Page 24 of Sun, Moon & Shadow (Fate of Aemoria #1)

“How kind of him.” Nova’s voice lacked the enthusiasm she’d hoped to muster. She worried the ring around her finger, a nervous habit she’d developed since arriving in Aemoria.

“I can have our meal brought up if you’d rather not go,” he offered.

“I don’t wish to cause anyone discomfort.” She attempted a casual laugh, but it came out a bit choked. “Most folk I saw around the Estate today would barely glance in my direction, let alone speak to me.” Her eyes found his, trying to read his reaction there.

Callan’s brow furrowed, and he shook his head, the muscle in his jaw ticking.

“Nivali shares a border with Silvergard. Even before the reign of Onyx and Omen’s attacks around the Realm, there had already been mistrust between the territories for thousands of years.

Onyx’s youngest son sits on the Lunar Throne today.

I’m sorry, Nova—their suspicion is based purely on your appearance. ”

Nova gathered her hair and busied herself with weaving the damp strands into a braid.

What a fool she’d been to believe she’d finally found acceptance.

What did it say about her that even in a world teeming with magic and mythical creatures, she was still wrong somehow?

Still didn’t belong? Callan’s gaze lingered on her.

Nova bit the inside of her cheek, willing her face into a neutral expression.

“Nova.” His tone was apologetic. She couldn’t bear the thought of him pitying her.

“Don’t trouble yourself, Callan. Gods know it isn’t the first time I’ve been judged for my looks.” She secured the end of her plait with a black leather cord and smoothed her hands over the front of her gown. “Let’s join the feast. I’m starving.”

Nova knew her performance hadn’t fooled him. Knew he could see right through her carefully crafted exterior. But he said nothing and simply offered his arm.

The air in the hall was tinged gray with smoke from the fire. A cheerful buzz of laughter and conversation filled the space. Upon the dais sat a long table with several chairs arranged behind it, the surface covered with platters of steaming food and large pitchers.

Thorn presided over the feast wearing a formal blue jacket embroidered with silver thread, though the buttons remained unfastened, revealing a loose-fitting shirt underneath and a patch of dark chest hair peeking out at the collar.

A striking blond sat on his left, dressed in a robe of luxurious blue velvet cinched at the waist. The two reclined lazily in their seats, their faces close together.

The female whispered in Thorn’s ear. Callan tilted his head close to Nova’s as they descended the stairs.

“The female beside my uncle is his consort, Liv. She’s one of the fisher folk.” Liv’s piercing blue gaze fell upon them as they reached the bottom of the staircase. “Thorn says she’s a seer.”

The notion intrigued Nova, but she kept her expression blank as they approached the base of the platform.

Thorn rose from his seat and held his arms wide in welcome.

He clapped his hands loudly, immediately drawing the attention of the feasting crowd, whose voices died down in anticipation of their lord’s address. Thorn raised his cup in the air.

“I welcome my nephew, Callan, and his companion, Nova, as my guests this evening. A toast to our honored guests.”

The room filled with a mix of genuine and half-hearted cheers as those gathered hoisted their own cups high.

Callan bent forward at the waist, holding his fist over his heart.

Nova followed his lead and curtsied, bowing her head respectfully.

Thorn motioned for them to join his table, and the room was, once again, filled with laughter and animated chatter.

Callan pulled Nova’s chair out for her before taking the seat beside his uncle, leaving the chair on her other side empty.

Nova was ravenous, and Callan wasted no time filling a plate with roasted pheasant and root vegetables, which he placed before her.

Nova listened absently as Thorn regaled some of his guests with a tale of a perilous sea voyage, made many years before, when his ship was nearly capsized by a run-in with a sea serpent.

Scanning the crowd in between bites of food and sips of wine, Nova observed several folk watching her with uneasy sideways glances.

For all the gods’ love, smile, she chided herself.

She lifted the corners of her mouth, baring her teeth in an expression she hoped was pleasant.

Eventually, she was forced to look down at her lap to rest her cheeks, which had begun to ache with the effort of appearing likable.

Nova’s head snapped up as Thorn’s consort, Liv, slipped into the empty chair beside her.

She was a stunning beauty. Her skin was a pearlescent white, and sections of her long blond hair were woven into intricate braids.

Liv held her cup loosely in her long fingers, tilting it toward Nova.

“A toast to the outcasts,” she murmured, a conspiratorial smile gracing her lovely face.

Nova lifted her own cup, hesitating for an instant before tapping it lightly against Liv’s. They both drank.

“Half the folk in this room don’t believe I deserve to be here,” Liv said, jerking her delicate chin at the crowd. “I’d wager many more are questioning what you’re doing here.” Her accent gave her voice a musical quality.

If anyone else had spoken to her as Liv had, Nova might have taken offense, but it was clear Liv considered them equals.

“I suppose it must be odd to see someone who looks as I do dining in this hall. At the Noble Lord’s table, no less.” Nova shrugged one shoulder, setting her cup down and nudging her food around her plate with her fork.

“Those who fear you will one day celebrate you.”

Nova looked up, barely able to keep the surprise from her face.

“It doesn’t take a seer to recognize that there is something remarkable about you,” Liv said.

“I’m no one special.”

“You have many questions about the past. Those I cannot answer.” Liv tilted her head to one side, her brows pinched as if in thought. “But, if you’d like, I can try to spy something of your future.” Liv laid a hand palm up in her own lap beneath the table.

Nova wavered for a breath. She glanced at Callan on her right, engrossed in his uncle’s tall tale. The other folk gathered in the hall were occupied with their own conversations. Turning back to Liv, Nova took her hand.

Liv’s eyes fell shut as her fingers closed around Nova’s, then snapped open again an instant later. Her icy blue irises were clouded over with a milky sheen, gleaming like luminous pearls. Her voice was low and monotonous when she spoke. Nova leaned in close to hear her over the noise of the crowd.

“You are born of sun, moon, and shadow. Wherever your path leads, death will follow. Do not despair, for you are the light that casts out the darkness.”

Liv blinked slowly, her eyes returning to their normal color. She released Nova’s hand and straightened in her seat with a casual sigh.

“It appears my cup is empty,” Liv said, picking up her mug.She stood from her chair, bending down beside Nova and speaking low in her ear. “Stay close to Callan. The thread of your life is woven together with his.”

Liv breezed across the platform, returning to her seat beside Thorn on the other end of the table and leaving Nova stunned.

Thorn’s epic tale concluded to a chorus of cheers from his captivated audience.

Callan turned to her, smiling wide enough to show off the dimple in his left cheek.

Nova swallowed past the lump in her throat and forced a smile of her own, tight-lipped and hollow.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur, the noisy gathering muted around her as Liv’s words echoed in her mind, part riddle and part warning.

Fear twisted in the pit of her stomach as she envisioned the specter of death stalking her like a shadow.

But an inconvenient anticipation took root within her, a faint warmth spreading from her chest and out along her limbs, at the confirmation that she and Callan were connected.

Nova studied him from under her lashes. He appeared happier and more at ease than she’d ever seen him, as though he was exactly where he belonged.

She was staring unblinking into the dancing flames of the fire some time later, her empty cup cradled near her chin, when Callan laid a hand on her shoulder. The sounds of the feast suddenly returned to full volume around her, and she blinked several times.

“Are you well?” he asked, his brow creased.

“Yes, of course,” she assured him. “A bit tired.”

“I’ll bring you upstairs,” he said, offering her his hand. They bid his uncle good night before leaving. The cheerful voices of those who continued drinking in the hall faded to a low hum as they neared their chamber.

Callan closed and shielded the door, sealing them away from the rest of the world. Gathering several blankets from the arm of the sofa, he crouched and arranged them into a makeshift bed on the pelt before the hearth.

“It’ll be a few days yet before we’re able to set sail for Illora.” He smoothed his hands over the blankets and moved to the sofa where he tugged off his boots. “I thought we might spend some time training before we leave.”

“I’d like that,” Nova said distractedly, removing one of the plush pillows from the bed and tossing it at him.

He caught the pillow against his chest and set it aside before slipping the bracers off his forearms. “I saw you met Liv. What did you speak about?”

Her heart stuttered. “I allowed her to tell my future.”

Callan was silent for a beat. “And?”

Nova bit her lip. “She told me death will follow me wherever I go, but those who fear me will one day celebrate me.”

Nova remained silent, bracing for Callan’s reaction. She chanced a brief look in his direction. He said nothing, his expression unreadable.

“I know,” she said, forcing a dry laugh. “It’s ridiculous.” She gripped the layers of blankets and tugged, roughly turning down the bed.

“I didn’t say that,” Callan protested, his voice quiet.

Nova pinched the bridge of her nose, hot tears stinging at the corners of her eyes. “I wouldn’t fault you for thinking it.”

“Nova—”

“Don’t, Callan.” She couldn't bear the tenderness in his voice as he spoke her name. She turned to him, her face a mask of cold indifference. “I’m not a child. I know there’s nothing remarkable about me. Liv was simply having a bit of fun at my expense.”

“Nova, look at me.” He was beside her then, his fingers loosely circling her wrist. She wrenched her hand away from his touch.

“Forgive me.” He stepped away from her, clasping his hands behind his back. “I thought ... last night—”

“Last night was a mistake,” she said, lacing her words with as much ice as she could summon. “It never should have happened.”

“I see.” Callan’s face fell, and she was taken aback by the depth of pain conveyed in such a simple look. Her rejection had cut him deeper than any blade ever could.

Callan didn’t try to speak, his jaw tight and face drawn.

Nova spun, forcing herself to turn away from the hurt shining in his eyes.

She rushed into the bathing chamber and closed the door against the overpowering attraction intent on drawing her to him no matter how fiercely she fought against it.

When she came out a short time later, Callan had blown out the candles.

He lay on the floor with his broad back to her, silhouetted against the glow of the fire.

Nova crept into bed quietly and buried her face in the soft down of the pillow.

Only then did she allow her tears to fall, silent and hidden, the evidence of them quickly vanishing into the pillowcase.

She desperately needed Liv’s premonition to be false.

Her words had confirmed what Nova already felt.

Already feared. There was something between her and Callan.

She’d already allowed herself to grow too close to him. Too fond of him.

Nova had known love before. Knew what it was to accept someone into your heart, into your body. She also knew the bitter taste and hollow ache of heartbreak; it was a pain she feared she wouldn’t survive a second time.

She peeked over the covers to where Callan lay motionless. Her awareness of his anguish twisted like a knife in her chest. But she knew it was nothing compared to the suffering she would endure if she allowed herself to love him. If she gave herself to him entirely and he left her.

As everyone else had.

A full minute passed before Callan realized he was staring at the door through which Nova had disappeared.

His fists hung clenched at his sides, palms dusted with a biting frost, the blue haze swirling in his field of vision.

He crossed to the fireplace, standing in the spot where he and Nova had kissed the night before.

No, it was more than a kiss. It had awakened something in him, something buried deep and long forgotten.

He’d felt more alive in that fleeting moment with her wrapped in his arms than he had for centuries.

She’d returned his kiss with a passion that seemed to burn as intensely as the one blazing within him.

Or had he imagined that? If they hadn’t been interrupted .

.. Well, they had been interrupted. It was no use speculating.

But now, the connection he’d felt earlier in the day, passing like an invisible thread between them, seemed to have been severed. Something had changed, but what?

Liv.

There must have been more to her premonition.

He approached the bathing chamber door, intending to knock, but stopped short, his hand hovering in midair. Nova had kissed him after he told her the story of how he’d lost his parents. Callan winced. She hadn’t kissed him out of passion at all.

It was pity .

A prickly heat crept up his neck, and he blinked against an unwelcome sting at the corners of his eyes.

How could he have been so foolish? She’d felt sorry for him, and he’d taken advantage.

He’d been out of control since the night he met her.

Confronting Evander, unleashing his magic, returning to Nivali on a whim after two hundred years. And that godsdamned kiss.

Callan spun away from the door, sending a brisk gust of wind racing through the room, extinguishing all the candles.

He lay down on his blankets before the hearth, staring into the flickering flames.

He heard Nova slipping into bed a short time later but made no attempt to speak to her.

He closed his eyes tightly and realized his anger had already dissipated, leaving only hollow regret in its place.