Page 66 of Sun, Moon & Shadow

“We shouldn’t be here,” he murmured, his mouth hovering close to her ear. “This is where they hide the records documenting Silvergard’s dark history. An archive of conquest and bloodshed.”

Nova shivered at his breath on her cheek and pulled away. His playful expression disarmed her, and she flashed a thin smile, pushing aside the flicker of unease sparking in the pit of her stomach.

“Is war your preferred subject? A bit predictable, don’t you think?” she asked, clicking her tongue. The corners of her mouth went slack when she saw the intensity with which he regarded her.

“It’s an occupational interest. But, I’m an avid reader with varied tastes. What were you looking for?” he asked, eyeing her.

“Actually, nothing. I found myself here by accident. Though I am on the hunt for something new.”

“Perhaps I can make some recommendations.” He motioned toward the exit at the far end of the central aisle.

Nova walked ahead of him, the sound of their footsteps overlapping as they approached the hidden door. Idrian caught her elbow before they reached it, and Nova inhaled sharply.

The general’s mannerisms reminded her of Callan’s, his straight spine and his habit of clasping his hands behind his back. But while being close to Callan immediately put her at ease, with Idrian it was wholly different. Being close to him felt like standing near the edge of a cliff—thrilling but dangerous.

“I meant it when I said we shouldn’t be in here, Mouse. The Noble Lord might overlook your transgression. You’re family after all. I’m afraid he might not be so forgiving toward me.”

Nova bristled slightly at his mention of her relation to Nox. Had he been looking for evidence of her in the ancestry records?

“Nova?” Her name on his lips pulled her from her thoughts.

“Your secret is safe with me, General,” she whispered.

“I told you to call me Idrian."

“Of course . . . Idrian.”

Nova pushed the false wall open silently, looking both ways before stepping out into the main library. The general exited after her, sealing off the secret wing with a quiet snick behind them.

Thirty-One

Nova groaned through her teeth, clutching her abdomen and wishing, for the briefest of moments, that she were dead. It was only a matter of time before it arrived: her first cycle since taking on her Fae form. Nova had always found her courses unpleasant, but this was godsdamned excruciating.

Her lady’s maid entered her chamber to find her rolling around on top of her bedsheets, trying to find a comfortable position.

“You really ought to be dressed by now,” Isla tsked as she fluttered about the room, tidying up the clothing scattered on the floor and hanging from every knob. “Commander Lucan will be cross if you’re late.”

“Please inform the commander that I’m ill and I don’t wish to be disturbed,” Nova said, sighing as she finally found a mildly contorted pose that relieved her discomfort for the moment. “Could you bring me something sweet from the kitchens?” she whimpered.

Isla leaned down and ran a hand across Nova’s forehead, brushing several wayward strands from her eyes.

“I’ll see what I can manage,” she said before flitting out into the corridor.

Another spasm rippled through Nova’s lower abdomen, and she folded in on herself. Grabbing one of her pillows, she clamped it between her thighs and curled into a ball in the center of the bed. The pressure of the bedding between her legs felt surprisingly pleasant, briefly distracting her from the pain.

Nova stilled at the sudden overwhelming feeling of arousal mingling with the throbbing ache inside of her. Sliding her hands over her breasts, she squeezed gently through the thin satin of her nightdress. They felt full and tender, but it was a delicious sort of pain that had her biting her bottom lip. Nova threw her legs over the side of the bed and headed for the bathing chamber, stripping down and leaving the garment in a pile on the floor as she went.

The steaming water cradled her, and she released a contented moan as she lowered herself into the tub. An old letter from Callan sat on the small side table beside an empty teacup. She unfolded the paper along the well-worn creases and read his message for what was likely the twentieth time, absentmindedly tracing the lines of his script with her fingertips.

It had been nearly two weeks since he’d last written her. The sting of rejection took her by surprise. Perhaps out of sight is out of mind, she thought. The tone of his messages was always casual, but she knew he remained suspicious of her uncle’s intentions, offering several times to come steal her away. She always wrote back, her replies matching his tone. Still, she sensed the pull stretching between them, drawing her thoughts back to him again and again, despite time and distance.

Nova set the letter back on the table and sank lower until the water lapped at the hollow below her bottom lip. She raked her fingers along the surface of the water, miniature whirlpools swirling in their wake. She thought of Callan’s hands, strong enough to wield a longsword but gentle enough to braid her hair.

Her eyes drifted shut, and she imagined it was Callan’s hands sinking beneath the water, massaging her breasts and gently rolling her nipples between his fingers. She sighed, envisioning those same nimble fingers moving lower, brushing against her inner thighs and stroking her clit before sliding inside her, again and again, until her entire body shuddered with pleasure.

Nova teetered on the edge of a Realm-shattering release when a series of knocks sounded on her chamber door, wrenching her from the fantasy.

Her vision flooded red, and she rose out of the water, yanking on her black silk robe without bothering to towel off first.