Page 17 of Sun, Moon & Shadow

“Elowen, the goddess of birth and growth, bestowed shapeshifting on the Fae of Maedwen. The Tundarans’ ability to control water and conjure tempests comes from Brakos, the god of the sea and storms. Embra, the goddess of the hunt and harvest, granted fire wielding to Pyralis. And Orika, the goddess of change and influence, gifted Silvergard with the ability to read minds and influence thoughts and actions.”

Fawn had applauded theatrically when Nova finished.

Distracted by her thoughts, Nova nearly collided with a servant carrying a tray of food as she rounded a corner, but she managed to sidestep at the last second. She shot the servant an apologetic look and continued on without stopping.

As for Raven’s Isle, the isolated island territory off the northern coast of Silvergard? They hadn’t discussed the Shadow Court yet.

Nova knew her mother came from Sonnend, the Solar Court, and she had asked about her when she first arrived. Fawn and Evander’s mother, Lady Estrid, had known Elena when they were young. It was only Lady Estrid who could possibly provide information on her mother’s current whereabouts, but she was away in the nearby territory of Tundara. And so, Nova sought distraction, immersing herself fully in her studies, and waited.

The chair behind Fawn’s desk was empty when Nova reached the library. Instead, she found Callan seated in the armchair before the blazing hearth, a thick volume cradled in his large hands. He closed the book with a soft thud and stood when he saw her.

“Callan.” He had caught her off guard. His name on her lips sounded like an accusation. Although she’d barely seen him since the day she first awoke in Pyralis, he’d been in her thoughts more than she cared to admit, even if only to herself.

“It’s nice to see you again,” she said, scraping together her composure. Could he sense the quickening of her pulse at the sight of him? “Sorry to interrupt. What genre?” she asked, gesturing to the book now cradled under his arm.

He held it out so she could read the title: Compendium of the Beasts of Aemoria.

His lips curled up ever so slightly at the corners. “Be honest. You were expecting a treatise on military strategy.”

“Guilty,” she said. The enticing scent of him, like fresh snow, found its way to her from across the room.

“I’m not much of a reader. In truth, I was hoping to find you,” he said, his brows drawing together.

“Oh?” Her heart stuttered. “I’ve been practically living in here. Fawn usually hauls me in just after breakfast and doesn’t release me until dinnertime.”

But today Fawn hadn’t sent for her. Nova had slept in until midmorning then spent several hours reading in bed. Finally, she decided to dress and seek out her friend in the library, assuming Fawn, too, must have gotten distracted.

“She can be a bit of a tyrant,” Callan said conspiratorially.

“I’m a willing prisoner,” she confessed. Despite Nova’s customary resistance, the heiress of Pyralis had beaten past her defenses through sheer persistence and wedged herself into a budding friendship. Admittedly, Fawn had been a welcome comfort to her since her arrival in Aemoria.

“If you’d like to escape your cell for a bit, I could show you around the Estate.” There was a brief flash of what looked like hesitation in his eyes, and she wondered whether he truly wished for her to accept his invitation.

“That sounds lovely.” She was eager to see more of the sprawling, palatial estate she’d been calling home for more than a week.

“My pleasure.” Callan set the book down and motioned for her to go ahead of him.

Before she knew it, nearly two hours had passed, and Nova found herself walking side by side with Callan through the Estate’s courtyard, which featured several small ponds and fountains. An ancient white oak grew in the center, its bright orange leaves fluttering in the breeze like flickering flames. Nova imagined it would take at least three of her with arms outstretched to encircle its trunk.

She and Callan had passed the time, more or less, in companionable silence, which seemed to suit both of them fine. Several times when she’d risked a glance in his direction, she’d found his eyes already on her, flicking away immediately.

Vendors from the surrounding districts filled the courtyard, having come to trade with the common Fae who dwelt within the compound protected behind the high stone walls. Stalls crowded the open-air market, vendors selling everything from fabric and buttons to wine and ale. Nova closed her eyes, appreciating the pleasant hum of the crowd. It was deceptively similar to the bustling markets of downtown Timberfell, except for the variety of winged and horned residents and the wide selection of magical wares for sale. Nova browsed a tabletop laden with stones of various colors, the seller explaining the specific purpose of each: A shimmering gray stone for finding lost things. A polished amber stone for seeing loved ones over great distances.

She had only ventured out of the residential wing once since her arrival, when Fawn brought her to the seamstress to commission several gowns of her own. The sprightly female was a good deal shorter than Nova, with shining green eyes and a pair of incandescent, gossamer wings poking through the back of her own finely made dress.

She’d spent hours draping fabric samples over Nova’s shoulders as she stood before a full-length mirror while Fawn shouted her approval or disapproval from a comfortable seat in the corner. In the end, Nova commissioned four gowns, simple by Fae standards but more extravagant than anything she’d ever worn in the Human Realm. Fawn insisted on ordering several silk shifts and stays for her. Nova discreetly requested the seamstress fashion a pair of simple black breeches and two loose-fitting shirts for her as well.

Just in case.

Nova wore one of her new gowns as she navigated the maze of vendor booths with Callan walking beside her. The floor-length silk dress was a deep purple and hugged her hips before flaring out slightly at the bottom. The boned bodice accentuated her waist and amplified her bust, and the sheer straps hung off her pale shoulders. A lightweight charcoal cloak shielded her from the crisp autumn chill in the air. She glanced sideways at Callan, who wore no cloak, seemingly unbothered by the falling temperature.

“You’re not from Pyralis, are you?” she asked, gesturing to his clothing as she pulled her cloak tighter around her against the wind.

It wasn’t merely his lack of outerwear that led her to believe he hailed from somewhere else. Callan’s dress was practical—infinitely more utilitarian than the ruffled, beaded, and embroidered finery favored by the Pyralisins.

“No. Like you, I’m a guest here.”

She began to climb a stone staircase leading to a covered parapet walk overlooking the courtyard on one side and the autumn forest on the other. Callan hesitated for a beat before following. When she reached the top of the wall, a sentry blocked her path, his palm held out in front of him.