Page 61 of Sun, Moon & Shadow

Lucan sidestepped her blade, reaching behind the mannequin and cautiously peeling the slashed coat from its shoulders. Nova lowered her weapon.

“It was a joke, Nova. A bit of fun.” He tossed the garment off to the edge of the ring. “Though it’s nice to finally see a little spark from you. Perhaps we’ll make a killer out of you yet.”

Nova spun and took a few steps away from him. She rolled her shoulders and shook out her sword arm, attempting to banish the anger that had her gripping the hilt so tightly her knuckles had gone white.

“Don’t do that,” Lucan instructed, motioning for her to come back. “Whatever you’re feeling, use it.”

Nova took his advice and used her anger for the next hour, slashing and stabbing at the training dummy until its thick burlap skin hung in ribbons and the polished stone floor was littered with straw clippings. When she was through, she walked the perimeter of the ring, chest heaving and bits of golden straw swirling in her wake. Slowly, she backed against the wall and lowered herself to the floor, struggling to regulate her breathing. She laid her sword on the floor beside her, aware of Lucan tracking her movements from his position across the ring with narrowed amber eyes.

“I’m s-sorry.” Nova gasped for air, hating herself for the whine of weakness in her voice

Lucan shoved off the pillar he’d been leaning against and joined her, his back sliding down the wall until he sat beside her.

“Sorry for what? Getting pissed off?” He shrugged, tilting his head back against the smooth stone behind him and looking up at the ceiling. “Look, when I was young, I had to hide certain parts of myself. Gods, it pissed me off. I lashed out constantly, picked fights, aching for a bit of physical pain to distract me from what I was feeling.”

Nova’s breathing slowed a bit, intrigued by this chink in the commander’s armor.

“When I met Nox . . .” A faint smile. There and gone, quicker than a blink. He shook his head and continued. “When I first joined his guard, I was still simmering away. This rage I kept trying to put a lid on was always there, threatening to boil over. Rather than letting it get the better of me, I poured it into my training. Anger can be useful. But you’ve got to channel it. Otherwise, it’s just chaos. Do you see what I’m saying?”

A slight nod. Her breathing was returning to normal.

“Your anger, your fear, your pain—you can let it fuel you.” Lucan spoke softly, brows low as he nodded, staring into the empty air in front of him. “But you can’t let it burn you up.”

Nova flexed her fingers and ran her damp palms over her face before smoothing down the riotous flyaway hairs that had escaped from her braid. Lucan nudged her shoulder with his own.

“Seems my plan to bore you with my sob story worked.” He clapped once and hefted himself up, standing over her and extending a hand. “Let’s go, kid. I think you’ve done enough damage for today.”

Nova took hold of his hand and pulled herself up beside him.

“Don’t call me kid, grandsire.” She slipped her sword back into its sheath.

“Try and have some measure of respect for your elders,” Lucan chided as he playfully shoved her toward the door.

Nova skipped breakfast, opting to ease her nerves by sinking into a hot bath instead. Once clean and relatively calm, she dressed for the day in a sleek black gown with black leather straps crisscrossing her back and wrapping around her ribs.

A message from Callan had arrived while she bathed. It was brief. He was making an effort to fulfill his bargain with his uncle by getting to know his people. Thorn had roped him into attending an upcoming Assembly, a special gathering for the citizens of Nivali to make appeals for aid or seek the Noble Lord’s wisdom in settling disputes over land and fishing rights. And, as Callan put it, for Thorn to address many other incredibly important matters that require the input of a Noble Lord. Nova smiled to herself as she imagined Callan speaking the words with his customary seriousness. She shook her head and laid his letter atop a stack of several others beside her bed. Nox would be expecting her to join him in the library.

Nova and her uncle spent several hours together most days, often sitting in companionable silence in the grand library while she read and he drew in a sketchbook. Occasionally they would socialize with members of the Court, many of whom were patrons of the arts, either creating works themselves or supporting others in their artistic pursuits.

The Estate itself was like a museum. Abstract paintings and realistic landscapes hung on nearly every wall, the pieces beautifully lit by moonstone orbs. Ornate sculptures carved from onyx or moonstone dotted the halls and chambers.

As Nova learned, it hadn’t always been so. Nox broke with thousands of years of tradition over a century earlier, slashing spending on Silvergard’s armed forces and investing in the arts and education for all. He’d worked with district leaders to end mandatory conscription for males across the territory, though one or two districts still upheld such laws. Nox had told her of his efforts to persuade the remaining holdouts to abolish the practice as well.

Nova pushed open the door to the library but found it empty. She slumped down on the sofa next to Nox’s sketchbook lying open on the cushion next to her. She flipped idly through the pages, admiring the detailed sketches of flowers and plants, delicate, lifelike images captured in lines of smudged charcoal. She closed the book and ran her fingertips over the stretched fabric of the cover. A shared love of plants had initially sparked their friendship, though Nova’s interest was in medicinal applications while her uncle’s was purely aesthetic.

Nova tossed the sketchbook onto the table with a thud and glanced up at the portrait hanging above the fireplace. The image of her father never failed to unnerve her, his piercing eyes often seeming to stalk her as she moved about the room. The sound of muffled voices carried through the cracked door of Nox’s study. Nova rose to her feet, forcing herself to turn her back on the painting and rush toward the study. In her haste to escape Omen’s eerie gaze, she burst through the door without knocking, skidding to a halt just inside.

Nox sat behind his desk, knees spread wide with Lucan stood between them. Lucan leaned over her uncle, his hands braced firmly on the carved wooden arms of the chair. She might have found the position threatening if not for Lucan’s sly smile and Nox’s slender fingers gripping Lucan’s forearms, his face tilted expectantly toward the commander’s.

Lucan stepped back at once, his hands going to his sides as he stood at attention. Nox shifted in his seat and stumbled his way through a greeting. Nova had never seen her uncle flustered before.

“I . . . I’m sorry I missed breakfast,” she said.

“I wondered when you’d turn up.” Nox motioned for her to take a seat. A faint flush seared his pale cheeks, and Nova wondered how often her own complexion betrayed her thoughts despite her best efforts to hide them.

“How was training?” Nox asked breezily.

“Fine.” She flopped down onto one of the twin leather wingbacks sitting opposite the desk, shooting a sideways glance at Lucan.