Page 26 of Sun, Moon & Shadow

His mate, Luna, bore three sons: Sable, Omen, and Nox. Luna once petitioned the Aemorian Council to strip Onyx of his title and punish him for violence committed against his family and his subjects. The Council ultimately denied the petition, and Onyx continued his rule unfettered. Afterward, relations between the Lunar Court and the rest of Aemoria deteriorated until there was scarcely any interaction between them with the exception of trade.

The text told, more or less, the same tale of the formation of Raven’s Isle as the one Callan had shared with her. She suspected so little was known about what truly happened when Omen assassinated his father and brother, that the accepted story was more legend than fact. The book provided no further information about the Shadowbringer.

Nova tilted her head back, staring at the fiery mural on the ceiling while she fiddled nervously with her mother’s ring. Sitting up after a moment, she grumbled softly, disappointed her search hadn’t yielded any useful information. Closing the book with a soft thud, she placed it on the desk where she’d found it and returned to her chamber, her mind weary.

Thirteen

Fawn barged through the door like a battering ram on the morning of Hayer, humming gleefully as she tore open the heavy drapes.

“Good morning, sunbeam!” Fawn drummed her hands excitedly on the bed beside Nova, her voice an animated sing-song and entirely too loud for the hour. Nova threw an arm across her eyes to shield them against the bright light streaming through the window, announcing it was already midmorning.

“Did I miss breakfast?” she whimpered, her voice still hoarse with sleep.

A housemaid breezed through the doorway at that precise moment with a tray full of food, placing it on the foot of the bed.

“Clara, you are a gift from Embra herself!” Nova pushed herself up to sitting and dragged the tray across the coverlet toward her. The maid smiled and quickly left to see to her other duties, which Nova imagined must be numerous on such an important day as the harvest festival.

Fawn tempered her excitable energy a degree and plopped down with a bounce on the corner of the bed. Nova slathered a slice of warm bread with salted butter and sweet apricot jam. The butter had scarcely melted before she gobbled it up.

“I hope you’re rested because I planned a day of indulgence for us to prepare for Hayer. Now, finish your meal. I’ll be back to collect you in half an hour.” Fawn stood and bent forward, curling her arms in a hug around Nova’s neck before she left.

Nova pushed the tray away once she had finished, leaving only crumbs behind. She hauled herself out of bed, wincing as she raised her arms toward the ceiling in a deep stretch. She’d spent an hour training with Callan nearly every day for the past several weeks, and her muscles reminded her of her efforts.

She flexed her fingers, examining her knuckles. The cuts from her first day wielding a dagger had healed completely with no trace of any scars. Graduating to a wooden sword, she’d memorized the various positions for striking and blocking attacks, weaving the movements into a sequence she practiced for hours at a time until it started to become second nature to her. She had always approached her interests with an intense, unrelenting focus. Sword fighting, it seemed, was no exception. She was eager to get her hands on some real steel, but Callan insisted she wasn’t ready yet. A nick on the knuckle is one thing, he’d cautioned, but, healer or not, a severed limb is quite another.

Nova plucked her maroon velvet robe from the foot of the bed and slipped it gingerly over her shoulders. By the time she finished cleaning her teeth and washing her face, Fawn appeared in the doorway, her auburn hair piled in a messy knot atop her head.

“Are you ready yet?” she asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Nova tugged the sash of her robe snug around her waist and wrangled her own mess of hair into a twist at the nape of her neck.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose,” Nova said, following Fawn’s excited steps out into the hallway.

The Estate hummed with an energy that matched Fawn’s as they navigated the halls, preparations for Hayer fully underway. More staff than Nova had ever seen rushed around the residence. As they passed a row of tall windows, she peered out at the courtyard, bustling with activity. Vendors were making last-minute deliveries, unloading wooden casks of wine and ale from a horse-drawn wagon. Groundskeepers balanced on ladders hoisting banners of burnt sienna and gold, the colors of Pyralis, between the stone columns lining the Estate.

Nova followed her friend through a set of tall, carved wooden doors into a large bathing chamber. Fawn’s day of indulgence consisted of soaking in tubs of steaming water infused with scented oils while gossiping about the gentry who would be in attendance. A massage followed, and, by the end, Nova’s entire body felt supple and restored.

When they were through, Nova trailed dreamily behind Fawn on the way to her friend’s sizable chamber. A platter of cheese, bread, and fruit awaited them, along with a bottle of wine, sweet and dark, tasting of blackberries. They lounged in the sitting area, chatting while their hair dried. Fawn giggled cheerfully, giddy from the wine and her excitement about the celebration.

“Tell me more about Josef,” Nova prodded, taking a tiny sip from her glass.

“Well, he’s from a respectable family, going back thousands of years. He’s kind. Handsome.” Fawn listed these qualities with little enthusiasm. “But most importantly, he’s a poet.” With that, the fire in her eyes flared.

“A poet?” Nova was surprised a member of the gentry would take an interest in the arts. In the Human Realm, creatives earned very little coin.

“Yes—a good one. He’s been penning odes inspired by me for years now.” Fawn threw her head back on the arm of the chaise in rapture. Nova smiled at her friend’s playfulness. She wouldn’t have thought Fawn was susceptible to grand romantic gestures.

“Enough about me,” Fawn commanded, sitting up straight once more. “There will be many eligible males at the celebration tonight, Nova. You must dance with as many as you possibly can. Who knows, perhaps you’ll meet your match tonight. Or at least a potential lover.” She raised her eyebrows suggestively.

A vision of Callan the first time she’d seen him on the training field flashed in Nova’s mind. Wielding his sword, he’d looked at once both undeniably lethal and painfully beautiful, his shirt clinging to the firm lines of his body.

Fawn gasped, and Nova flinched, momentarily afraid her friend had somehow read her thoughts. Fawn leaned in close, fiery waves falling loose around her face.

“You have had a lover before, yes?” she asked, her voice an exaggerated whisper.

Nova stared at her hands in her lap, scratching her thumbnail along the stem of her glass. “Only one,” she admitted after a moment. Fawn bounced in her seat, nearly spilling her wine.

“Tell me everything,” she demanded, smoothing her robe as if readying herself for the tale.