Page 41 of Sun, Moon & Shadow (Fate of Aemoria #1)

Nova groaned through her teeth, clutching her abdomen and wishing, for the briefest of moments, that she were dead. It was only a matter of time before it arrived: her first cycle since taking on her Fae form. Nova had always found her courses unpleasant, but this was godsdamned excruciating.

Her lady’s maid entered her chamber to find her rolling around on top of her bedsheets, trying to find a comfortable position.

“You really ought to be dressed by now,” Isla tsked as she fluttered about the room, tidying up the clothing scattered on the floor and hanging from every knob. “Commander Lucan will be cross if you’re late.”

“Please inform the commander that I’m ill and I don’t wish to be disturbed,” Nova said, sighing as she finally found a mildly contorted pose that relieved her discomfort for the moment. “Could you bring me something sweet from the kitchens?” she whimpered.

Isla leaned down and ran a hand across Nova’s forehead, brushing several wayward strands from her eyes.

“I’ll see what I can manage,” she said before flitting out into the corridor.

Another spasm rippled through Nova’s lower abdomen, and she folded in on herself.

Grabbing one of her pillows, she clamped it between her thighs and curled into a ball in the center of the bed.

The pressure of the bedding between her legs felt surprisingly pleasant, briefly distracting her from the pain.

Nova stilled at the sudden overwhelming feeling of arousal mingling with the throbbing ache inside of her.

Sliding her hands over her breasts, she squeezed gently through the thin satin of her nightdress.

They felt full and tender, but it was a delicious sort of pain that had her biting her bottom lip.

Nova threw her legs over the side of the bed and headed for the bathing chamber, stripping down and leaving the garment in a pile on the floor as she went.

The steaming water cradled her, and she released a contented moan as she lowered herself into the tub.

An old letter from Callan sat on the small side table beside an empty teacup.

She unfolded the paper along the well-worn creases and read his message for what was likely the twentieth time, absentmindedly tracing the lines of his script with her fingertips.

It had been nearly two weeks since he’d last written her.

The sting of rejection took her by surprise.

Perhaps out of sight is out of mind , she thought.

The tone of his messages was always casual, but she knew he remained suspicious of her uncle’s intentions, offering several times to come steal her away.

She always wrote back, her replies matching his tone.

Still, she sensed the pull stretching between them, drawing her thoughts back to him again and again, despite time and distance.

Nova set the letter back on the table and sank lower until the water lapped at the hollow below her bottom lip.

She raked her fingers along the surface of the water, miniature whirlpools swirling in their wake.

She thought of Callan’s hands, strong enough to wield a longsword but gentle enough to braid her hair.

Her eyes drifted shut, and she imagined it was Callan’s hands sinking beneath the water, massaging her breasts and gently rolling her nipples between his fingers.

She sighed, envisioning those same nimble fingers moving lower, brushing against her inner thighs and stroking her clit before sliding inside her, again and again, until her entire body shuddered with pleasure.

Nova teetered on the edge of a Realm-shattering release when a series of knocks sounded on her chamber door, wrenching her from the fantasy.

Her vision flooded red, and she rose out of the water, yanking on her black silk robe without bothering to towel off first.

“Godsdamn it, Lucan,” she growled, storming to her chamber door. “I said to leave me—” Ripping the door wide open, she found not Lucan but Idrian standing on the other side. “Alone,” she finished, blowing a loose strand of hair out of her eyes and refusing to look as mortified as she felt.

A half smile curled on Idrian’s lips as he glanced down at her robe. The fabric was damp in spots and clung to the curves of her body. Nova ducked behind the door and cleared her throat.

“I heard you weren’t feeling well,” he said.

Isla was nothing if not a gossip. That and Idrian had already charmed his way into the good graces of every member of the household staff in his short time at the Estate. They were all too happy to grant whatever request he made of them, her lady’s maid included.

“I come bearing gifts.” Idrian held out his hands, a book in one and a small paper box in the other. Nova took both items, looking up at him with a vaguely skeptical expression.

What is he after?

“Something to read, and something to eat,” he explained as she lifted the lid of the box, revealing a handful of dark chocolates nestled inside. “There’s a shop in the city known throughout the territory for making the most decadent little treats.”

Nova inhaled deeply, the aroma of sugar wafting out of the decorative box.

“How unexpected,” she said, maintaining a neutral expression.

“I do enjoy defying expectations,” he replied, his voice low as he stared at her intently.

Idrian cast a quick glance down the hallway before stepping in closer and leaning his shoulder against the doorframe.

“Is there any other way I may be of service to you today, Nova?” His eyes dimmed a shade darker, his words laced with hidden meaning. The open, youthful expression he normally wore morphed into a heavy-lidded stare. It felt like a challenge.

There was that feeling again. Like she was standing too close to the edge. Nova gripped the doorknob with her free hand.

“No,” she said finally, her tone friendly but firm. “I believe I’ve benefitted from your kindness enough for one day.”

“Very well.” Idrian’s gaze brightened, and he shoved off the doorframe. “I’ve accepted an invitation from Lord Nox to dine with you all. I hope you’ll be feeling better by the dinner hour.”

“We shall see. I should rest.”

“Of course.” He took a step back and bowed formally before taking his leave.

Nova shoved the door closed with her hip, balancing the book and the chocolates in her arms, and went to the bed.

Easing down onto her stomach, she opened the small box and brought one of the treats to her lips.

The chocolate was delicious, dark and slightly bitter as it melted on her tongue; it was precisely what she craved.

She rolled onto her back, flipping through the pages of Idrian’s book. A small square of black parchment fluttered out and landed on her chest. A note was written in silver ink, the lettering boxy and masculine.

Will they, or won’t they?

Nova opened the book to the title page and read through the first several chapters, chuckling out loud from time to time in the quiet of her room. The decorated general had brought her a romance novel. She shook her head, entirely unsure what to make of him.

Defying expectations, indeed.

The Great Hall thrummed with lively conversation, occasional peals of laughter ringing out above the hum. Nova swirled deep red wine around the globe of her crystal glass. She sat flanked by Nox, seated at the head of the table on her right, and Lucan, lounging in his chair on her left.

She tilted her head back, drinking in the view of the moon visible through the glass ceiling.

A waxing crescent hung against the dark sky, casting minimal light, but the ornate moonstone chandelier brightened the space.

The terms of Nova’s bargain stipulated that she remain in the Lunar Court until the next new moon.

With the end drawing near, she wasn’t certain she wanted to leave.

The grand table was packed to capacity with members of Nox’s Court.

Many were painters and sculptors, though there were a few musicians and composers peppered in.

Every one of them had welcomed her with open arms—no trace of fear in their eyes when they looked at her.

For the first time in her life, Nova felt as though she belonged.

As if she was precisely where she was meant to be.

Discreetly, she observed Idrian at the far end of the table seated on the opposite side.

His gaze locked on hers, and Nova wondered whether he had been watching her, too.

He ran his fingertips along the stem of his glass before lifting it to his lips and taking a sip, his eyes not leaving hers.

Nova flashed a thin smile and looked away, shifting in her seat.

“What’s wrong with you?” Lucan asked, tearing into a crusty roll with his sharp teeth.

“Nothing. I’m fine,” she said, waving him off. “I sometimes find it difficult to sit through these five-course meals.”

“Maybe you wouldn’t be so restless if you’d made it to training earlier.”

“As I already told you, Commander, I was dealing with female troubles—”

“Spare me the details, please.” Lucan tossed his half-eaten roll onto his plate.

Nova chuckled to herself. It was endlessly satisfying to get under Lucan’s skin; he preferred to be the one ruffling feathers.

The delicate tinkling of a knife against stemware drew everyone’s attention to the far end of the table where Idrian stood, wineglass in hand.

“I’m a soldier and not accustomed to making flowery speeches,” he began, glancing around at the other guests. “But I hope you’ll all indulge me, as I’d like to make a toast to our Noble Lord.”

All eyes flicked briefly to Nox, a casual but commanding presence.

“Silvergard is no longer what it once was,” Idrian continued.

Many of the guests lowered their heads, no doubt recalling the dark times they had lived through.

“Change happens slowly, but the Lunar Court has turned a page over the past century. So, let us raise our glasses to Lord Nox—the one responsible for changing ... everything.”

Cheers and applause burst forth from Nox’s guests, and Idrian lifted his glass.

Nox tipped his head and drank from his own cup, but his charcoal eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze lingering on Idrian.

Nova imagined her uncle respected the general but would never entirely trust him.

While both males were idealists, they had vastly different worldviews.

Lucan snorted beside her, the sound mercifully muffled by the trailing applause.

“Have some manners,” she hissed, nudging his knee with her own.

“Oh, please,” he muttered, twisting his torso to face her, his back to the general. “Surely you can see what a bootlicker he is. He’s here to ask Nox for coin for his troops. He’d say anything to get what he wants.”

“Don’t be so cynical.”

“It’s my job to be cynical,” he said, turning back to monitor Idrian, who had returned to his seat. “It’s how I’ve managed to keep Nox safe all these years.”

Nova rolled her eyes and leaned back in her seat, bringing her glass to her lips again.

She watched Idrian closely as he chatted with the guests seated around him, a charming smile stretched above his proud chin.

Perhaps she’d missed it thanks to Lucan’s antics, but she couldn’t recall if she’d seen the general drink to his own toast.