Page 24 of Death Will Follow

Nova nodded, recalling the odd sensation of passing through the trunk of the great tree in Pyralis.

“The principles are the same, traveling quickly between two points. But rather than relying on an existing portal, Omen conjures portals by calling shadows to him.”

Nova glanced at the far side of the meadow where the morning sun cast tall shadows of the evergreens, stretching like fingers over the grass and snow along the edge of the forest. She locked eyes with Bryn, who nodded in silent agreement. They sprang up off of the rock as one and strode to the opposite side of the field, where Nova positioned herself in the cool shade of a towering pine.

“What now?” she asked, eyeing the shadows painting the ground before her.

“I don’t exactly know.” Bryn shrugged.

After half an hour of coaxing the shadows as if they were aloof cats, Nova’s mind wearied, a painful ache blooming behind her eyes. She’d accomplished nothing. Huffing a frustrated breath, she muttered a curse, digging the toe of her boot into the yellowed grass at her feet.

“Don’t give up already,” Bryn said. “Try once more, and then we’ll head back to the hall for breakfast.”

Nova’s stomach rumbled at the mention of food, and she resisted the urge to call it quits.

Quieting her mind a final time, she focused on the cool sensation of the shade surrounding her. An odd noise filled her ears, a low droning cutting in and out, but, as before, nothing happened.

“Enough,” she grumbled. “It’s useless.” She spun around and stalked toward Bryn, who had been observing her from a distance.

Her friend stared at her wide-eyed.

“What?” Nova asked, looking down and self-consciously scanning her body.

“The shadows.” Bryn shook her head and blinked hard. “They were rippling. With a proper trainer, I think you might be able to conjure shadow portals.” Bryn clapped Nova roughly between her shoulders. “But for now, let’s eat.”

Nova nodded, a dazed smile on her face as a surge of exhilaration ran through her.

Eleven

Scanning the horizon, Callan hastened along the slick wooden docks jutting out into the cove from the shoreline. He’d awoken to find Nova already gone—again—her side of the bed cold. She’d been distant since their meeting with Thorn nearly a week past, rising before the sun and inventing reasons to head off on her own. Callan respected her need to be alone, but he couldn’t deny that he missed their closeness. The thread tethering his soul to hers had drawn him to the harbor in search of her.

The wind whipped at his cloak and threw his dark hair into his eyes, drops of freezing rain stinging his cheeks. Finally, he spotted her, spine rigid, standing at the end of the far dock and staring out at the dark, choppy water.

Callan thought he saw her body tense at the sound of his footsteps approaching her from behind. He paused and spoke her name loud enough to be heard over the howling wind before he joined her at the edge of the pier.

“I wondered where you’d gone,” he said by way of greeting, lowering his voice as he leaned in close to her ear.

Nova glanced up at him but quickly looked away, returning her gaze to the churning waves.

“I’m sorry,” she said, voice tight. He hooked a finger under her chin and tilted her face to his.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he assured her. “I wanted to be sure you’re well. You’ve been different.” Callan dropped his hand to her shoulder and squeezed gently.

In an instant, her arms went around his waist, her face buried in his chest. She didn’t speak for several minutes, just held him tightly while he stroked her hair. When she pulled out of his embrace, she ran the back of her hand over her cheeks, wet from either tears or the rain.

“I never wished for anyone to know who my father is. And now, it seems the entire Realm will know before long.” She scoffed and tipped her face toward the sky. “I have to believe most will react in the same manner as your uncle.”

“You are not your father.” Callan took her hand and brushed his thumb over the soft skin of her wrist. “There’s so much more to you than the blood running in your veins. If anything, you’re like the man who raised you: kind and loving.”

Nova bowed her head toward her boots, avoiding his eye.

“A few days past, Bryn and I decided to see if I have any other abilities. She allowed me to try to read her thoughts, and I could. Somewhat. But, ever since then, even without trying, I can feel what those around me are feeling.”

She shook her head slowly, her eyes still downcast.

“I used to imagine the unease folk felt when they saw me. But now, Callan, I can feel it. Truly feel it. It’s like a blow to my stomach every time.” She looked up then, her steel eyes glassy for an instant before plump teardrops rolled down both cheeks. “I’m a monster,” she gritted out before holding her breath, as if she could dam her emotions. Keep them from spilling out.

Callan drew her to him, murmuring softly.