Page 31 of Sun, Moon & Shadow (Fate of Aemoria #1)

Callan’s fury simmered for the entire journey back to Nivali.

Leaving Nova in danger, again , pained him like a blade twisting in his side.

He would have chosen death happily if it meant shielding her from harm.

It took every bit of will he possessed to keep himself from ordering the crew to turn the small vessel around.

All that stopped him was the grim understanding that his motley band of sailors, none of them warriors besides Arik, wouldn’t stand a chance.

So, he manned the tiller and kept the boat on course, his anger sitting like a crushing weight on his chest all the while.

Thorn was waiting at the base of the steps leading to the Great Hall after the ship docked.

Callan stormed past his uncle and several curious onlookers, heading directly to his chamber, where he locked himself away for the remainder of the night.

He was still in bed when Arik knocked the following morning.

“Are you through sulking?” Arik asked.

Callan exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders as unyielding as it had been when he watched Nova being taken from him. He couldn’t shake his suspicion. His fear. He flung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, snatching up a clean pair of breeches and tugging them on.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Arik asked as Callan searched for a fresh shirt. Callan ignored his friend, continuing to dress. In his haste, he nearly toppled over tugging on one of his boots, and Arik steadied him by the arm.Callan wrenched out of his friend’s grip.

“What in Brumal’s name do you think you’re doing, you fool?” Arik barked. Callan returned to where his other boot sat, the worn leather folded over and drooping dejectedly. He threw himself onto the settee and kicked the boot away.

“Nova is in danger,” he snapped, glaring at Arik, who now stood between him and the chamber door, stance wide and thick arms folded across his chest.

“You don’t know that,” Arik said, with entirely too much confidence for Callan’s liking.

“You trust those soldiers who stole her away?” Callan rubbed a hand roughly over his face.

“If their aim was to harm her, why allow any of us to live? The commander kept his word. They could have devised a way to be rid of us as soon as she was out of sight.”

Callan groaned. He didn’t remember Arik being the sensible one when they were younger.

In fact, it was usually the other way around with Callan keeping Arik out of mischief and ridiculous scrapes.

Under other circumstances, he might have applauded his friend for his levelheadedness, but in the moment, Callan wanted to act, however reckless and ill-advised his actions might be.

Callan pinched the bridge of his nose, his thoughts turning to his last moments with Nova. The feeling of her forehead pressed against his.

It felt like a goodbye.

But then, he could have sworn he heard her voice inside his mind, distorted and faraway, promising to return to him.

Had he imagined it? When she’d pulled herself away from him, it was as if she’d taken a piece of him with her.

He felt the absence of it, a gaping hole in his chest. Callan rubbed a hand over his heart, but it did nothing to ease the ache.

Arik spoke again, pulling him from his thoughts.

“You’re staying put, Callan. There’s no way your uncle is going to send armed soldiers to storm the Silvergard Estate to rescue her. And you can’t go alone. Even if you could, there’s no evidence she’s in any danger. I’m sure she’ll write.”

Callan sighed gruffly.

“Your uncle is asking for you. He hasn’t had a chance to gloat yet.”

Callan narrowed his eyes on his old friend. “I could get past you in a heartbeat,” he said, smiling despite the vague twinge of unease still gnawing at his gut.

Arik’s laugh filled the room. “You could try.” He uncrossed his arms and left Callan alone.

Callan shook his head. Best to face his uncle’s reprimand before attempting to ease his frayed nerves on the training field. Opening the wardrobe, he ran his fingers over the silk and velvet of Nova’s gowns before selecting a gray tunic for himself. Once he finished dressing, he exited the chamber.

When he entered the Great Hall, Callan spotted Thorn seated on his throne.

He was engaged in a game of strategy with one of his courtiers, the two taking turns moving small carved figures around the wooden board.

His uncle’s face held a poorly concealed look of boredom, and he perked up immediately upon spying Callan at the base of the stairs.

Thorn dismissed his opponent, waving his nephew over to take a seat on the stool beside him.

Small groups of courtiers lounged about the great room, talking quietly among themselves.

Thorn grasped Callan firmly by the shoulder as he sat.

“I’m pleased to see you,” his uncle said with a genuine smile. “After hearing what happened, I’m surprised you returned at all.”

“We owe our lives to Nova.” Callan left it at that, not eager to revisit the unpleasant memory.

“Indeed.” Thorn swigged from a mug of something and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand.

“The soldiers drew upon us, but to be fair, we were trespassing in their territory,” Callan said, eyeing a nearby tray of fresh bread and sliced cheese. He had missed breakfast. “They were surprisingly forgiving.”

“Well, it would have been unwise to kill a Noble of Nivali.”

“I don’t believe they knew who I was. They came for Nova.”

“Curious.” Thorn twirled the end of his beard between his thumb and forefinger.

“Not so curious.” Callan snatched up a thick slice of bread and tore off a large bite. “As you suspected, she discovered her father had Lunar blood.”

He would never share the truth of Nova’s paternity, but it was no use denying what was obvious to anyone who possessed a functioning pair of eyes.

Callan thought of Nova’s raven hair, infinitely dark against her milky-white skin, and the delicate pink of her flushed cheeks.

He found himself wondering if other parts of her blushed a similar shade.

Thorn was silent for a time, turning one of the carved game pieces in his fingers as Callan ate. Finally, he placed the piece down on the board, gesturing for Callan to join the game. Callan surveyed the board for a moment before moving one of his own tokens.

Thorn prodded absentmindedly at his teeth with his tongue as he pondered his next move.Callan eyed his uncle with mild skepticism. He’d been expecting something akin to the wrath of the gods, but Thorn hadn’t so much as raised his voice. It was entirely out of character.

“I recall you said she is ... how did you phrase it? Important to you?” He nudged a token across the board with his index finger.

“She still is,” Callan said, not looking up.

Even more so, he thought .

Sliding a token to an occupied space, he flicked one of his uncle’s pieces off the board.

“It occurs to me, quite spontaneously, of course, that a union between the two of you could be mutually beneficial for Nivali and Silvergard.” Thorn tapped a finger on the edge of the table, glancing sideways at Callan.

Callan scoffed.“A week past, you would have seen her slaughtered in the middle of this very hall. Now you wish for me to wed her?”

“I’m simply suggesting she could be useful, Callan.” Thorn nudged a token into place and leaned back in his seat, drinking deeply from his mug.

“Nova is not a tool, and I will never seek to manipulate her.” Callan toppled Thorn’s final token with his own, ending the game. “If anything becomes of us, it will be because Nova desires it, not because I orchestrated it.”

Would she ever desire it? While Callan had come to believe something existed between them, she’d certainly given him cause to think he might be mistaken.

Callan stood and stepped down from the platform.

He made a low bow before striding through the doors and out into the morning air, thick with heavy flakes, beyond.

Rounding the corner, he leaned his forearms on the railing of the covered veranda that wrapped around the building.

The frigid wind whipped around him, tugging at his clothes, but he found comfort in the stinging bite.

A sea of small wooden cabins stretched out before him, from the Estate to the docks, countless windows shuttered against the cold.

Gray smoke rose from chimneys, commingling against the overcast sky.

Callan stared at the distant, snowcapped Nephari Mountains to the north.

A wall of solid rock separating Nivali from Silvergard.

Separating him from Nova.