Page 59 of Sun, Moon & Shadow (Fate of Aemoria #1)

Nova panted raggedly as she scanned the interior of the tent, swiping her free hand over her brow.

Her parched throat fought her attempt to swallow.

A rustle came from the far corner, and she slipped behind the changing screen.

As she peeked through a crack in the screen, Idrian burst through a curtain opposite her position.

He rushed about, dressed only in breeches and a baggy shirt, the hem hanging loose from his waistband.

Droplets cast off from his hair as he hurried past her hiding place, presumably to investigate the noise.

He must have been bathing when the roar of Fawn’s diversion first thundered through the camp.

“What the fuck is going on?” he muttered as he came back into view, crossing to the bed.

Nova crept out from behind the screen, slinking up behind him.

Idrian’s broad back was to her as he bent forward to pull on a boot.

Nova stood a sword’s length away, her arm outstretched, when she noticed a sheath leaning against the side of the bed, just out of his reach.

Idrian rose to his full height and went for his weapon.

“Don’t move,” Nova commanded calmly as she pressed the tip of her blade to the back of his neck.

“Mouse?” he asked casually, though a hint of surprise clung to the edge of his voice. “Is that you?”

He turned his head slightly, trying to get a glimpse of her. She pressed her weapon forward, the bite of steel halting him immediately. He splayed his fingers wide at his sides, the gesture betraying the fear behind his mask.

“I said, don’t move.”

She should have struck already. She wanted him dead.

Yet, she’d never killed someone she knew before.

The lives she had taken were those of nameless soldiers standing between her and her survival or her revenge.

In the moment, the idea of killing someone she had once considered a friend, even someone like Idrian, made her hesitate.

Without warning, a Realm-shaking rumble reverberated through the camp, and the walls of the tent shuddered.

Fawn was calling upon her magic again. The noise coupled with the sensation took Nova by surprise.

For an instant, her head snapped in the direction of the shore.

Unlike her, Idrian didn’t hesitate.

Spinning to face her, he gripped the wrist of her sword arm and tugged her close to him.

Nova barely had time to register the attack before his opposite fist collided with her jaw.

Her hearing cut out, all sound around her deadening, as the impact sent her staggering backward into the table.

She braced herself on the edge with her free arm, barely able to hold herself up as stars danced across her field of vision, a high-pitched whine ringing in her ears.

She shook her head sharply, bringing Idrian into focus where he stood several steps away from her, his blade now in hand. He didn’t move to attack her, assuming an arrogant pose instead, one hand resting on his hip as he shot her a smug grin.

“Playing dress up, are we?” he mocked, raking his eyes over her sleek leather armor. “I must say, I prefer this over any of your fancy gowns.” He gestured up and down, his tongue flicking over his bottom lip as he leered at her.

Nova regained some of her balance, letting go of the table. She bent her knees slightly and raised her sword, readying herself to strike.

“What do you plan to do with that, Mouse?” Idrian shook his head and chuckled.

Rage surged through her at his dismissal.

She charged him with a downward strike. He blocked it easily with the flat edge of his sword, shoving his weight against hers and pushing her backward.

He threw his fist into her side, just below her ribs, and all the air rushed out of her.

Clutching her side, she took a staggering step toward him, trying to pin him with a thrust to his abdomen.

He was much faster than the guard she’d fought outside, and he quickly sidestepped the strike.

The momentum of her attack carried her forward, and she fell onto her stomach on the bed.

She rolled onto her back immediately. Idrian wasn’t advancing on her with any urgency, and she realized the fight was nothing more than a game to him.

He was enjoying it.

Enraged, she growled and came up onto her feet again, thrusting at him once more.

He hit her blade with his own, sending her arm flying out to her right, and quickly brought his blade back, slashing a straight line along her abdomen just below her navel.

She shot a glance down at the split leather.

The wound was superficial, but she felt the hot rush of blood.

Idrian laughed as he leaned his sword against the edge of the bed again. Before Nova could react, he delivered another blow to her face with his fist, striking her cheekbone. She fell back onto the bed, only vaguely aware of him removing her sword from her hand and tossing it aside.

Her vision blurred, and she battled the overwhelming urge to black out. Idrian’s face hovered above hers. He spoke, his voice muffled and faraway, as his fingers closed roughly around her neck.

“I told your father I would kill you in front of him, but I don’t know if I can help myself.” A cruel sneer split his jaw as he tightened his grip around her throat, cutting off her breath.

Nova bucked weakly underneath his weight.

One hand gripped his forearm while the other lashed out at his face, a blinding white light beginning to form at the edges of her vision.

All at once, Idrian removed his hand from her neck.

Lifting her off the bed, he crushed her against his chest with an elbow hooked tightly under her chin.

Still struggling for air, Nova almost didn’t hear the familiar voice ordering Idrian to unhand her.

“Release her, General, or I’ll split you open where you stand.”

Callan stood in the entryway, unmoving, his sword held out before him. His eyes, dark like the roiling sea under a stormy sky, were trained on the general, daring Idrian to make even the smallest of movements. Idrian sighed, and his posture relaxed.

“Drop your weapons.” Idrian’s voice was calm and even as he issued the command.

Nova nearly scoffed at his arrogance, but she stared in disbelief as Callan’s sword arm began to tremble, the veins in his neck bulging as he bit down forcefully. Slowly, Callan lowered the blade and held it out at his side before dropping it with a thud at his feet.