Page 61 of Sun, Moon & Shadow (Fate of Aemoria #1)

Nova drifted about in a haze, her senses and affect dulled by weariness, oppressive and bone-deep.

While their small band of warriors emerged from the skirmish with only two casualties, both from Arik’s squadron, the rebel Silvergardian forces had fared far worse.

She insisted upon honoring all of the fallen, working alongside the survivors to gather the dead, and commemorating them with a funeral pyre along the shore.

All but Idrian.

“What would you have us do with his body?” Callan asked soberly.

Nova’s rage flared anew, and she forced her response through clenched teeth. “Leave him out for the crows.”

Callan made no attempt to dissuade her, squeezing her forearm reassuringly before turning to Lucan and jerking his chin in the direction of Idrian’s tent.

Nova limped through the somber crowd to a quiet spot at the water’s edge.

Thick gray smoke billowed up from the pyre, joining with the mist rising off the surface of the sea and carrying the souls of the dead to the After Realm.

She pressed a palm to her abdomen. The wound had clotted, but the sting remained.

She held her hands out before her, fingers trembling slightly and covered in dried blood.

A mixture of Idrian’s and her own. She spied Lucan and Callan emerging from Idrian’s tent, carrying the general’s corpse between them.

Had she smiled when she twisted the blade?

Her legs began to shake beneath her. Nova conjured the moment in her mind, pictured her lips first curling into a faint smile, then splitting in a wide grin, like that of a madwoman.

The same wild expression her father wore as he hovered over her in her nightmare.

She spun to face the sea, eyes shut tight, inhaling through her nose and exhaling through her mouth.

After several minutes, she opened her eyes again and looked out over the Gloaming Sea toward Raven’s Isle, the Shadow Court lurking in the distance, invisible through the fog.

Nova flinched at the weight of a hand on her shoulder, twisting to find Fawn and Evander behind her.

“I’m afraid we must be leaving,” Fawn said, tilting her head apologetically. “With any luck, no one in Pyralis will have noticed we were gone.”

Nova scanned her friend’s face. The weak smile and drawn features.

The faint, dark circles hanging like crescent moons beneath her large brown eyes.

Fawn pulled her into an embrace, and Nova registered how loosely her friend’s slender arms wrapped around her shoulders.

Fawn had overexerted herself; she needed to return home to recover.

Fresh shame sent heat creeping along Nova’s limbs.

An apology caught in her throat. But she was certain that if she tried to give it voice, the full volume of her emotions would rush out alongside it like a raging flood. So she swallowed it down instead.

Fawn released her and produced a small glass bottle from within her corset top.

Removing the cork stopper, she poured a substance resembling ash into her hand.

Nova watched as Fawn blew a breath along her palm.

The sea breeze caught the fine gray powder, and it swirled and gathered, revealing a portal where nothing had been an instant before.

On the other side, a sea of vibrant sunset-colored leaves danced in the wind, the Autumn Court suddenly as close as an adjoining room.

“We’ll speak soon,” Fawn said, taking hold of Nova’s hand. She squeezed once and arched a fine brow. “Perhaps then you’ll tell me what’s really been going on.”

Nova nodded and squeezed Fawn’s hand once in response.

Uncharacteristically quiet, Evander made no farewell of his own apart from a casual lift of his brows in Nova’s direction.

With the utmost care, he took Fawn by the elbow and supported his sister as the two of them crossed the threshold into Pyralis.

The portal twisted and collapsed in on itself once they passed through.

Nova slumped down to sit in the sand, forearms resting on her bent knees.

She stared out at the sea, listening to the rhythmic crash of the surf and pressing her tongue repeatedly to her split lip, determined to make herself feel the pain for as long as it lasted.

Her wounds were superficial and would heal quickly, likely leaving no trace of a scar.

Her sense of self would be another story entirely.

She’d lost track of how long she’d been sitting there, the waves tallying the passage of time, when Callan crouched beside her and murmured that it was time to depart.

Lucan divided the Silvergardian archers equally, tasking each group with boarding the two remaining ships and accompanying the reformed rebel forces back to the Estate by sea.

Nova mounted Shade, the horse anxious and jumpy beneath her, perhaps feeding off of her own unease.

She twisted the reins in her hands as their party galloped south, clinging to the sting along the slash on her abdomen before it faded completely.

Despite the warm welcome that greeted Nova upon her return to the Estate, the cheers and deferential bows as she passed through the courtyard and dismounted, shame continued to weigh her down like a sodden cloak.

Shame sent her to her chamber, where she remained hidden away for several days.

She lay in bed with the sheets thrown over her head, unable to face anyone, especially Nox.

He had warned her of the dangers. Blinded by her desire for vengeance, she’d refused to listen.

Eventually, her uncle sought her out, the mattress dipping as he sat on the edge of the bed beside her.

Reluctantly, she tugged the sheet down to meet Nox’s eyes.

“Lucan showed me how you spoke to the soldiers. How they responded to you.” He fished for her hand, grasping it tightly. “I’m so proud of you.”

Her weak smile didn’t fool him.

“What’s the matter?”

Nova spun her ring on her finger, rubbing her thumb over the milky white stone.

“I feel bad—no. Wrong. Not for ending his life.” Nova knew she would never be able to muster a shred of regret for what she’d done, though, admittedly her complete lack of remorse was disconcerting.

“For not burning him. Denying him passage to the After Realm. It feels cruel. Like something my father might have done.”

Nox sighed, nudging her with his knee. She shifted to the center of the bed, making room for him to lie beside her, their eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“Lunar folk don’t view darkness as something inherently wrong.

Orika is neither good nor evil. She’s a complex deity who enjoys mischief and upheaval.

A dash of chaos now and again.” Nox turned his face to her, but she kept looking straight ahead.

“It’s within your power to decide who you become—not your father’s, not mine, not anyone else’s. ”

Nox curled his fingers under her chin, gently guiding her to look at him.

“You shine so brilliantly,” he said, his pride evident in his charcoal eyes. “But remember, my dear niece, even when the moon is at her brightest, there remains a side of her forever cloaked in shadow.”

Nox remained with her for a time, speaking softly about his dreams for the future of the Lunar Court, seemingly intuiting that she wasn’t interested in speaking much herself. When he left a short while later, she felt lighter somehow and opted to keep her head out from under the covers.

It wasn’t long before her thoughts drifted to Callan, who occupied his own chamber down the hall.

Nova had apologized to him, but her words felt deficient.

Hollow. Pure luck had prevented her from being affected by Idrian’s ability.

True, her quick thinking had kept her and Callan alive and ended the immediate threat Idrian posed to them, to Silvergard, and to the Realm at large.

Still, she couldn’t escape the feeling that it was a sham when her recklessness had placed them in the situation to begin with.

A swell of emotion filled her chest at the thought of Callan.

He had respected her desire to be alone, but she sensed his heart’s desperate call to her own, beckoning her to his side.

Unable to withstand it any longer, Nova threw back the sheets and slid out of bed, hurrying out the door and down the hall to Callan’s chamber before she could convince herself to stop.

The Estate was hushed, with the majority of the residents having retired to their chambers for sleep. But she knew she would find Callan awake. That his mind, like hers, had not known rest since they’d returned. She knocked softly on the door and held her breath when he invited her in.

Barefoot and clad only in a pair of black breeches, he sat slouched on the low sofa, his dark hair loose, the ends grazing his shoulders.

The sight of his large, solid form seated on the elegant furniture was almost comical, and a smile crept unexpectedly across her face.

Relief flooded Callan’s features, his brow relaxing and the tension in his upper body easing in a heartbeat.

His mouth quirked up in a smile, a faint dimple flashing on his cheek as he held out a hand to her.

Nova rushed to where he sat, climbing into his lap and tugging at her nightgown to make room for her knees on either side of his long thighs.

Wrapping his arms tightly around her torso, he pressed his face against her chest and breathed her in before resting his cheek flat against the space between her breasts.

She buried her fingers in his hair and rested her chin on top of his head, exhaling as she melted into him.

He was the only answer to a question her soul would never cease asking.

“Your heart’s racing,” he murmured, skimming his hands over her lower back.