Free Messenger in the Mist by Aubrie Dionne Page 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