Page 35 of Sun, Moon & Shadow

In a heartbeat, Callan pulled his own sword from the sheath at his back and swept Nova behind him, shielding her body with his own. The nearest guard halted just short of running onto Callan’s blade.

“Anyone who even thinks of harming her will meet a swift death upon my sword. Without hesitation. Without mercy. Am I understood?” Callan’s roar brought a dead silence to the crowded hall. None dared answer.

Callan’s uncle raised his arm, signaling his guards to lower their weapons. The third and fourth fingers on his left hand were missing. The guards obeyed his command, shrinking back into position, wary eyes fixed on both Callan and Nova.

“Might we speak privately, Uncle?” Callan asked, his voice calm and even in spite of the blade still leveled before him. Thorn searched Callan’s face for a beat before clapping his hands and glancing around at the onlookers.

“Clear the hall.”

Abandoning full plates and half-empty cups, everyone rose from their seats, some climbing the stairs and others heading outdoors. Only when the room was empty did Callan return his sword to the sheath at his back. He turned to Nova, his dark eyes wide as he gripped her hand in his own. Under the circumstances, Nova welcomed the touch and clung to his hand with equal force.

“Won’t you introduce me?” Thorn asked, his eyes narrowed on Nova.

Callan turned back to face his uncle. “Thorn, this is Nova. She’s been a guest in Pyralis.”

Thorn motioned to a male servant who stood like a statue close by, awaiting his Lord’s instructions.

“Show Miss Nova to a guest chamber. Light the fire and prepare a tray with food and drink.” He waved a dismissive hand in her direction, as if shooing away a fly buzzing in his ear.

“Nova remains with me,” Callan said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Very well.” Thorn addressed the servant again. “Prepare the fire. Bring food later.”

The servant bowed before hurrying up the staircase and out of sight. Thorn sat on a stool beside the fire and motioned for them to do the same. Callan and Nova lowered themselves onto a long bench on the opposite side of the stone pit, flames dancing between them and Callan’s uncle.

“Now then, what are you doing here, Callan?”

“I plan to accompany Nova on her journey north,” Callan explained.

“To Silvergard?” Thorn’s tone was wary as he studied her. “It’s unwise to travel to the Lunar Court.”

He held up an empty cup, which was promptly filled by a waiting servant holding a large pitcher. Thorn motioned toward them, and the servant filled cups for Nova and Callan as well. Nova sipped politely, realizing it wasn’t ale but a sweet honeyed wine. In the bright light of the fire, she could better see Thorn’s face, noting the faintest creases at his brow and the corners of his eyes—eyes pinning her with an appraising stare.

“How fortunate, then, that we’re not traveling there.” Callan swallowed a large gulp from his own cup.

“Ah.” Thorn stared into his mug. “Then where are you going?”

“Nova has plans to visit the Temple of Illora. I offered to escort her by boat to avoid traveling through Lunar territory.”

“So, this is only a temporary visit,” Thorn said flatly. “I confess, when I saw you burst through those doors, I hoped you’d finally come to honor your responsibilities here.”

Callan’s jaw tensed, and Nova suddenly wished she had been whisked away to the guest chamber.

“I tire of this discussion,” Callan said, words clipped. “It’s the reason why I no longer even open your letters. I believe I’ve made my position clear.”

“I understand your position,” Thorn responded, voice raised. He paused to compose himself before continuing. “I mourn them too. So do your subjects. But you cannot continue to allow your grief to prevent you from fulfilling your obligations to Nivali. To your people.”

“Everyone seems quite well under your rule.” Callan gestured to the plentiful food and furs.

“I’m a regent. A good one, if I may say so, but I am not the rightful Noble Lord of Nivali. The folk do not forget this. It’s you who has forgotten your oath.”

Callan flexed his wrists as if the markings concealed beneath his bracers pained him.

“I have not forgotten!”

His shield slipped in his anger, and, for an instant, Nova once again beheld the raw power of Callan’s true form. A bright light burst forth, like the blinding glare of sun on snow. Silver flecks glinted on his cheekbones, his dark hair blowing on an unseen breeze. Then his shield slammed back into place, the bright light vanishing as quickly as it had come. When he spoke again, his voice was a pained staccato.

“I cannot forget. I cannot move on. I cannot do what you ask of me.” Callan hunched forward, as if weighed down by the burden of his uncle’s expectations. Nova resisted the urge to reach out and touch him. The hall was silent save for the crackling of the fire as Thorn observed his nephew, his sharp mind clearly assessing the situation.