Page 26 of Sun, Moon & Shadow (Fate of Aemoria #1)

Nova leaned over the side of the ship, staring into the choppy water gone murky in the growing dusk. She dangled her arm overboard, the cold spray of saltwater misting her sleeve as she tried to dip her fingers into the sea.

An unfamiliar voice, deep and rich, came from behind her. “Careful you don’t fall in.”

She turned her head to find Arik, the solid height of him towering over her like a marble statue.

“Our legends tell of Laika, a great sea beast that roams the ocean. She shipwrecks those who fail to make an offering in exchange for safe passage.” Nova had never heard the legend. She gathered he was teasing, trying to frighten her.

“What sort of offering?” she asked, rising to stand beside him. She craned her neck to meet his dark eyes.

Arik shrugged. “A blood sacrifice. A goat, perhaps.” He grinned at her, his teeth standing out against his dark skin in the fading light. “But some gold or jewels might do the trick.”

Nova brought her hands to her face, running her fingers over the earrings from Fawn. They were silver, but the pale stones were lovely and seemed to glow faintly. She removed them with some hesitation and held her hand over the side of the boat, closing her eyes.

“Laika, please accept this offering in exchange for our safe journey,” she murmured solemnly. She tipped her cupped palm, and the earrings dropped with a plunk, sinking into the seemingly endless depths below. Arik nodded in approval.

Callan’s voice carried on the wind, drawing Nova’s attention.

He stood at the bow with one of the sailors, gesturing at the sky and the empty horizon sprawled out before them.

She noted that several of the crew appeared to be keeping a watchful eye on him.

It suddenly occurred to her that perhaps she should have been keeping a wary eye on the crew.

“Do they not trust him?”

Arik followed her gaze, then leaned forward, resting his elbows on the rail.

“Many who don’t know him, fear him,” he said, voice quiet.

A laugh nearly passed her lips, but his expression had grown serious.

“Why should anyone fear Callan?” she asked, leaning forward and extending her hand toward the water once again.

Arik shot a quick glance to where Callan stood, still occupied.

“Has he told you of his parents’ deaths?” he asked, his voice barely audible over the sound of the vessel cutting through the waves.

Nova nodded. Arik tapped his thumbs together a few times before continuing.

“When Omen of Raven’s Isle murdered his own father and brother, he became a threat to the authority of the Aemorian Council.”

“The Council of the leaders from each Court?”

Arik nodded. “But Omen wasn’t alone in defying them.

Separatist groups had operated in secret for centuries.

For them, Omen’s act in defiance of Aemorian law was a catalyst to band together, conspiring to overthrow the Council in favor of each Court’s right to govern itself, free from oversight.

The Council was desperate to find the leaders of the movement and bring them to justice.

“Tensions between Silvergard and Nivali had been high for generations. After his parents were killed in an attack orchestrated by Omen, Callan wasn’t himself.

Wasn’t thinking clearly. He appeared before the Council less than a year after his parents died and convinced them to task him with tracking down the separatists. The Council agreed unanimously.

“I told him it was unwise. I’d never seen someone so utterly empty yet so full of rage.

I offered to go with him, so I could keep an eye on him.

Eventually, we located our first target, Ithan Greylock, a separatist leader from Maedwen.

He was hiding out with a group of eight high-ranking members in an abandoned temple in the Wylds.

“The Council granted us authority to bring the targets in alive or dead, with a preference for the former, so they could answer for their treason. When Callan tried to detain him, Greylock provoked him. Spewed vile things about Callan’s parents.

Praised Omen for his courage to act. When Greylock drew his sword, Callan’s rage boiled over. It consumed him.”

Arik fell silent, pursing his lips.

“He killed Greylock. Killed them all.” He exhaled sharply. “And when he was through, I didn’t see my friend behind his eyes. It was as if he wasn’t there. Didn’t realize what he’d done.”

Nova imagined the scene Arik described: a slaughter with Callan, dazed and blood spattered, at the center of it.

The bite of her fingernails against her palms brought her back to herself.

She splayed her fingers wide and rested her hands on the wood rail.

Perhaps she ought to fear him as others did, but she didn’t.

Her heart ached for him. For the son who felt he had failed his parents.

For the young male desperate to absolve himself of his shame.

“Did it ever happen again?”

“No,” Arik said firmly. “We tracked fugitives for the Council for decades afterward, and he always maintained control. That’s not to say he never took another life, mind you.

There’s plenty of blood on Callan’s hands.

But he never lost himself again. Callan was haunted by what he’d done.

The Council spread the tale throughout the Realm, thinking it would serve as a deterrent.

They called him Aemoria’s Blade. Unfortunately, the name, and the reputation, stuck. ”

Nova studied Callan in the fading daylight.

His spine as straight as the ship’s mast. The tension between his broad shoulders strung as taut as a mooring line.

She wondered if it tired him, keeping his shield in place and maintaining constant control.

Perhaps he’d grown so used to hiding his true self that he barely noticed.

But she had peeked behind the shield. A shiver bloomed at the base of her spine at the thought of Callan unrestrained.

As if sensing her gaze, Callan glanced in her direction and returned to the stern.

A crewmember had climbed up and sat perched on the peaked bow.

The rest of the crew had laid themselves out on the deck for rest. Arik nodded a silent goodbye and returned to his position by the mast. Nova joined Callan on the bench.

Shifting in his seat, he removed something from the pouch at his hip: a smooth, cloudy stone the size of a robin's egg that emitted a pale light.

“It’s a moonstone. They glow brightest at night,” he explained, placing the stone in her palm. “They’re native to Silvergard. The Lunar Court exports them as light sources.”

Entranced, Nova passed it between her hands several times before returning it to him, realizing the earrings she had sacrificed to Laika must have been moonstones as well.

She slumped down on the bench, leaning back against the side of the ship and tilting her head to stare at the seemingly endless expanse of dark sky sprinkled with gleaming stars overhead.

One star shone with a light that put all others to shame.

“What star is that?” she asked, pointing.

“ That is Illora.”

“As in the Temple of Illora?”

He nodded. “Do you know the legend?”

Nova shook her head.

“Illora was a day goddess. Her sister Aurore, the goddess of the sun, always shone brighter than she did. Illora envied how her sister’s light nurtured the first beings of the world, providing them with warmth and strengthening their crops.

She wished to be of use to the vulnerable creatures, but she was always invisible next to her sister.

“At night, the beings were swallowed by darkness.

They had Orika, of course, whose moon shone brightly when it was full.

But the moon was inconstant, at times dimmed or not visible at all.

So, Illora renounced her position as a day goddess and gave up her proximity to her sister to become a permanent fixture in the night sky.

“She winked out into nothing, vanishing for a full day before finally reappearing once the sky grew dark to become a light in the darkness for the beings of the world. In fact, she’s the patron goddess of sailors, who rely on her for navigation.

Tomorrow you’ll be standing in the temple dedicated to her. ”

A shiver ran through her as he finished the tale, and she pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her cloak around her legs. Callan fell silent, lost in thought as he, too, stared up at the sky, his dark brows drawn together.

“What troubles you?” she asked.

“When I look up at the stars—” He shook his head as if he thought himself foolish. “They remind me of the night I met you. After we crossed the Boundary.”

Nova shifted on the hard bench.

“Of how I failed you. How you nearly died because I left you alone.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” she murmured, looking at him from under her lashes.

He shook his head again, the corners of his mouth drooping into a frown before he turned away from her. Nova hugged her knees tighter against her chest, afraid she would reach out and touch him if she didn’t.

Turning her eyes skyward, she stared at Illora, glinting against the black canvas of the sky, until her eyelids grew heavy and drifted shut, the motion of the boat on the waves lulling her to sleep.