Page 32 of Sun, Moon & Shadow

“Try and sleep.” He stepped into the dimly lit hallway. “If I’m able to convince her of our plans, we’ll leave at first light.”

The festivities hadn’t dampened in the time since Callan had left with Nova. If anything, the celebration had grown more untamed. A large group of guests had begun a drinking competition, and those occupying the dance floor no longer followed prescribed steps, opting instead to twirl and stomp wildly around the room.

Callan spotted Evander swaying on the dance floor, his body pressed against a chestnut-haired female. Her head was thrown back in a hearty laugh, and Evander’s fingers grasped at her hips as they danced, their tempo much slower than the music. Callan clenched his jaw, grateful Nova was in her chamber, far from his cousin’s greedy hands.

Estrid lounged on her throne, her full cheeks flushed from the wine she swirled in her nearly empty goblet. She stood and raised a hand when Callan approached the platform, beckoning for him to join her. He found an unoccupied stool and carried it onto the dais, placing it beside her throne and taking a seat. She flopped back down, chuckling to herself before tipping her head back and swallowing the dregs of her wine.

“And where have you been?” she asked, slurring her words ever so slightly.

“Around.” Resting his elbows on his knees, he leaned toward her so she could hear him over the laughter and shouts filling the hall. “You know I prefer to avoid these affairs.”

“Oh, Callan. Don’t be so contrary,” she tutted, waving a hand in the air between them as if his sobriety might be catching.

“Where’s Uncle Rowan?” he asked, jerking his chin at the empty throne beside hers.

She pointed to the crowd gathered to watch the drinking competition. The bystanders parted, and he saw Lord Rowan was a top contender, downing an entire stein of ale in seconds and slamming it on the tabletop. Callan smirked as his uncle roared and embraced his subjects who cheered him on. Ale dripped from the ends of his ginger beard.

“You look so much like your father. Especially when you wear your hair like that,” Estrid said, smiling faintly and running her fingers along one of his braids. Her smile faded seconds later, and she held a finger in the air, suddenly remembering she was cross with him.

“Thorn tells me you’ve been ignoring his letters,” she scolded.

Callan shifted on the stool. He hadn’t expected an opportunity to present itself so early in the conversation.

“I’ve been busy,” he said, pitching his voice over the dull roar of the crowd. “But, speaking of Thorn, I’ve been thinking. Perhaps it’s time I traveled to Nivali.” Estrid pulled back and stared him down, eyes narrowed in vague suspicion.

“It’s been some time since I last visited,” he added.

“That’s an understatement,” Estrid scoffed. She tapped a fingernail on the rim of her empty glass, signaling to a nearby servant.

“At any rate, I’m resolved to make the journey.” Callan paused for a moment while the servant filled her glass nearly to the rim. He continued once they were alone again. “I’d like to bring Nova with me.”

Estrid sputtered, nearly choking on the sweet red wine. “Bring Nova? Why?”

“Fawn has been teaching her about the territories. I’d like to show her the Winter Court. Also, I’ve been training her in sword fighting, and where better to learn than in Nivali?” He kept his face blank as she considered him, her eyes squinted as if she knew he had omitted certain details.

“She’s quite an intriguing female,” Estrid said finally, looking out over the crowd and tapping her forefinger on the arm of her throne. “Very well. But I hope you’ll speak with Thorn and seriously consider what he has to say. And I expect you to protect Nova as if she were one of my own. She and Evander would make a handsome pair. Don’t you agree?”

Callan caught sight of Evander sipping ale with his friends, his scorching gaze following any female who happened past them.

“I’ll leave the wisdom of matchmaking to you, my Lady.” Callan stood and bowed before taking his leave to make arrangements and steel himself for the journey ahead.

Seventeen

Crisp air greeted Nova as she stepped out into the stone courtyard. The bonfire from the night before had burned down to embers, but the stars still shone dimly against the purpling predawn sky. She wore a dark blue, fur-lined cloak, a sensible wool dress, and thick, thigh-high stockings under her brown leather riding boots, all pilfered from Fawn’s armoire. She had hoped to bid her friend farewell in person but found Fawn’s chamber empty and her bed still neatly made. Realizing Fawn must have been with Josef, Nova smirked and quickly penned a note, which she left on the desk.

Bending down, she adjusted the dagger sheathed within her boot, the crossguard digging into her ankle. Heavy footfalls descended the stone steps behind her, and then Callan was at her side. He whistled sharply, cutting through the stillness of the early-morning air. A moment later, Frost appeared, trotting through the stone archway, his mane and tail, as white as a snowsquall, bouncing behind him.

The horse came to a halt in front of them, and Callan stroked its graceful neck with one hand, murmuring softly as he took the reins in the other. Nova stepped forward and gently scratched behind the horse’s ear. Callan tightened the straps of the saddle and hefted a brown leather saddlebag onto Frost’s broad back, securing it in place.

Dressed in his travel clothes, a heavy woolen cloak over a gray tunic and thick black breeches, Callan looked more like the rugged tracker she had first met in Timberfell, but his dark hair was still braided and woven with beads.

“I can’t help but notice you’ve prepared only one horse for our journey,” she said. “Again.”

“You’ve never traveled by portal before,” Callan explained, bending to hold the stirrup steady.

“Is that all?”

Callan lifted his brows. “Well, I thought it unwise to mention, but the last time you rode a horse, you were thrown.”