Page 43 of Sun, Moon & Shadow (Fate of Aemoria #1)

Only two days remained until Nova’s bargain would expire. Nox flagged her down in the hallway as she rushed to meet Lucan for training. She barely stopped when she reached him, turning in his direction and continuing to jog backward as he spoke.

“I have something special planned for today. Isla will help you dress after training.” He sent her on her way with a wave of his hand. “Try not to take any hits to the face,” he called out a second later.

Nova grinned like a fool, recalling the elbow to the mouth that had left her with a split lip after her first day in the sparring ring. It felt like ages had passed since then.

As she reached the base of the stairs, Lucan tossed her an apple, his raised eyebrow a reminder that he didn’t appreciate being kept waiting. Without a word, he turned and marched toward the front door, and Nova rushed to keep pace with his determined stride.

Having reached the end of her training session unscathed, Nova headed back to her room several hours later, finding Isla already waiting inside.

“Gods, you look awful. This will never do,” Isla tutted, shoving her into the bathing chamber.

Nova glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Large sections of her hair had come loose from her braid and lay plastered with sweat to the sides of her face. Wispier strands flared out around her crown in a dark halo.

Once Nova had been scrubbed to Isla’s satisfaction, the lady’s maid dried her hair and gathered it into a sleek twist with several long tendrils.

A circlet of fine silver set with a single teardrop moonstone was laid on Nova’s head, the stone dangling in the center of her forehead.

Isla reached into the armoire and brought out a new gown of fine silk, the color a deep oxblood.

Nova stepped into the sleek skirt before slipping her arms into the dress.

The sleeveless gown had a high neck and a keyhole cutout extending from the hollow at the base of her throat to midway down her abdomen.

The fabric clung to her chest and hips before belling out around her legs and trailing in a short train behind her.

Black silk slippers and twin silver cuffs, one for each wrist, completed the ensemble.

Nova rubbed her thumb over the smooth white stone of her mother’s ring.

It had become a talisman of sorts, easing her anxiety whenever it flared.

Satisfied with her handiwork, Isla nodded and headed for the door, taking to her wings and beckoning Nova to follow.

Floating along a short distance ahead, Isla led Nova to the main level, stopping at the rear of the Great Hall in front of a door which Nova had never passed through.

Inside a small antechamber, she found Nox waiting for her on a low sofa.

He sprang to his feet as she entered, taking her hands in his.

“You look stunning.” He beamed as he held her at arm’s length.

“It’s not me,” she said, awkward under his focused attention. “It’s the dress.”

“I’m certain, in your case, the opposite is true.”

He dropped one of her hands but held fast to the other, leading her toward a second door.

Through it, they entered a long corridor lined on both sides with floor-to-ceiling glass.

A warm breeze blew in through the open windows and set the long gossamer curtains dancing as Nova and her uncle passed.

Suddenly Nova froze, tugging on Nox’s hand as a swell of recognition crashed against her: This was the hallway he had shown her in a dream.

A prickly sensation crept along the length of her spine.

Nova shuddered.

Nox turned to face her. She stared past him at the large double doors looming at the far end of the hall. He spoke her name softly and bent his head to meet her eyes, which flicked from him to the doors and back again.

“I know this place,” she murmured.

“Yes,” he said, placing his hands firmly on her upper arms. “On the other side of those doors is the throne room.”

Nova nodded, her breath quickening as she recalled Nox’s memories made real by the visceral sensations of terror and nausea she’d felt in her dream.

“All is well, Nova,” he assured her. “You’re safe with me.”

Nox held his hand out to her, palm up. An invitation. She held her breath for an instant before she accepted.

The great doors swung open before them, and a shiver ran through her as she laid eyes on the ornate moonstone throne, glowing where it sat upon the dais. After a time, she vaguely registered that Nox was speaking to her. With great effort, she ripped her gaze away from the throne.

An easel and a worktable sat at the foot of the platform, the surface of the table crowded with charcoal sticks, brushes, small trowels, and paint pots of various colors.

“You inspired me with something you said your first night here,” Nox explained. “I’d like to paint a portrait of you.”

“Of me ?” she scoffed.

“Yes. A portrait of you,” he repeated, ascending the steps of the platform. “You are part of the Noble Family of Silvergard, and, as such, you deserve a place of honor, proudly displayed within the Estate.”

He stopped before the throne and motioned for her to join him.

“Besides, when you leave me and return to the ice and snow of Nivali, I’ll need something to remember you by.”

Nova dipped her head as a smile bloomed on her face, a smile that faded as she beheld the throne before her, even larger and more imposing up close.

Nox urged her to take a seat. Her lips parted wordlessly as an image of her grandfather seated on the same throne flashed in her mind, a vicious sneer splitting his stony jaw.

“This throne is your birthright,” Nox said, watching her expectantly. “Just take a seat.”

Nova took a reluctant step forward before turning and cautiously lowering herself into the seat. All the air flew from her chest, and a forceful rush of energy coursed through her body. Nova laughed nervously, half surprised she hadn’t been struck down by a bolt of lightning.

“Excellent,” Nox said, clapping his hands together once as he descended the steps and took his place behind the easel.

He proceeded to direct Nova as to how she should sit and the precise placement of her hands.

Once she was properly posed, he set to work sketching on the canvas with a bit of charcoal.

Sitting for a portrait was tedious and lasted several hours, though her muscles, fatigued from her increasingly intense training, were grateful to be resting.

Nox distracted her as best he could while he worked, sharing harmless gossip about happenings around the Court.

“Perhaps you could relax a bit,” he suggested at one point. “You’re looking a bit stiff.”

Dipping her chin, Nova realized she was gripping the arms of the throne, and her shoulders had crept up toward her ears. She rolled her neck and splayed her fingers wide before laying her hands back down upon the carved stone.

Just then, a servant entered the throne room, delivering a letter into Nox’s hands.

He turned it over once and stood, climbing the steps of the platform to pass the letter to her.

Immediately recognizing the insignia stamped in blue wax, Nova broke the seal and unfolded the parchment, smiling faintly as she read Callan’s latest message.

Her fingers grazed her chin, and her smile blossomed even wider on her face.

“Just like that,” Nox said suddenly, drawing her attention. “Don’t move a muscle.”

Nova was silent, keeping as still as possible while her uncle’s skilled hands flitted around the canvas.

After a few minutes had passed, she spoke. “Nox,” she began, anxiously tapping her ring against the arm of the throne. “May I ask you something?”

“Anything,” he replied distractedly, sweeping his paintbrush across the canvas like a conductor leading an orchestra. He bit his bottom lip as he worked. A smudge of ruby-red paint marred the fair skin of his cheek.

“How long have you known Lucan?” In the time she’d been in Silvergard, Nova had gathered that the connection between her uncle and his commander extended well beyond friendship.

“A hundred years or so, I suppose,” he said, glancing at her with a curious look.

“And how long have you been together?”

His hand halted. A look of apprehension flashed on his sharp features for an instant before he shook it off and let out a breathy laugh. His brush started moving again.

“A hundred years or so.”

“Is it meant to be a secret between the two of you? There are plenty of folk who enjoy others of the same gender at Court.”

Nox dropped his paintbrush into one of the little pots littering the tabletop and folded his hands in his lap.

“I suppose it’s a bit of an open secret,” he said. “My staff knows. The members of the Lunar Council know.” He paused, first tilting his head back to view the night sky through the glass ceiling, then dropping his gaze to the throne on which Nova sat.

“It’s a tricky thing when so much in this world is wrapped up in blood,” he sighed.

“To outsiders, my being with Lucan could signify weakness. The end of the Elsever bloodline. Some might seek to usurp me. The Elsevers weren’t always the keepers of the Lunar Throne; our ancestors took it by force to become Orika’s favored bloodline.

I’ve made too much progress for me to allow Silvergard to fall into the hands of another.

The safety and prosperity of my people is worth the price of my secret. ”

“Did you always know?” Nova asked timidly. “That it was love, I mean.”

One side of Nox’s mouth curled into a smile and he chuckled.

“At first, it was pure attraction. This undeniable pull. Like a riptide. Like I couldn’t have stayed away from him even it meant I’d drown.

As time went by, I realized it was much more.

I could tell him anything. He stood beside me.

Backed me fully in everything I did and encouraged me to strive for more.

Never in my life had I experienced such unwavering support.

In the beginning, that felt more terrifying than the prospect of drowning. ” He paused. “Why do you ask?”

Nova stared at the letter resting in her lap, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes at the thought of how she’d treated Callan.

How she’d pushed him away. She’d been treading water.

Fighting against the pull of the same relentless tide her uncle described.

Her heart and mind were weary with the struggle.

She longed to let go, to allow herself to be swept away by her feelings for Callan.

But she didn’t know how to surrender when there was a chance she could sink beneath the surface forever.

Nox’s brows fell, his lips forming a thin, sympathetic smile as he leaned forward around the easel.

“You deserve love, Nova.” His voice was kind but firm, as if issuing the formal decree of a Noble Lord. “If it has found you, let it in.”

The doors to the throne room swung open, the sudden sound startling them both.

Nova’s head snapped to the entryway to find Idrian striding purposefully into the room.

The general froze when he caught sight of her.

His eyes went wide for an instant, but Nova couldn’t read his expression.

He could have been enchanted or horrified.

“My Lord,” Idrian said, gathering himself and bowing his head to Nox. “I’ve come to inform you that I plan to depart for Stargrave tomorrow. You have been most generous these past weeks.”

“Safe travels, General. I’ve found our conversations to be very enlightening. I’m hopeful we can continue a positive relationship going forward.”

Idrian brought his feet together and made a formal bow. Once he rose, he nodded briefly in Nova’s direction, then turned on his heel and exited through the double doors without a backward glance.

Nova was unsettled by Idrian’s reaction to her seated on the throne. Had the sight finally brought her resemblance to her father into focus? Had he pieced together the truth about her connection to Nox? To Silvergard?

Seemingly unbothered by the interaction, Nox caught her attention and beckoned for her to join him. She stood slowly, muscles tight after sitting in one position for so long. She nearly gasped when she reached the easel and beheld Nox’s creation.

Nova had never seen a likeness of herself before.

Her uncle was an incredibly talented artist. Though unfinished, the portrait was remarkably lifelike and rich in detail, from the matte black of her hair to the ring of silver around her steel-gray irises.

What struck her most, however, was the expression on her face.

Nox had captured a genuine smile on her full lips, the warmth of it reaching all the way to her eyes.

“Is that truly what I look like?” she murmured, unnerved by the smile so unlike the stony mask she’d gone to such great pains to perfect over the years.

“Yes, my dear niece,” Nox replied. “You have a lovely smile, and I think we both know what coaxed it from you.”

Nova curled her fingers tightly around the parchment she still held in her hand. Her mind flickered to Callan and the evening they stood perched atop the stone wall surrounding the Pyralis Estate. To what he’d said about her smile as his tiger’s-eye gaze lingered on her.

It’s lovely. The world would be lucky to see more of it.