Page 19 of Death Will Follow

“Tired already?” Nova asked.

Bryn arched a brow at her. “Not a chance.” She flexed the fingers on her right hand a few times. “Though I may need a glove as well.”

“That’s easily arranged,” Callan said, hoisting himself off the edge of the table. “But first, I’d like to see what Nova has learned during her time in Silvergard.” He shot Nova a grin in challenge and reached for his sword sheathed at his back.

“I’ll spar with you,” Bryn offered, shrugging her quiver off her shoulder and laying it on the tabletop beside her bow. “I prefer arrows to blades, but I suppose I know enough to make a suitable opponent.”

Taking a sword from the rack, she strode out into the center of the field, making a few practice strikes in the air as she went.

“She’s handy,” Callan remarked, leaning in close to Nova as if expecting another kiss.

“Quite handy.” Nova tilted her head up and brought her lips close to his. “And you haven’t even seen her turn into a bird yet.” With that, she turned on her heel and unsheathed her own sword, spinning it once the way Lucan had shown her when she begged him to teach her some tricks.

Nine

The air in the bathing chamber hung thick with steam as Nova soaked in the tub, dark hair floating on the surface of the water. Limbs heavy, she stood, stepping out of the tub and slipping into her robe. She swiped a palm across the cloudy surface of the mirror and immediately stumbled backward, the backs of her thighs striking the hard edge of the soaking tub.

Peering out at her from the strip of exposed glass was her human face. A face she hadn't seen since she crossed the Boundary into Aemoria. Heart sprinting, she stared wide-eyed at the once-familiar features.

Cautiously, she stepped forward, slowly turning her face from side to side, examining the glossy black hair and gray eyes. Running her fingertips over the curved shells of the ears. A flicker of movement drew her gaze to the floor where the black mist pooled at her feet, expanding and contracting as if it breathed. Moons had passed since it last haunted her dreams. Tendrils extended from the dark mass, twining around Nova’s bare legs like climbing vines. Her mind ordered her to run, but her feet remained rooted to the floor. Fear gripped her, her lungs seizing as the mist climbed over her thighs, her hips, her chest, the icy cold consuming her bit by bit.

Her gaze flicked back to the mirror, where the last remnants of the steamy haze clung to the edge of the glass, and she choked on a startled cry. In the reflection staring back at her, she had become one of Omen’s Enchanted. Her hair was the same matte black, but her skin was dull and colorless. Her eyes, empty black pools. Though terror rioted in her veins, her expression reflected in the glass remained vacant. Devoid of emotion even as the inky mist rose to her chin. Even as the fear gathering in her throat threatened to strangle her.

Nova awoke with a start in the darkened room, gasping for air. Shoving the suffocating fur blankets to the side, she sat up and slid her feet down to rest on the floor. A sheen of cold sweat clung to her bare skin. She glanced over her shoulder at Callan, who shifted on the bed, reaching out for her in his sleep, his brow smooth and untroubled.

The fire still burned steadily on the hearth. The room was stifling. Nova rose from the bed and crossed to the window, twisting the hook latch and easing it open a crack. A brisk breeze blew in, caressing and tempering her heated body. Closing her eyes, she let her head fall back, her skin prickling with goose bumps in the night air.

“You glow in the moonlight.”

Nova flinched at Callan’s voice behind her, low and rumbling, heavy with sleep. She latched the window and turned toward him. The firelight danced across his features, illuminating his expression, a combination of awe and desire, as he drank in the sight of her bathed in the silvery light.

“Can’t sleep?” He extended his arm across the bed, beckoning her to return to him.

“I had a nightmare.” She perched on the edge of the mattress and took his hand, lacing her fingers with his.

“Do you wish to speak of it?” He rolled onto his side and propped himself up on one elbow.

Nova drew in a steadying breath. “I was looking at myself in a mirror. At first, I saw my human face.” She reached up unconsciously, tracing the tapered point of her ear. “Then, the darkness was there. Black mist gathering around my feet, consuming me. When I looked back into the mirror, I was one of Omen’s Enchanted. My eyes, they were empty. Like bottomless black pits.”

She stifled a shudder, suddenly desperate for the comforting weight of the blankets she’d found suffocating only moments before. She dove under the furs beside Callan and pulled them up to her chest.

“I will never let that happen to you,” he murmured reassuringly, stroking her hair, fanned out on the pillow. She tilted her face to him and gave him a thin smile, a lingering twinge of fear still caught at the back of her throat.

“I’ve lived most of my life like one of them. Cut off from my emotions. Behaving as if nothing could cause me pain. So unwilling to let others see my fear and anger that I smothered my joy and happiness as well.” She shook her head. “I never wish to live like that again. It wasn’t living at all.”

Nova shifted on the bed, turning away from him and lowering the blanket to her hip, exposing the plane of her back to him. An invitation. Callan’s warm hand glided naturally along the curve of her side until his fingertips gripped her hip, dimpling her soft skin. The solid sensation pulled her out of her thoughts and anchored her in her body. The remnants of her fear ebbing at the hunger in his touch and how her body responded to it.

A pleased hum rumbled in Callan’s chest. “You’re very much alive now, Starlight.”

“Starlight?” She glanced back at him, a smile tugging at her lips. “Have I been gifted a pet name?”

Callan appeared bashful, looking away as if perhaps he hadn’t meant to say the name aloud. He met her gaze again after a beat, adoration and desire shining in his dark eyes.

“It’s been in the back of my mind since our sea voyage. You glow like Illora. And, to me, you’re a beacon.” He tightened his grip on her, sliding over the sheets closer to her. His hard shaft, hot and heavy, pressed against her ass. “A waypoint guiding me home.” He leaned down, placing a kiss over the scars on her shoulder.

A shudder rippled through her. “I want to share every part of myself with you,” she whispered.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” Callan murmured, his lips ghosting along her neck to the space below her ear. “You can trust me, my love.”