Page 69 of Sun, Moon & Shadow

“Hello, Your Grace,” she said without looking up. “Please, sit.” She gestured to a wooden stool opposite her and set aside her weaving. Leaning back and resting an elbow on the low worktop, she eyed him for a moment.

“What brings you to my cottage?” she asked, though Callan suspected she already knew the answer.

“I hoped you could . . . assist me,” he said, pausing when a knowing smile flashed on her lips. His intuition flickered; he was never quite certain whether he should trust her.

“And what assistance could I offer a Noble of Nivali?”

Callan rubbed a hand over the stubble at his chin. “I wish to know my future.” He wanted to snatch the words from the air and swallow them back down as soon as he’d uttered them.

“Ah,” she breathed, sitting up straight in her seat. “And if I were to share your future with you, what would you give me in return?”

Callan furrowed his brow. Did his uncle compensate Liv for her premonitions? Had Nova?

“I have nothing to give.” He meant it. He’d lost track of how long had he’d been drifting through life, relying on the generosity of those around him.

“Not now, perhaps. But you might have something I want one day,” Liv drawled. “Promise me a favor, and I’ll give you your future.”

“A favor?”

“Yes. A simple favor. To be granted at the time of my choosing.”

She folded her hands in her lap and stared at him through the tense threads strung on the loom. Callan suspected she knew he would agree to her bargain, just as she had known it was he who darkened her doorway moments before. He didn’t like her terms. It was precisely the kind of trap he had once warned Nova about. But he hadn’t felt this adrift since his parents’ passing. He was desperate for something—anything—to hold on to.

“Very well,” he agreed. “I will grant you one favor.”

The corners of her mouth lifted in a coy smile. “Hold out your hand, Your Grace.”

Callan reached around the loom, his palm up toward the ceiling. Liv placed something in his hand: a smooth blue stone.

“You will return this stone to me on the day I invoke my favor.”

Callan nodded once, his expression turning grave under the meager weight of the thing. He dropped it into the pouch at his hip. Liv extended her hand again, inviting him to take it. Recklessly, Callan reached out, laying his hand in hers before he could think better of it. She gripped him with a strength he didn’t realize she possessed, her fingernails biting into his flesh. He shot a glance at her face and saw her eyes had gone milky white. Her voice was a low drone like a swarm of bees.

“Your path is obscured by shadow. The way forward is for you, and you alone, to choose. You may one day sit upon a throne, but never one of snow and ice.”

Liv released him from her grasp, and he flexed his fingers against the lingering pain, the marks of her nails etched like half-moons on his skin. Her eyes cleared, pale blue once more, and she returned to her weaving without another word.

Callan rose from his seat and strode out into the cold, rubbing his hand and wondering whether the information she had shared was worth the price he would one day pay.

Thirty-Three

Only two days remained until Nova’s bargain would expire. Nox flagged her down in the hallway as she rushed to meet Lucan for training. She barely stopped when she reached him, turning in his direction and continuing to jog backward as he spoke.

“I have something special planned for today. Isla will help you dress after training.” He sent her on her way with a wave of his hand. “Try not to take any hits to the face,” he called out a second later.

Nova grinned like a fool, recalling the elbow to the mouth that had left her with a split lip after her first day in the sparring ring. It felt like ages had passed since then.

As she reached the base of the stairs, Lucan tossed her an apple, his raised eyebrow a reminder that he didn’t appreciate being kept waiting. Without a word, he turned and marched toward the front door, and Nova rushed to keep pace with his determined stride.

Having reached the end of her training session unscathed, Nova headed back to her room several hours later, finding Isla already waiting inside.

“Gods, you look awful. This will never do,” Isla tutted, shoving her into the bathing chamber.

Nova glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Large sections of her hair had come loose from her braid and lay plastered with sweat to the sides of her face. Wispier strands flared out around her crown in a dark halo.

Once Nova had been scrubbed to Isla’s satisfaction, the lady’s maid dried her hair and gathered it into a sleek twist with several long tendrils. A circlet of fine silver set with a single teardrop moonstone was laid on Nova’s head, the stone dangling in the center of her forehead. Isla reached into the armoire and brought out a new gown of fine silk, the color a deep oxblood. Nova stepped into the sleek skirt before slipping her arms into the dress.

The sleeveless gown had a high neck and a keyhole cutout extending from the hollow at the base of her throat to midway down her abdomen. The fabric clung to her chest and hips before belling out around her legs and trailing in a short train behind her. Black silk slippers and twin silver cuffs, one for each wrist, completed the ensemble. Nova rubbed her thumb over the smooth white stone of her mother’s ring. It had become a talisman of sorts, easing her anxiety whenever it flared.