Page 1 of Sun, Moon & Shadow

One

Nova Greenmore stood hidden away in a prison of her own making: her two-story limestone cottage, located on the outskirts of Timberfell.

“Go away. Go away,” she murmured as she spied on her unwanted visitor through a narrow slit in the curtains.

She watched as Ryker glanced toward his carriage parked on the street at the end of the walkway, its door emblazoned with the Ramdon family crest. But he didn’t go away. Much to her dismay, he resumed his insistent knocking, rapping his gloved knuckles against the solid oak of her front door with renewed enthusiasm.

Nova pressed herself flat against the wall beside the second-story window, holding her breath as she continued watching him through the gap in the pleated fabric. Thank the gods Agnes was tending to the garden, too far away to hear.

Several agonizing minutes later, Ryker’s chest rose and fell in a visible huff. He spun on the heels of his shiny leather boots, his short cape twirling around his shoulders as he stormed down the stone walkway and disappeared into his waiting carriage. Nova released a hushed sigh of relief when the coach rounded the corner, finally out of sight.

She exited her chamber, rushing down the hallway, the sound of her low-heeled boots jarring in the quiet of the empty house. Stopping short, she paused before the door leading to her father’s chamber and reached her hand out slowly. The ornate metal knob felt cool against her palm. She hesitated for a breath before easing the door open a crack.

The heavy drapes were drawn, leaving the space dark and surprisingly cold for late summer. Like a tomb, she thought. Apart from a thick layer of dust coating every flat surface, the room was immaculate. Nova’s gaze fell upon the bed, and she flinched, tugging the door closed and hastening her steps toward the back staircase.

Nova reached the base of the stairs just as Agnes entered the kitchen. Her housekeeper smiled warmly, swiping a hand over wisps of golden hair hanging loose from her high bun. Ten years her senior, Agnes had come to work for the Greenmores when Nova was only six. She was the closest thing to family Nova had left in the world.

“Did I hear knocking?” Agnes asked, turning out the potatoes and onions she carried in her apron onto the wooden worktop. She wiped her hands on the smock clinging to the swell of her pregnant belly, her cheeks flushed a healthy pink from the exertion of digging in the soil.

“It was only Ryker Ramdon,” Nova replied blandly, leaning against the sideboard.

“And what did he have to say for himself?” Agnes raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing.” Nova looked down at her boots. “I didn’t answer the door.”

Agnes shook her head, clicking her tongue as she set to work rinsing the vegetables in a basin of water.

“I imagine he was hoping for an answer to his proposal.”

“Most likely,” Nova said, lazily dragging her forefinger through the thin layer of flour that dusted the worktop. “But it’s far too early in the day to entertain visitors.”

“Nova.” Agnes twisted to face her, a nagging finger held out in the space between them. “You could do a lot worse than Ryker Ramdon.”

Agnes turned back to the basin, resuming her task. Nova rolled her eyes.

If she were at all inclined to join her life with another’s—and she definitely was not—Nova knew she could do much better than Ryker Ramdon. He came from a well-to-do Timberfell family, but there was already an heir ahead of him set to inherit the family fortune. A union with Nova would give him control of her land and properties, which had passed to Nova upon her father’s death two years earlier.

“To him, I’m no different than those rare horses of his. I’d be nothing more than a broodmare to trot out whenever he feels like showing off.”

Nova had no desire to be possessed by such a man, kept as a unusual addition to his collection.

Agnes sprinkled some more flour on the worktop and began rolling out a ball of dough to form the crust of a savory meat pie. Taking up her wicker basket, Nova crossed to the door.

“It’s just not right. You living all alone in this big, empty house with nothing but ghosts and bad memories to keep you company.” Agnes shook her head with an exasperated sigh. “Where are you headed?”

“The Wood. I’m running low on supplies.”

“Watch yourself, and see that you return home in one piece—and on time! The babe is already hungry.” Agnes ran a hand over her stomach, resting the other on her lower back. “I can’t promise I won’t eat your supper as well as my own.”

Several hours later, Nova emerged from the Wood, the dense forest stretching along the western edge of the city. She’d lost herself foraging, wandering happily through the thick undergrowth. The late-afternoon sun beat down on her back, and her basket swung on her elbow, heavy with fresh cuts of willow bark and bundles of chamomile.

Like all children of Timberfell, Nova had grown up hearing cautionary tales about the ravenous, wild beasts and supernatural creatures believed to inhabit the Wood. Unlike other children, though, she’d spent the better part of her childhood exploring it without ever encountering any danger, and she considered the stories to be just that—stories.

As a child, she had been fixated on faerie tales, legends, and folklore. Her father indulged her interest, filling his library with collections of such tales, all of which Nova read countless times.

As she grew older, she took an interest in the books her mother had left behind, books on the medicinal uses of plants. Nova’s dedicated study of that topic led to her profession as a healer of sorts, which supplemented the rents she collected from her tenants. The women in town might gossip about her, but they still knocked on her back door for teas and tonics to ease the pain of their cycles or prevent them from falling pregnant.

Nova sifted through her haul with soil-coated fingers, suddenly halting her steps beside the crumbling rock wall that crept along the edge of the dirt cart road. She shot a glance over her shoulder, brushing loose strands of long black hair out of her face.