Page 17 of Death Will Follow

“Hunting is a more accurate description. Since Pyralis. His tracker breached the shield around the Silvergard Estate yesterday.” She paused, biting the inside of her cheek.

Callan’s mind raced, desperate for every detail, and he struggled to narrow in on a single thought.

“A tracker?”

“Yes. A good one.” Nova stared at her hands where they lay folded in her lap. “She’s here in Nivali now.”

Callan lifted her off his lap and set her on the sofa beside him, quickly righting his breeches before springing to his feet. He strode to where his sword lay on the mantelpiece. Nova was at his side in an instant, guiding him back to the sofa where she sat and pulled him down beside her.

“All is well, my love,” she murmured, taking his face in her hands and running her thumbs over the tense muscles of his clenched jaw. “As it turns out, I have a gift that’s rather effective against shadow assassins.”

The faint, proud smile tugging at her lips thawed his anger a degree.

“And what might that be?” he asked, the question coming out rougher than he’d intended.

“The Light of Illora.” Nova dropped her hands from his face, but he scooped one of them up, wanting to maintain the connection. “Nox says it’s quite rare. It undoes dark magic somehow. My father had placed an enchantment on Bryn—the tracker—but I broke it.”

“I’ve never heard of such a thing.” His eyes fell to their joined hands, and he squeezed once, shaking his head against the vision of someone harming his mate.

“My ancestors nearly managed to purge it from the bloodline long ago.”

“How can you be certain she isn’t pretending to be free of the curse? Biding her time?”

“If you’d seen her before . . .” Nova’s eyes went wide, and she shuddered. “When she came for me, she was dull and gray, like all the color and life had been siphoned out of her. Her eyes, they were completely black. Empty. I fought for my life. Managed to get her in the shoulder with my dagger, but she ripped the blade free and tossed it away. Like a horse flicking a fly. She got me on my back, and that’s when she strangled me.”

Callan opened his mouth to interrupt, but she laid a finger across his lips, halting him.

“I know, I know. Never let them get you on your back,” she said, reciting his own training refrain back to him. “Nox and Lucan arrived just in time and saw the light that broke the enchantment.”

Callan was quiet for a moment, willing himself to maintain his calm as the information settled over him.

“She’s perfectly fine now. She’s vowed to serve me until her debt is repaid.” Nova held up her hand, displaying the ring winding like a delicate silver vine around her finger.

“Never a dull moment with you, is there?” Callan smiled and lifted her hand to his lips, brushing them against her knuckles. A knock came, and Nova rose from the sofa to answer it. After exchanging words with a female on the other side, she closed the door and turned back to face him.

“Bryn is awake.” Discarding her robe on the bed, she gathered her clothing that lay scattered about the room. She stepped into the legs of her tight black breeches and shimmied to pull them over the swell of her hips. “Will you come meet her?”

Callan rose as Nova tugged her blouse down over her chest and shoved the hem into her waistband. The black leather bodice she laced up over the top was decidedly Silvergardian, and incredibly enticing. He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her middle, pressing his nose to the space below her ear and inhaling the sweet scent of her.

“Later, my love,” she murmured, twisting in his arms. “I’ve so much more to tell you.” She planted a chaste kiss on his lips and pulled away, grabbing her boots and hopping around on one foot as she tugged on each one. Once dressed, she strapped her dagger to her thigh and tightened her sword belt around her waist.

Callan pinched the chest of his tunic, brought the fabric to his nose, and sniffed. He smelled of sweat and straw. Quickly trading his soiled tunic for a fresh one from the wardrobe, he pulled the garment over his head before retrieving his own sword and following Nova out the door. In the excitement of their reunion, he’d forgotten that he, too, had news to deliver.

Eight

Forced to pause every few steps as folk stopped Callan to engage him in small talk, Nova made her way out of the Great Hall at a staggered pace. The space was more crowded than usual, she noted, with additional tables, all packed to bursting, and every available bit of standing room occupied. Between the heat from the fire, the mass of gathered bodies, and the haze of smoke hanging in the air, Nova’s head swam. At long last, she shoved her way through the tall wooden doors and burst out onto the veranda, filling her chest with the crisp, fresh air. It was a sunny day with barely a breath of wind. Nova had a clear view down the sloping terrain that led from the Estate, over the rooftops of the smaller cabins, to the docks and the shacks lining the shore.

Bryn stood on the veranda too, looking out over the town to the cove beyond, one leg bent and propped up on the railing. Nova called out to her, and Bryn twisted toward her voice. Her brown hair was half up, secured with a leather cord, and a healthy pink tinge painted her cheeks.

Joining the other female, Nova leaned her elbows on the rail.

“It reminds me of home,” Bryn said, jutting her chin toward the shoreline.

“The sea?” Nova asked, fairly certain Maedwen was mostly landlocked.

“No, those huts.”

The dwellings dotting the shoreline were constructed of found materials: driftwood, rope, sections of discarded sails. They belonged to the fisher folk who set out to sea for long stretches, only occupied when they returned to land for short stays.