Page 40 of Sun, Moon & Shadow

The air in the hall was tinged gray with smoke from the fire. A cheerful buzz of laughter and conversation filled the space. Upon the dais sat a long table with several chairs arranged behind it, the surface covered with platters of steaming food and large pitchers.

Thorn presided over the feast wearing a formal blue jacket embroidered with silver thread, though the buttons remained unfastened, revealing a loose-fitting shirt underneath and a patch of dark chest hair peeking out at the collar. A striking blond sat on his left, dressed in a robe of luxurious blue velvet cinched at the waist. The two reclined lazily in their seats, their faces close together. The female whispered in Thorn’s ear. Callan tilted his head close to Nova’s as they descended the stairs.

“The female beside my uncle is his consort, Liv. She’s one of the fisher folk.” Liv’s piercing blue gaze fell upon them as they reached the bottom of the staircase. “Thorn says she’s a seer.”

The notion intrigued Nova, but she kept her expression blank as they approached the base of the platform. Thorn rose from his seat and held his arms wide in welcome. He clapped his hands loudly, immediately drawing the attention of the feasting crowd, whose voices died down in anticipation of their lord’s address. Thorn raised his cup in the air.

“I welcome my nephew, Callan, and his companion, Nova, as my guests this evening. A toast to our honored guests.”

The room filled with a mix of genuine and half-hearted cheers as those gathered hoisted their own cups high. Callan bent forward at the waist, holding his fist over his heart. Nova followed his lead and curtsied, bowing her head respectfully. Thorn motioned for them to join his table, and the room was, once again, filled with laughter and animated chatter. Callan pulled Nova’s chair out for her before taking the seat beside his uncle, leaving the chair on her other side empty.

Nova was ravenous, and Callan wasted no time filling a plate with roasted pheasant and root vegetables, which he placed before her. Nova listened absently as Thorn regaled some of his guests with a tale of a perilous sea voyage, made many years before, when his ship was nearly capsized by a run-in with a sea serpent. Scanning the crowd in between bites of food and sips of wine, Nova observed several folk watching her with uneasy sideways glances.

For all the gods’ love, smile, she chided herself.

She lifted the corners of her mouth, baring her teeth in an expression she hoped was pleasant. Eventually, she was forced to look down at her lap to rest her cheeks, which had begun to ache with the effort of appearing likable. Nova’s head snapped up as Thorn’s consort, Liv, slipped into the empty chair beside her. She was a stunning beauty. Her skin was a pearlescent white, and sections of her long blond hair were woven into intricate braids.

Liv held her cup loosely in her long fingers, tilting it toward Nova.

“A toast to the outcasts,” she murmured, a conspiratorial smile gracing her lovely face.

Nova lifted her own cup, hesitating for an instant before tapping it lightly against Liv’s. They both drank.

“Half the folk in this room don’t believe I deserve to be here,” Liv said, jerking her delicate chin at the crowd. “I’d wager many more are questioning what you’re doing here.” Her accent gave her voice a musical quality.

If anyone else had spoken to her as Liv had, Nova might have taken offense, but it was clear Liv considered them equals.

“I suppose it must be odd to see someone who looks as I do dining in this hall. At the Noble Lord’s table, no less.” Nova shrugged one shoulder, setting her cup down and nudging her food around her plate with her fork.

“Those who fear you will one day celebrate you.”

Nova looked up, barely able to keep the surprise from her face.

“It doesn’t take a seer to recognize that there is something remarkable about you,” Liv said.

“I’m no one special.”

“You have many questions about the past. Those I cannot answer.” Liv tilted her head to one side, her brows pinched as if in thought. “But, if you’d like, I can try to spy something of your future.” Liv laid a hand palm up in her own lap beneath the table.

Nova wavered for a breath. She glanced at Callan on her right, engrossed in his uncle’s tall tale. The other folk gathered in the hall were occupied with their own conversations. Turning back to Liv, Nova took her hand.

Liv’s eyes fell shut as her fingers closed around Nova’s, then snapped open again an instant later. Her icy blue irises were clouded over with a milky sheen, gleaming like luminous pearls. Her voice was low and monotonous when she spoke. Nova leaned in close to hear her over the noise of the crowd.

“You are born of sun, moon, and shadow. Wherever your path leads, death will follow. Do not despair, for you are the light that casts out the darkness.”

Liv blinked slowly, her eyes returning to their normal color. She released Nova’s hand and straightened in her seat with a casual sigh.

“It appears my cup is empty,” Liv said, picking up her mug. She stood from her chair, bending down beside Nova and speaking low in her ear. “Stay close to Callan. The thread of your life is woven together with his.”

Liv breezed across the platform, returning to her seat beside Thorn on the other end of the table and leaving Nova stunned. Thorn’s epic tale concluded to a chorus of cheers from his captivated audience. Callan turned to her, smiling wide enough to show off the dimple in his left cheek. Nova swallowed past the lump in her throat and forced a smile of her own, tight-lipped and hollow.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur, the noisy gathering muted around her as Liv’s words echoed in her mind, part riddle and part warning. Fear twisted in the pit of her stomach as she envisioned the specter of death stalking her like a shadow. But an inconvenient anticipation took root within her, a faint warmth spreading from her chest and out along her limbs, at the confirmation that she and Callan were connected. Nova studied him from under her lashes. He appeared happier and more at ease than she’d ever seen him, as though he was exactly where he belonged.

She was staring unblinking into the dancing flames of the fire some time later, her empty cup cradled near her chin, when Callan laid a hand on her shoulder. The sounds of the feast suddenly returned to full volume around her, and she blinked several times.

“Are you well?” he asked, his brow creased.

“Yes, of course,” she assured him. “A bit tired.”