Page 9 of Death Will Follow

After a welcome bath, she dressed herself in a simple silk gown with loose straps that hung off her shoulders, the fabric a purple so dark it was nearly black. She exited her chamber and made her way to Bryn’s room, her low-heeled boots clacking on the stone floor as she went.

Bryn sat at the vanity with her back to the door when Nova entered. She spun at the sound of the latch, her expression sheepish when she met Nova’s eyes. Bryn already looked much improved. Her straight, brown hair was clean, falling halfway down her back, and a healthy glow had returned to her cheeks. She had dressed in a pair of black breeches and a fitted blouse.

“You’re looking better,” Nova remarked, noting the tray of empty dishes resting on the bed.

“I’m feeling better,” Bryn replied, smoothing a hand over her hair. She threw a glance over her shoulder to the mirror behind her. “I’m embarrassed to say I’ve been looking at myself.”

A smile crept across her face and she reached up, laying her fingers over her lips.

“How strange it feels to smile again after so long. Does it look odd?” she asked, again meeting Nova’s eye.

“No. It’s lovely.” Nova took the chair from behind the writing desk and carried it to the vanity, situating herself beside Bryn. “Are you comfortable here?”

“It’s so quiet.” Bryn glanced around, searching the corners of the room. “Normally, your father’s voice is in my mind. Giving orders. Harvesting information.” She pressed her fingertips to her forehead. “Sometimes he takes control of my sight to see through my eyes. But now, that connection is broken. I hear nothing but my own thoughts.”

“I’m very pleased to hear that.” Nova said, straightening her spine at the mention of her father’s abilities.

“Your friend is suspicious of me, but I am no longer a threat. I swear it.”

Nova scanned Bryn’s hazel eyes. She had pitied Bryn in her weakened state. With the female seemingly regaining her strength rapidly, Nova knew it was prudent to remain on guard.

“You freed me. I’m in your debt, and I vow to serve you until that debt is repaid. A life for a life.”

Bryn leaned forward, and Nova’s right hand went instinctively to the dagger sheathed at her hip. Bryn paused briefly, taking note of the weapon before lifting Nova’s left hand and brushing a chaste kiss against her knuckles. When Bryn pulled away, a delicate silver band shaped into a leafy vine remained on Nova’s middle finger.

“To seal my vow,” Bryn explained, releasing Nova from her gentle hold and clasping her hands together in her lap.

“Oh, of course.” Nova stood from her seat. “I’m headed to the library to meet with my uncle, Nox. Would you like to come?”

“If you think it’s all right. Don’t want to upset the growly one.”

“Don’t worry about Lucan. Not long ago, he thought I was a credible threat to Silvergard. He’ll come around.”

Nova motioned for Bryn to follow, and together, they made their way downstairs.

Five

Nox sat hunched over a text at a table littered with discarded books, the fingers of one hand buried in his white hair as he flipped through the pages. If the empty teapot and a crumb-covered tray were any indication, he’d sequestered himself in the library for several hours. Lucan stood nearby, dressed in the more formal uniform of Nox’s Guard and leaning against the fireplace surround as he stared into the lapping flames. As Bryn and Nova approached, he strode with purpose to Nox’s side.

Nox stood and bowed politely.

“I’m pleased to see you’re feeling better,” he said, nodding at Bryn.

“Yes, Your Grace. You’ve been very kind.”

On the way downstairs, Nova had explained that Nox was the Noble Lord of Silvergard, and Lucan, the commander of his Guard and his most trusted advisor.

“What are you reading?” Nova asked, poking at the edge of a dusty tome so ancient it seemed on the verge of disintegrating before her eyes.

“I’ve been doing some research, and I think I may have a lead in the mystery of the blinding light.”

Nox spun the book on the smooth surface of the table to face her. Nova leaned forward, but her eyes snapped up to him immediately. Elegant characters looped gracefully across the page: a language she’d never seen before.

“Ancient Silvergardian,” he explained. “I believe what Lucan and I witnessed was the Light of Illora.”

“Illora?” Nova asked, running a fingertip over the strange script. “Like the star?”

“You know the legend, then.” Nox grinned. “I’d only ever heard of the Light in stories I was told as a child. If it truly exists, it’s incredibly rare.”