Page 48 of Sun, Moon & Shadow (Fate of Aemoria #1)

Nova’s head throbbed in time with her heartbeat. She reached her hand to her right temple, the source of the pain, but discovered she was shackled at the wrists. Her eyelids fluttered weakly before opening fully.

The ground beneath her was hard and damp, the ceiling above, rough-hewn stone.

Forcing several deep breaths through her nose, she rose slowly, pausing when her blood surged in her veins, briefly worsening the pressure in her skull.

She sat in a small cavern lit by a single torch fixed to the wall beside an opening that led out into darkness.

Another torch burned further down at the bend in a narrow tunnel.

A simple wooden stool sat against the far wall beside the entryway.

There was no door, though one was hardly necessary with her chained up.

Bending her arms, Nova examined her wrists. Only then did she register the searing pain there, the sensation previously eclipsed by the ache in her head. The skin beneath the shackles was raw and blistered. Iron cuffs, she gathered.

Once, when she was a child, she’d grabbed the handle of an iron skillet sitting on the worktop in the kitchen.

Her palm and fingers had been badly burned.

Agnes scolded her as she loosely wrapped a bandage around the scalded skin, warning Nova not to touch a pan straight out of the fire.

But Nova had read countless faerie stories that told of the Fae’s vulnerability to the dense metal.

She’d kept her distance entirely afterward.

A drop of liquid landed on her forearm, and she twisted her neck to inspect the ceiling. After a moment, she realized it was blood. Her blood. She pressed her fingertips to her temple, crimson coating them when she pulled her hand away. The iron was suppressing her ability to heal.

Nova lifted her hands once again, but they halted in midair before she could raise her arms above her head.

The cuffs were fixed to the stone floor with a length of chain secured by a thick pin hammered deep into the solid rock.

She shifted her position so she rested on her knees.

Clasping her hands together, she wrenched her arms upward several times.

It was no use. Her head swam with the effort, and she collapsed onto her back on the uneven floor.

Dragging deep breaths in through her nose, she battled the waves of nausea crashing down upon her, one after another.

As black dots began to dance at the edges of her vision, she thought suddenly of Idrian.

The terrified look on his face, illuminated in the ghostly glow of the moonstone, as he shouted for her to run.

She rolled onto her side and pushed herself up into a sitting position.

What had happened to him? Was he being held in another cell?

She rose up onto her knees again, the soiled train of her nightdress tangling around her ankles. Gripping a section of the gown near the hem where the thread had already started to come loose, she tugged hard, rending the seam and removing the excess fabric.

Nova groaned as she pulled against her restraints again, the iron rings cutting into tender skin.

She fell onto her backside with a grunt.

Holding her hands aloft, she kept the chain taut and kicked at it over and over.

The pin didn’t budge, and the chain held fast. Nova threw herself down flat and roared through clenched teeth, the sound bouncing off the walls of the small cavern.

Her chest heaved as the steady thud of boots sounded in the dark passageway outside her cell, growing louder as they neared. Nova sat upright and scrambled back as far as her restraints would allow. She hadn’t seen the faces of her captors, but she vividly recalled the pain they’d inflicted.

Finally, the footsteps drew close enough for her to hear the scrape of sand under leather soles.

A tall cloaked figure stepped through the darkened entryway and into the flickering torchlight.

The hood was pulled low, the face hidden.

The visitor’s movements were unhurried, almost casual, as they dragged the stool away from the wall and took a seat.

Nova reached deep within herself and slipped on her practiced mask of detachment, disguising the fear threatening to consume her entirely if she’d only let it.

She held her breath as the figure lowered the hood, revealing a crown of black hair.

A single streak of silver ran like a bolt of lightning through the inky strands.

Nova pressed her lips together.

Idrian. Her friend.

Nothing about his appearance had changed, but his manner was wholly different. The slate-gray eyes, once so open and seemingly sincere, sat narrowed and calculating beneath his full brows. His lips curled up on one side in a cruel sneer.

“Don’t look at me like that, Mouse,” he mocked, clicking his tongue at her. “I told you I enjoy defying expectations.”

“I trusted you.”

“Yes, and it was quite foolish of you, wasn’t it? Though I can’t say I expected much from a vapid female who spends her time lounging about in fancy gowns and reading all day.” His nose crinkled, as if he found her very existence repulsive.

“You deceitful prick,” Nova spat. “Your toast to Nox—it was all lies.” Tears stung her eyes at his betrayal. At her stupidity for trusting him even as her body repeatedly tried to warn her something wasn’t right.

“You’ve got quite a mouth on you. And I never lied to anyone.

” He lifted his chin proudly. “Silvergard is no longer what it once was. It was once a force to be reckoned with, a formidable power feared throughout the Realm. Now, thanks to that feckless uncle of yours, this once-mighty territory is a joke.”

Nova flinched at the word uncle .

“That’s right,” Idrian said, chuckling low in his throat. “I knew Omen’s heir had arrived at the Estate. Though, even if I hadn’t, one look at you would have given it away. The two of you thought you were so clever, skirting the truth. But you’re the spitting image of your father.”

Nova didn’t respond right away. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from losing the sliver of composure to which she desperately clung.

“Why the charade? Why pretend to rescue me when all along you were abducting me?”

“Honestly, it was such fun deceiving you. Seeing how far I could go. Wondering if you’d ever catch on.

Certainly, I’m biased, but I’d say my performance was damn near perfect.

Who knows, I might have made a good actor if I believed any of Nox’s ‘art over conquest, creation over destruction’ horseshit. ”

Idrian dragged a hand through his hair, preening like a cat taming its fur. Nova’s resolve flared. She’d be damned if she let this arrogant ass see the fear and dread crackling just below the surface of her skin.

“What’s your plan, then?” she asked dryly, her mask righted after her brief slip. “Am I to remain chained to the floor until I rot? Surely you have something more grandiose planned for me.”

“I do,” he said, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. “You’re my key to the throne.”

When Nova showed no reaction, Idrian leaned back against the rock wall, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing his boots at the ankles. She swallowed a groan, realizing he was readying himself for a speech.

“I grew up poor in Stargrave,” he began, his face tilted toward the low ceiling.

“My father was a low-level soldier and a piss-poor one at that. He wasted what little wages he earned on drink and female company, never aspiring to be anything more than he was. He disgusted me. We had little food in those days, but my mother fed me a steady diet of stories about the once-noble blood flowing through my veins—a noble bloodline overthrown by your ancestors nearly two thousand years ago.”

She supposed that explained his interest in the ancestry records stored in the hidden wing of the library.

“As I grew older, I vowed I would be nothing like my father. I would aspire to greatness, to be worthy of the throne stolen from me long before I was born. Everything I have, I've earned through struggle. My rank. My reputation. You can’t imagine what a slap in the face it was to see the future of Silvergard laid at Nox’s feet, only for him to piss on it. ”

Idrian leaned forward again. Nova nearly flinched at the abruptness of the movement.

“Your uncle is a spoiled, fucking brat,” he spat, jabbing a finger at her. “He’s not worthy to sit upon the Lunar Throne. And neither are you. When I saw you upon the dais, it took every shred of my self-control not to end your life that very moment.”

He paused briefly to compose himself, wiping a drop of spit from his chin with the back of his hand.

“But I made a bargain, and I must honor the terms of the agreement. I’ve always dreamt of taking back what is rightfully mine.

But, for reasons that are lost on me, Nox is beloved by the folk of Silvergard.

I never could have amassed the support I needed to carry out my plans.

That is, until your father presented me with an offer that was simply too good to pass up.

A simple exchange, really: your life for the backing I need to retake the territory. ”

Her mother’s voice rang out in her head.

If he discovers you in Aemoria, discovers who you are, I won’t be able to protect you.

“What does my father want with me?” Nova asked, barely able to keep her voice from trembling.

“Nothing,” Idrian said matter-of-factly. “Make no mistake, your father wishes you dead. And while he may not be able to dispatch you with his own hand, he certainly means to watch.”

A sinewy soldier with close-cropped white hair entered the room, passing a rolled bit of parchment into Idrian’s hand.

“From one of his birds,” the soldier muttered, shooting a hateful glance in her direction.

His nose was swollen and slightly crooked, the bridge flecked with remnants of dried blood.

Fresh bruises purpled the pale skin around his eyes.

Nova realized she was responsible for the injury.

She held his rage-filled stare for a moment before dropping her eyes, taking note of the ring of keys dangling from his belt.

Nova recoiled as Idrian jumped up from his seat, unleashing a vicious snarl. He kicked the stool, launching it across the cell where it crashed against the far wall.

“The bastard is either too weak or too paranoid to leave his Estate. He won’t be meeting us here as planned,” he informed his lackey, crumpling the message and casting it aside.

Idrian spun to face Nova. Inky strands of black hair hung loose over his forehead, his gray eyes gleaming like white-hot coals.

Lowering his lids for an instant, he calmly ran both hands through his hair, taming it once more.

When he looked at her again, it was as if his outburst had never happened.

Nova found his ability to shift so rapidly from seething rage to eerie stillness deeply unsettling.

“I suggest you get some rest, Nova Elsever. We depart for Raven’s Isle at dusk.”

Idrian left, disappearing into the dimly lit tunnel. The light-haired soldier glared at her for a moment before he followed the general. Nova waited for the echo of their footsteps to fade. Finally, she released the breath she’d been holding; hot tears followed close behind.

She threw herself down flat on her back, striking the stone floor with her shackled hands. How could she have been so stupid? Nox, Lucan, Isla, all the folk of the Lunar Court—her Court—were in grave danger, all thanks to her foolishness.

She pressed her palms against her eyes and saw Callan’s face in the sea of glittering blackness, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

She cursed herself for all the times she’d pushed him away and denied their connection.

The times she’d allowed him to believe he was unworthy when, in truth, it was she who felt undeserving.

Her regret sat like a stone on her chest, making it difficult to catch her breath.

Had she lived long enough to join her life with another’s—and she now wished desperately to have had the chance—she could think of no one more perfectly suited for her than Callan Nyhauslen.

She’d been handed a death sentence and would never be able to tell him how she truly felt.

To tell him what his kindness had meant to her. That she was falling in love with him.

Nova rolled onto her side on the chill, damp ground.

She fought to hold back her tears, and an uncomfortable heaviness grew within her chest until she could have sworn she felt her rib cage crack.

Tears spilled forth then, soaking her cheeks as she wept for the life she’d wasted and all that would never be.

She wept until her tears ran dry, then smeared the tracks staining her cheeks with grimy fingers.

Unmoving, she lay there in the silence. As seconds dragged into minutes, minutes into hours, a hollow sensation spread slowly from the center of her chest, creeping along her spine and down her limbs, until she could feel nothing.

Until she was nothing. Dreamily, she wondered whether the numbness stemmed from the iron or her despair.

Nova curled her knees to her chest, eyelids growing heavy as she watched the dancing flame of the torchlight.

As exhaustion and the effects of the iron overtook her, she imagined she felt the warmth of a body nestled against her back.

The comforting weight of an arm wrapped around her waist. It was only a hallucination, she knew, but she could have sworn she heard Callan’s voice, murmuring softly in her ear.