Page 31 of Sun, Moon & Shadow

With great difficulty, Nova managed to swallow. When she spoke, her voice was barely louder than a whisper, a rasp of raw emotion, like gravel raking over the back of her throat.

“My father—” She cleared her throat and tried once more, stumbling over the words she had never spoken aloud. “My father took his own life.”

There had been no note. No explanation. No final goodbye or last words of affection. Only the cloying scent of poison lingering in the air and an empty glass vial clasped in his cold, rigid fingers. A vial she had pried loose and discarded before the physician arrived and pronounced his death a natural one.

Callan said nothing. Nova turned away, hiding her face from him and hastily brushing away a single hot tear, the evidence of her shame. She had never blamed her father. Only herself. Her desire to escape her life had consumed her for many years. It had blinded her to the fact that he sought an escape of his own.

She felt Callan close beside her an instant before the familiar, crisp scent of him surrounded her. He held out his hand, and Nova glanced from his rough palm to his face. The hallway was empty apart from the two of them, the muted notes of a ballad meandering down the corridor.

“Dance with me.” His voice was low and commanding.

“I’m a terrible dancer,” she murmured. “You could find a much better partner back in the hall.”

“Nova.” He shook his head. “I’m choosing you.”

Her breath caught, and her hand found his before she could overthink the decision. Callan pulled her close, their bodies not quite touching, separated by a breath of air between them. Nova longed to close the small distance, to press herself so tightly against him that discerning where she ended and he began would be an impossible task. She swallowed her longing, looking up to meet the gold-flecked gaze of the male so skilled at seeing past her mask.

Callan smiled, a dimple forming on his cheek, and began to lead her in slow circles around the fine runner lining the wide corridor. His hold on her was firm but gentle as the tempo gradually increased.

A tiny voice spoke in Nova’s ear, whispering from a hidden place deep within her. It called her foolish and tried desperately to remind her she’d done this once before. To remind her how things had turned out the first time. Closing her eyes, she buried the voice for the moment. Her head fell back as Callan supported her in his arms, and for the brief length of a dance, she was happy.

Sixteen

Callan stood before Nova’s chamber door, attempting to bid her good night. Their dance had been too short; his hands lingered on her when the song trailed off into muffled cheers and applause down the hall. Callan knew better. He knew what being so close to her would do to him, but his good sense did nothing to stop him. He knew the pain of losing a parent, hated that he couldn’t take the pain away from her. But helping her forget for a moment or two? That was a service he could provide.

The silence hanging in the air between them began to feel heavy. Callan cleared his throat to speak, but a messenger owl sailed over their heads, dropping a letter to the floor between their feet. Nova’s name was looped across the front in formal script. She snatched up the folded parchment, running her fingertips over the cream-colored paper.

“Secret admirer?” Callan asked as he watched her turn the letter over in her hands, noting the seal of pearly, white wax, stamped with a symbol of a six-pointed star. Nova slid a finger beneath the flap, breaking the seal. Callan averted his eyes as she silently read the message. When she finished, she gripped his arm, pulling him into her room and down onto a chaise beside her before pushing the parchment into his hands.

The writer, a Sister Iris from the Temple of Illora, claimed to have information about Nova’s mother and invited her to visit in one week’s time to speak in person. The letter itself would serve as an invitation, granting Nova access to the temple. Insisting on secrecy, the Sister requested that Nova tell no one.

“Where is the temple? Is it nearby? Surely, I have to go.” The words tumbled from Nova’s lips, falling on top of one another.

Callan was not so easily convinced. He turned the paper over and back and held it up to the light, bringing it closer to his face and squinting. The seal appeared legitimate. There was no evidence of a charm or enchantment concealed on the parchment, though any correspondence laced with dark magic wouldn’t have been able to breach the Estate’s shield.

“The Temple of Illora sits on an island off the western coast of Silvergard,” he said, handing the letter back to her. She scanned the text again, as if it might somehow contain more information the second time.

Callan’s mind whirred, assessing the situation for potential threats or trickery. He suspected Nova was connected to the Lunar Court. Perhaps the letter was part of a ploy to entice her across the border into Silvergard. Still, it was unlikely a sister from the temple would be involved in such a scheme. Though close to the Lunar Court, the temple housed an autonomous Sisterhood, not bound to the territory in any way.

“Please, take me, Callan.” Nova’s voice was an urgent plea, her slender fingers clutching his forearm.

Callan tensed at her words, desperate to hear her speak them again under entirely different circumstances. He wanted to agree immediately, but forced himself to consider for a moment longer before giving his answer. Leaving Pyralis to accompany her on the journey would undoubtedly complicate things for him, but he would never entrust her safety to anyone else.

“I will,” he said finally. “I’ll make the arrangements and bring you there myself.”

“When will we leave? How long is the journey?”

“I promise to get you there in time for the meeting. It will be safer to travel to Nivali first, then sail up the coast to the Isle of Illora. But, before we go, I must speak with Lady Estrid.”

Nova stood at once. “Should we return to the Great Hall to find her?”

“No, you should rest. It’s better if I speak with her alone. The message said to tell no one of your plans, though Her Grace likely wouldn’t approve of you traveling to Illora even if I could tell her.”

“I’m fairly certain she wants me as a daughter-in-law,” Nova said blandly.

“She said as much?” Jealousy flooded his chest, a prickly heat creeping up his neck.

“She told me I’ve caught Evander’s eye. Not that he has been discreet.” She shrugged as she crossed to the door, the gesture devoid of emotion. Callan rose from his seat and followed.