Page 57 of Sun, Moon & Shadow

“Our bloodline carries different abilities and levels of ability. My father was unmatched when it came to mind control, but he was unable to read minds. I can read minds remarkably well, but I’ve never been particularly skilled at controlling them. Omen excelled at both. My father resented him. Feared him, really. Most feared Omen. They found his appearance unsettling.”

“I was raised in the Human Realm, concealed with a glamour. But the humans weren’t fooled. They could sense something unnatural about me,” Nova said, the words coaxed from her by both the wine and Nox’s candor. “They taunted me. Beat me. Even once threw stones at me. All because of how I looked.”

“And yet, here you sit. A strong, capable female, despite how you were treated.”

“I don’t know why I’m sharing this with you.” She shook her head, setting her glass down on the low table in front of them. “It’s not something I like to think of, much less discuss.”

“I didn’t always speak so openly about my past, either. I preferred to keep it buried. But over time, I discovered my anger had begun to fester inside me. I realized it would likely consume me entirely if I didn’t find a way to stop it. Then, I met someone I trusted enough to share even the darkest parts of myself.”

Nova studied the painting again, her eyes roaming over the shadows and highlights skillfully formed by the artist’s brush, bringing vibrant life to the composition.

“Why display this portrait when it’s a reminder of so much pain? Why not commission a new one?”

Nox considered for a moment. “It’s important to me to remember my past. It keeps me focused on the future I want, for myself and for my Court.” Nox leaned toward her. “I know we’ve just met, but I’m hopeful you’ll come to see that I am not my father. That Silvergard is so much more than it once was. I’m aware of our reputation throughout the Realm. What is whispered about me.

“This perception keeps my people isolated. Isolation is what allowed my father’s cruelty to go unchecked. Unpunished. You’ve already made connections in Pyralis and Nivali. I had hoped you might use those connections to improve relations between Silvergard and the other territories. Whatever you may have thought of me or my Court before you arrived here, you are the rightful heir to the throne of Silvergard.”

Nova’s spine straightened.

“I hadn’t even considered the prospect,” she insisted. “I wouldn’t know the first thing about being a ruler.”

“And I would never force you to take on such a responsibility. But perhaps you’d be willing to serve as an emissary between Silvergard and the other territories?”

Nova pressed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose, the weight of her exhaustion settling over her all at once.

“I’m asking a great deal, I know,” Nox said apologetically. “We can discuss it another time.”

“Yes, I think that would be best. Good night, Nox.”

The fire crackled faintly as she padded across the thick rug. Nox called her name just as she took hold of the carved stone doorknob. She looked back over her shoulder at her uncle.

“I’m very glad you’re here,” he said quietly.

She dipped her head in a bow of acknowledgment before making her way toward the privacy of her chamber and the alluring promise of sleep.

A handful of minutes later, she was slipping out of her dress, which she left in a puddle on the floor, and into a black satin nightgown that trailed behind her as she crawled onto the bed. The moonstone lamps began to dim with the coming dawn. Nova’s eyes burned with fatigue as she curled up on her side, quickly falling into what she hoped would finally be a deep and restful sleep.

Nova glided down a long hallway lined on both sides with tall windows. She knew she was dreaming. Moonlight streamed in through the windowpanes on either side of her as a warm breeze billowed the sheer black curtains.

A heavy door swung open before her, revealing a throne room beyond. A full moon shone brightly through the glass ceiling overhead, bathing the room in its silvery light. A throne of carved moonstone sat on a raised platform at the far end of the room, glowing faintly.

A voice spoke her name, the sound a vaguely distorted murmur seeming to rush at her from all directions at once. Nox appeared at her side clad in a black robe. His hair was tied back, charcoal eyes solemn.

“I wish to show you something.” His voice sounded slow and muffled, as if it came from far away. Nox extended his hand. Nova hesitated for an instant, staring at the feathered lines creasing his palm, before laying her own hand in his. His slender fingers closed around hers, and a flash of white filled her vision as a shock ripped through her body.

Nova blinked against the blinding light as the pain evaporated. Her vision cleared, and she found the once-empty throne room full of folk standing shoulder to shoulder. Her vantage point was lower than normal, as though seeing through the eyes of a child. The crowd stood gathered around the dais, where her grandfather Onyx sat elevated above them all, the great throne dwarfed by his large frame. A silver crown set with luminous stones lay atop his inky-black curls. His wide mouth curled in a hateful sneer.

An earsplitting scream cut through the murmur of the crowd, and Nova’s chest seized. Stifled gasps erupted as the crowd fanned out to the edges of the room, leaving an open space just before the dais. A male lay on the stone floor, crying out in pain and thrashing about, his limbs contorted grotesquely as if he were being speared with hot iron.

Onyx’s voice boomed. “Those who refuse to kneel before me will writhe at my feet instead.” A rumble of vile laughter flowed from his broad chest, mixing with the tortured cries of the male and echoing throughout the throne room.

The blinding light flashed a second time, and the folk who had crowded the throne room only an instant before were gone. A female knelt weeping at Onyx’s feet. Nova recognized her from the portrait in the library; it was her grandmother, Luna. Onyx struck her cheek with the back of his hand, and she fell to the floor. A young Omen ran to her and crouched by her side, his silver hair glinting under the light of the moon. Omen stood and turned from his mother’s crumpled form to face his father, his hands balled in defiant fists at his sides, chest heaving. Onyx towered over him.

A moment later, Omen began to twitch. He staggered toward a black stone column at the edge of the dais, his movements jerky, like a marionette manipulated by an invisible puppeteer.

Omen halted before the pillar and slowly raised his hands, arms trembling as if struggling against the movement. Suddenly, his fist shot out in front of him, connecting solidly with the stone. His other hand followed close behind. Omen roared through clenched teeth as his fists increased their pace, forcefully striking the column over, and over, and over again.

The thud of the strikes grew wet as Omen’s knuckles split and bled before the sickening crunch of shattered bone rang out in the air. Only then did Omen stop, slumping to his knees. Onyx prowled up behind him, chuckling to himself and nudging his son forward with the toe of his boot. Omen fell to his side on the floor, rolling onto his back and cradling his mangled hands against his chest. A wave of nausea washed over Nova, and her vision faded to black.