her racing heart. It beat against her chest like a wild animal held against its will in the cage of her ribs. Her stomach pitched, and she was thankful she hadn’t eaten anything after Hilda’s beefy breakfast.

It had been Star’s first physical contact with the flying beasts. The Elyndra had always been a ghost of a threat, a legend spun by the fireside to scare wild children into behaving. Mothers would say, “Eat your dinner, or I’ll let the Elyndra carry you away to the bad children’s land.” Sometimes Star even wondered if they were out there at all or if it was a myth created by past queens in order to control their subjects.

Now she knew the Elyndra were real, and Zetta’s warnings rang with the bell of truth resonating in her head.

The remaining stretch of the journey was a blur of scattered thoughts and anxious fretting. Relief came when the metal grid work surrounding Evenspark claimed the horizon in a shell of wires capping the hilltop. Blacksmiths had forged the giant screen a century ago, welding it together and attaching it to a large gate that looked like a mouth of crooked dragon’s teeth.

The screech of the grid coming apart was like angels singing to Star’s ear. She rode through the mouth of metalwork and, for the first time, looked back to make sure it closed behind her. Star watched mesmerized as the chrome strands intertwined once again, sealing the Elyndra out. The grid had never been more reassuring and relief eased her tired muscles, despite the fact that she carried Valen’s letter to Vespa.

Taking deep breaths to calm herself, she and Windracer trotted toward headquarters.

“Something wrong?”

Star jumped in her saddle. Immersed in her thoughts, she didn’t see Zetta approach. Did 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.

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, including the head collector, looked up in sheer astonishment. Zetta stopped shuffling the letters and gestured for Star to meet her beyond the ears of the other workers. They walked away from the collectors toward the clang of the mist blowers. Star could barely contain her emotions as she waited for Zetta to answer her question.

“Dear Star, you know I must do what is in the best interest of the Interkingdom Carriers.” Zetta’s words were practiced and unemotional.

“But I’ve trained all my life. I’m the best rider you have.”

“Tia Rood comes from a background of great expertise. She’s worked at the castle for years now and understands what it is to be diplomatic.”

“With all due respect, diplomacy has nothing to do with riding—”

“Star, we need someone with years of experience in charge. Someone who can navigate sticky situations with grace and ease. Someone who will be respected by all.”

She knew she was less than smooth when dealing with patrons. Sometimes her desire for quality and efficiency put her at odds with other people’s wishes, and her curtness when asked about the letters didn’t help. But she had always thought the decisions she made were fair.

Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter. To Zetta, Tia was either some great letter goddess or an age-old friend. Star became more and more frustrated with every word from Zetta’s mouth. The barrier separating thought from speech dissolved, leaving Star with no filter to hold back her words. In a rash moment, she spoke her mind. “Zetta, that woman is way too big to ride. She’ll never make it to Ravencliff.” Guilt shot through her for saying it, but the comment had already been spoken and there was no way to take it back.

“Enough!” Zetta’s words silenced Star’s complaints for good. “You have overstepped your position here. If I wanted your opinion, I would have asked for it. Tia will finish your mission for today. Collect your empty letter bag and go home. I am assigning you a period of house arrest as you heal from the mental strain your being attacked has caused.”

Zetta’s command shocked Star out of her wits. She felt aggravated, cheated and, above all, embarrassed. Not only had she reacted unprofessionally, but she had fueled the fires of hate, making the situation even worse. Gathering her letter bag, she skulked away in silent resignation. Her one consolation was the fact she didn’t have to deliver that awful love letter to Princess Vespa.

Darmond stopped her before she crossed the threshold into town. “Wait! Stop, Miss Nightengale, immediately!”

Both Star and Zetta looked at him like he had lost his good reason, but the head collector stood confidently, a single letter in hand. “This letter requests Star Nightengale to deliver it with her own hands and no one else.”

“What?” Zetta ran over before Star could say a word, letter in hand to inspect it herself. Star wondered who would choose her as their single delivery messenger.

Zetta held the letter up to her eyes as if Darmond had misread it. She crinkled her nose in disgust and handed Star the sealed paper. “Fine, you may deliver this one. But afterward, go right on home and rest.” Her eyes grew watery with melancholy, but Star knew it was all a bunch of wonderful nonsense by now. “We care for your well being here at Evenspark’s Interkingdom Carriers.”

Star thought she’d won a small victory. At least one of her customers had the common sense to stand by her. As she took the letter in her own hands, she looked down to see who would exhibit such an ostentatious show of favoritism.

A surge of irrepressible heartsickness came over her as she beheld the revolting truth of the recipient of the letter. A hasty scribbled name mocked her sore emotions:
Princess Vespa
.

Evenspark Castle

Unlike the slick ebony walls of Ravencliff, Castle Evenspark glittered like it was studded with millions of diamonds. Made entirely from granite embedded with mica, the glinting silver chips refracted the rays of the sun, casting multifaceted prisms in every direction. In the height of the afternoon, it sparkled beneath the grid.

But not for Star. Riding past the glimmering facade, Star was too immersed in her own thoughts to appreciate the splendor. She couldn’t imagine what cruel, twisted inclination made Valen request her as the specific liaison of his love letter to Princess Vespa. Was he blind to her feelings? Had she completely masked her blossoming infatuation? Or was he purposefully confirming whom he truly loved in an effort to push the cravings of her meager heart away?