Page 41 of Sun, Moon & Shadow

“I’ll bring you upstairs,” he said, offering her his hand. They bid his uncle good night before leaving. The cheerful voices of those who continued drinking in the hall faded to a low hum as they neared their chamber.

Callan closed and shielded the door, sealing them away from the rest of the world. Gathering several blankets from the arm of the sofa, he crouched and arranged them into a makeshift bed on the pelt before the hearth.

“It’ll be a few days yet before we’re able to set sail for Illora.” He smoothed his hands over the blankets and moved to the sofa where he tugged off his boots. “I thought we might spend some time training before we leave.”

“I’d like that,” Nova said distractedly, removing one of the plush pillows from the bed and tossing it at him.

He caught the pillow against his chest and set it aside before slipping the bracers off his forearms. “I saw you met Liv. What did you speak about?”

Her heart stuttered. “I allowed her to tell my future.”

Callan was silent for a beat. “And?”

Nova bit her lip. “She told me death will follow me wherever I go, but those who fear me will one day celebrate me.”

Nova remained silent, bracing for Callan’s reaction. She chanced a brief look in his direction. He said nothing, his expression unreadable.

“I know,” she said, forcing a dry laugh. “It’s ridiculous.” She gripped the layers of blankets and tugged, roughly turning down the bed.

“I didn’t say that,” Callan protested, his voice quiet.

Nova pinched the bridge of her nose, hot tears stinging at the corners of her eyes. “I wouldn’t fault you for thinking it.”

“Nova—”

“Don’t, Callan.” She couldn't bear the tenderness in his voice as he spoke her name. She turned to him, her face a mask of cold indifference. “I’m not a child. I know there’s nothing remarkable about me. Liv was simply having a bit of fun at my expense.”

“Nova, look at me.” He was beside her then, his fingers loosely circling her wrist. She wrenched her hand away from his touch.

“Forgive me.” He stepped away from her, clasping his hands behind his back. “I thought . . . last night—”

“Last night was a mistake,” she said, lacing her words with as much ice as she could summon. “It never should have happened.”

“I see.” Callan’s face fell, and she was taken aback by the depth of pain conveyed in such a simple look. Her rejection had cut him deeper than any blade ever could.

Callan didn’t try to speak, his jaw tight and face drawn. Nova spun, forcing herself to turn away from the hurt shining in his eyes. She rushed into the bathing chamber and closed the door against the overpowering attraction intent on drawing her to him no matter how fiercely she fought against it. When she came out a short time later, Callan had blown out the candles. He lay on the floor with his broad back to her, silhouetted against the glow of the fire.

Nova crept into bed quietly and buried her face in the soft down of the pillow. Only then did she allow her tears to fall, silent and hidden, the evidence of them quickly vanishing into the pillowcase. She desperately needed Liv’s premonition to be false. Her words had confirmed what Nova already felt. Already feared. There was something between her and Callan. She’d already allowed herself to grow too close to him. Too fond of him.

Nova had known love before. Knew what it was to accept someone into your heart, into your body. She also knew the bitter taste and hollow ache of heartbreak; it was a pain she feared she wouldn’t survive a second time.

She peeked over the covers to where Callan lay motionless. Her awareness of his anguish twisted like a knife in her chest. But she knew it was nothing compared to the suffering she would endure if she allowed herself to love him. If she gave herself to him entirely and he left her.

As everyone else had.

A full minute passed before Callan realized he was staring at the door through which Nova had disappeared. His fists hung clenched at his sides, palms dusted with a biting frost, the blue haze swirling in his field of vision. He crossed to the fireplace, standing in the spot where he and Nova had kissed the night before. No, it was more than a kiss. It had awakened something in him, something buried deep and long forgotten. He’d felt more alive in that fleeting moment with her wrapped in his arms than he had for centuries.

She’d returned his kiss with a passion that seemed to burn as intensely as the one blazing within him. Or had he imagined that? If they hadn’t been interrupted . . . Well, they had been interrupted. It was no use speculating. But now, the connection he’d felt earlier in the day, passing like an invisible thread between them, seemed to have been severed. Something had changed, but what?

Liv.

There must have been more to her premonition.

He approached the bathing chamber door, intending to knock, but stopped short, his hand hovering in midair. Nova had kissed him after he told her the story of how he’d lost his parents. Callan winced. She hadn’t kissed him out of passion at all.

It was pity.

A prickly heat crept up his neck, and he blinked against an unwelcome sting at the corners of his eyes. How could he have been so foolish? She’d felt sorry for him, and he’d taken advantage. He’d been out of control since the night he met her. Confronting Evander, unleashing his magic, returning to Nivali on a whim after two hundred years. And that godsdamned kiss.