Page 14 of Sun, Moon & Shadow

“It felt so real, I believed myself awake. But I couldn’t move, and then, I saw a dark figure in the room, watching me.” Nova shivered at the vivid memory.

She looked sideways at Callan, whose brows were drawn together.

“Cousin, tell me again about how you ushered Nova across the Boundary.” Evander’s tone was playful but noticeably sharp as he chimed in from where he lounged in his seat. “I especially love the part where you abandoned her to fend for herself against a bloodthirsty lycane mere moments after she took on her Fae form.”

Nova’s eyes flicked between the two males. Callan’s expression was icy. A muscle in his cheek ticked as he clenched and unclenched his jaw.

“Actually, I would like to hear the story,” she said, hoping to ease the sudden tension between the two males. She turned to face Callan. “From the time we crossed the Boundary, I have only flashes of memory.”

Callan’s cold gaze lingered on Evander for a beat. When he turned his attention to her, his expression thawed a degree, a faint warmth returning to his eyes.

“Perhaps another time, Nova. I must be going, if you’ll excuse me.” He stood at once, donning a thin smile, and made a quick bow before striding out of the library.

Eight

Brisk air washed over Callan as he burst out onto the high stone rampart surrounding the Pyralis Estate, the cold bracing him and tempering his anger marginally. Sentries stood posted at intervals along the wide walkway. All kept their distance, shrinking back and lowering their heads as he rushed past.

At last, he stopped inside an empty turret and rested his elbows on the half wall. Kicking the toe of his boot against the cold gray stone, he surveyed the sea of red, orange, and gold leaves of the surrounding forest.

It was a relief to escape the library. Confined in the space, he’d felt simultaneously energized and drained. Energized at seeing Nova safe and healed. Drained from keeping up the pretense that he wasn’t keenly aware of her every movement.

Her soft bottom lip pressed against the rim of the porcelain teacup.

The way she self-consciously touched her ears three times.

The thrum of her pulse at her fair throat.

He’d forced himself to face the window to avoid openly staring. It felt as if he’d been enchanted.

What game was Evander playing? Callan was used to Evander’s expert needling and had often watched him wielding it as a weapon against romantic rivals. But he’d never before found himself on the receiving end of it. He flexed his jaw, thinking of how his cousin had behaved toward Nova. Testing the limits of how she would allow him to speak to her. Whether or not she would allow him to touch her.

She didn’t pull away from his touch.

Callan fumed, his anger reigniting as he recalled Evander’s mocking tone. He hadn’t abandoned Nova. He’d defied every fiber of his intuition when he left her alone. He imagined pummeling Evander and sending him crying to his mother as he often had when they were younglings. The thought improved his mood considerably.

The sun had begun its slow descent toward the horizon. Callan scanned the shadows forming at the edge of the forest, the gathering darkness reminding him of Nova’s midnight hair. He had no doubt she was descended from Sonnend. There was no other explanation for how rapidly her wounds had healed. But she bore no resemblance to the golden-haired Fae of the Solar Court he knew.

With her silvery eyes and fair skin, Nova looked quite the opposite, as if she were directly descended from Silvergard. But if that were the case, why had no one thought to tell him? Though he was not aware of any imminent conflicts, relations between the Lunar Court and the other territories had always been tenuous. Strained, at best. At present, they were practically nonexistent.

Callan groaned through his teeth. Why should he care where she came from? His assignment was simple: locate Nova Greenmore and return her safely to Pyralis. He’d done that. So why was he sulking in an empty turret, thinking about her hair and her eyes, and trying to invent any excuse to see her again?

He rubbed his forehead with both hands then dragged his fingers down his face, his head coming to rest wearily in his hands. It had been several days since he’d gotten any restful sleep. Longer if he counted his time on the road, bedding down behind hedgerows when there wasn’t a room available at the inn of whatever hamlet he found himself in as night approached.

Callan resolved to take his evening meal in his chamber and turn in early for a full night’s rest. Perhaps sleep and some distance from Nova was what he needed to get his head on straight. He planned to speak with Evander in the morning and knew it would be wise to be clearheaded if he hoped to get answers to any of his lingering questions. Although Fae couldn’t lie outright, they were certainly capable of deception, and Evander could deceive with the best of them.

Rising at his usual time the following morning, Callan quickly dressed in a fresh tunic and breeches and pulled on the boots he’d buffed to a shine the night before. Surprisingly, Evander had already eaten and left for the Great Hall. It seemed he was truly honoring his mother’s request to oversee preparations for the upcoming Hayer celebration in her absence. Normally, nothing short of an act of the gods would pull Evander from his bed before midday.

The long carpeted halls of the Estate were mostly empty, with the exception of servants going about their morning duties. Callan knocked on the massive wooden double doors leading to the Great Hall, and Evander’s voice called out for him to enter. The large, open space was lit by the morning sun pouring in through the tall windows lining the far wall.

Evander sat on his father’s gilded throne upon the dais before the wall of windows. He was alone except for a Fae commoner, a brewer by the looks of it. The male stood beside the throne, a tray with several glass steins containing a selection of amber ales balanced on his burly arm. The brewer cocked his horned head in Callan’s direction as his footsteps approached the platform.

“Have you got a minute?” Callan asked his cousin, making a slight bow of greeting.

“For you? Of course.” Evander waved the brewer away. “I’ll send word of how many barrels we’ll need.”

Once they were alone, Evander rearranged himself, sitting up a bit straighter on his father’s throne but casually resting an ankle on the knee of his opposite leg.

“What can I do for you?” He grinned broadly, clearly taking pleasure in playing the role of Noble Lord of the Autumn Court while his father was away.