Page 73 of Sun, Moon & Shadow

He released his hold on her, taking the reins in both hands to meet a rocky incline a short distance ahead. The horse picked its way carefully up the steep slope toward a ruined structure at the summit. Idrian dismounted when they reached the cover of the partially collapsed walls of ashen stone. He grabbed Nova around the waist and pulled her down from the saddle, setting her on the ground in front of him. The warmth of his rapid breaths puffed against her forehead.

Nova backed away and turned in a slow circle, surveying her surroundings. The Estate was no longer visible in the distance. She silently scolded herself for falling asleep. It was impossible to gauge how far they’d traveled or if they’d changed direction. An unfamiliar mountain rose out of the horizon to the north. She couldn’t see what lay beyond from where she stood.

“This is where we agreed to meet,” Idrian said distractedly, coming to stand beside her. He raked a hand through his hair as he scanned the barren landscape stretching out around them in every direction. “Something is wrong. They should have been waiting for us.”

Nova bit the inside of her cheek, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable under the wide, gray sky, clad in nothing but a thin nightdress. A chill wind blew through the ruins, and her skin prickled, sending a shiver darting along her limbs. Idrian slung an arm around her shoulders, guiding her to an intact corner sheltered from the wind.

“Rest now,” he told her.

Nova sank onto the damp ground, gathering her cloak around her bent knees as she huddled against the remnants of cold stone. Pulling her hood over her head, she studied Idrian as he paced back and forth, wearing a groove in the sand. Her stomach cramped with hunger, but they’d brought nothing to eat. Her eyelids grew heavy, and, before long, her body defied her by drifting off to sleep once again.

A drizzling rain fell, the cool drops moistening Nova’s cheeks and waking her from a dreamless sleep. The sky had gone dark. The moon was new, the stars obscured by thick clouds. Idrian sat on the ground nearby, leaning against a crumbling stone column. He appeared to be resting, but Nova sensed he was fully alert, sharp eyes scanning the perimeter, keen ears listening for any indication of an approach.

The faint sound of tumbling rocks startled them both. Nova swallowed a gasp, and Idrian sprang to his feet, hunching low as he silently drew his sword from its sheath. He took several measured steps in the direction of the noise, turning his head to Nova, a finger pressed firmly against his lips. Nova nodded wordlessly as he disappeared from view.

Minutes ticked by slowly with no further noise and no sign of Idrian. The rain came down heavier, fat drops gathering into rivulets that rushed down her hood and onto the shoulders of her cloak. Nova thought of her blades, laid out on the vanity in her chamber—gods only knew how far away and utterly useless to her. She flexed her fingers, sluggish and slightly numb, before clenching her hands into fists.

My only weapons, she thought wearily and cursed under her breath.

A male voice rose above the pattering of the rain. A grunt of pain. She was on her feet in an instant, crouching low to the ground. Her heart thumped wildly, an untamed bird flinging itself repeatedly against the cage of her ribs.

Nova willed herself forward across the sodden ground toward the source of the noise. She peered over the collapsed wall on the eastern edge of the hill. Without the light of the moon, the world was blanketed in darkness. Nova’s breath halted as she stared silently into the night.

A sudden flash of pale light.

Idrian’s medallion.

By the glow of the moonstone, Nova spotted him halfway down the incline, sprawled on his back in the sand, scrambling for his sword. Two figures emerged, their cloaks peeling away from the surrounding darkness as they loomed over him. One kicked the sword out of his reach and yanked Idrian up by the neck of his armored vest. Steel glinted as the other produced a dagger from the folds of his cloak.

A gasp escaped from her lips before she could stop it. She clapped a useless hand over her mouth as the hooded figures turned their heads in her direction as one. She didn’t think they could see her, but her blood iced over just the same. The figure with the dagger hauled Idrian onto his knees, tugging his head back by his hair and pressing the blade against his throat.

The second figure began an unhurried climb up the hill toward Nova’s hiding place. She remained rooted to the spot. Idrian struggled against his captor and shouted into the darkness, a single word cutting through the thrum of the blood rushing in her ears.

“Run!”

Nova shot to her feet and stumbled backward, immediately bumping against something solid. A pair of sinewy arms wrapped around her middle, pinning her arms to her sides. Her mind flashed to her early training sessions with Callan, and she threw her head back instinctively. A sickening crunch was chased by a pained cry. She’d broken her assailant’s nose.

The arms around her loosened but held fast despite her violent thrashing. She struggled to get free, growling through clenched teeth like an animal caught in a snare. The night was so dark and her voice so loud that a second figure appeared directly in front of her before she even realized someone else was there. She saw the fist wrapped around the hilt of a dagger as it sailed through the air before striking her in the temple.

Then she saw nothing.

Thirty-Five

Callan bolted upright, furs sliding down his bare chest and gathering around his hips. Confused, he scanned the four corners of the room. The fire still blazed on the hearth, the flames casting a wobbly orange glow on the walls and ceiling. No more than an hour or two had passed since he’d gone to bed. He was alone. But the voice that had roused him from his sleep echoed in his mind. He’d heard it as clearly as if there had been someone in the room with him.

Nova is in danger. Come to Silvergard at once.

He threw back the covers and dressed quickly, pulling on thick black breeches and a dark blue tunic before stepping into his boots. He slipped a breastplate of thick brown leather over his head, tugging it down so the pauldrons lay flush against his shoulders, and secured matching bracers at each wrist. All the while, he willed his heartbeat to remain steady.

Pulling each of his blades from their sheaths, he squinted, checking them for readiness. As usual, both were lethally sharp. With his dagger strapped to his thigh, Callan finally threw a heavy cloak of midnight blue around his shoulders and strode out onto the gallery, carrying his sheathed sword in his hand.

Dozens of folk remained gathered in the hall, drinking. Upon the dais sat Thorn, contentedly observing the revelry and, judging by the lopsided grin on his face, already deep in his cups. Callan shoved his way through the crowd to the foot of the platform, drawing his uncle’s attention.

“Where are you headed dressed for battle?” Thorn asked, speech slurred.

“Silvergard.” Callan said, his tone inviting no argument. “I do not seek your permission. I merely wished to inform you of my departure.”

Thorn’s merry smile melted into a scowl. “What foolishness is this? For how long?”