Page 11 of Sun, Moon & Shadow

“I’ve slept in the dirt more than I’ve slept in a bed for a fortnight. What do you expect?” Callan speared a sausage and focused his attention on his meal.

“Quite the appetite this morning.” Evander tossed a bit of bread into his mouth.

Callan rolled his eyes. “Any chance you wish to join me at the training field this morning?”

“Can’t, I’m afraid. I’m overseeing preparations for Hayer. I promised Mother I’d see to it while she’s away.”

The Noble Lord and Lady of Pyralis were visiting allies in nearby Tundara but were expected to return for the harvest celebration in a few weeks’ time.

“And an opportunity to shamelessly flirt with every eligible female at Court holds no sway over your decision at all, I’m sure.”

Evander grinned and shrugged a shoulder.

“Cal,” Fawn called out, leaning over the railing above. “She’s all cleaned up.”

Callan stood at once, practically knocking his chair to the floor.

“Get a hold of yourself,” Evander said, shaking his head, but Callan was already halfway up the stairs.

Quietly, he entered Nova’s chamber, pausing just inside the doorway. Fawn sat in the leather armchair near the fireplace.

“She’s asleep.” Fawn spoke without looking up from the thick book lying open in her lap. “She’s a bit warm, but she’ll live.”

Callan crossed the room and sat on a wooden chair with an embroidered cushion at the bedside. Fawn had done well. There wasn’t a trace of blood left on Nova. Her black hair was unbraided and lay in long waves on the pillow, framing her face. Her fair cheeks were flushed a pale shade of pink. Callan gathered frost in the palm of his hand and gently cupped the side of her face, flinching when she leaned into his touch and smiled in her sleep.

“She’s certainly got Solar blood with how fast she’s healing.” Fawn appeared at his side, and he quickly drew his hand away from Nova’s face. He stood, catching sight of Fawn’s knowing look.

Callan cleared his throat. “She doesn’t look like she’s from Sonnend.”

“Mother and Elena were friends when they were young. From what I heard, Elena was a gifted healer.”

Fawn snaked her arm around his shoulders and guided him toward the door. He turned his head to glance back at Nova, still asleep in the bed.

“She needs rest, Cal. If you need me, I’ll be in the library. For now, go swing your sword at something.”

He felt an odd sensation, as if something was coaxing him back to the bedside. But Fawn was right. Experience had taught him the surest way to quiet his mind was to drown out his thoughts on the training field. So, he pulled the door closed and went to gather his blades.

Seven

Nova struggled to open her eyes. Through half-closed lids, a blurry canopy of golden leaves took shape above her. She tried to sit up, realizing with a start that she was unable to move. Dread covered her like a thick blanket, heavy and suffocating. Forcing her eyes open wider, she scanned her periphery, searching for the source of the unpleasant sensation.

She was in bed, her head propped up on a pillow. A quick glance to the left and right revealed wooden walls hung with ornate tapestries. Woven landscapes of orange-hued forests and innocently grazing deer. The lavish chamber was unfamiliar, but she saw nothing to explain the unease blooming within her chest. Her gaze traveled slowly to the foot of the bed. Wispy threads of black mist flicked over the footboard like snakes’ tongues.

Nova opened her mouth to scream, but the sound caught in her throat. A flash of movement drew her attention beyond the edge of the bed to the far corner of the room. A swirling black mass loomed there, flickering in and out of focus. It had no defined shape and made no attempt to come closer, but Nova sensed the darkness was watching her.

All at once, she woke and regained the ability to move. She sat straight up in bed, chest heaving, skin prickling with sweat, fingers digging into the coverlet. She found herself sitting atop a wooden four-poster bed with thick velvet curtains tied at each corner with golden tassels. Leaves embroidered in gold thread fanned out across the canopy overhead. A low fire crackled pleasantly on the hearth of a gray stone fireplace. No menacing shadow figures to be found.

Fractured memories flashed in her mind. Her transformation. Falling from Frost and striking her head. The lycane. Her heartbeat quickened as she relived her struggle against the creature, recalling the sickening crunch of her bones under its forceful paws, its razor-sharp claws slicing through her flesh. It was as if all the air had been sucked out of the room, and, for a moment, she worried she might faint.

Sliding off the edge of the bed onto wobbly legs, she staggered to a gilded mirror hanging on the wall. Bracing her hips against the chest of drawers, she slipped the fabric of her silk nightdress off her left shoulder. In the reflection, four pearly lines, each one the width of her little finger, marred the otherwise immaculate plane of her back.

Scars.

Straightening to face the mirror, her hands flew to her scalp to check her other wound. She stilled as she registered the reflection staring back at her from within the mirror.

She almost didn’t recognize herself. Her hair was full and lush, the darkest shade of black she’d ever seen. Her fair skin glowed faintly, and the tips of her ears tapered into delicate points. Her irises were light gray and ringed in silver, her gaze now infinitely more piercing than it had been before. Hands trembling, Nova gingerly traced the lines of her new face.

She spun at the turn of the doorknob behind her. A young Fae female stood in the doorway, palms held out in front of her. Slightly shorter than Nova and fair-skinned, her fiery auburn hair was half up and intricately braided, displaying her own pointed ears. A fine ankle-length dress, maroon velvet with sheer sleeves embellished with beaded leaves, hugged her slender frame.