11. Eleven
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.
“That’s not true,” he said, repeating it several times, desperate to convince her.
“I’ve been avoiding everyone. Even you. I’m so sorry.”
She gripped his cloak and kissed him tenderly before laying her head against his chest once more. They stood quietly for a time, her breath gradually slowing to match the steady beat of his heart.
“It’s exhausting,” she said finally. “Feeling like a stranger everywhere you go.”
It was a sentiment Callan knew all too well.
Nivali was a part of him, and he knew he would be tethered to the land forever.
But he’d spent the better part of his life a stranger in strange lands, living out of a saddlebag and sleeping rough under a blanket of stars.
Nova tensed and pulled away to look up at him.
“You feel the same,” she observed, and he was briefly taken aback by her ability to read him.
“You are my home,” he murmured, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist. “I belong wherever you are.”
A smile bloomed under her reddened nose. “You know, for a warrior, you’re terribly romantic.”
“Where would you like to go?” he asked, shrugging off the compliment. “To put down roots?” The freezing rain had changed over to heavy flakes, but neither took notice.
“Silvergard,” Nova replied without hesitation. “It’s the only place I’ve felt at home since arriving in Aemoria. Nox and Lucan, they’re my family.”
“Then it’s settled,” Callan said, with a resolute nod.
“Once this business is taken care of, you and I will return to Silvergard. I’ll spend my nights doing your bidding and my days doing the same.
And when I reach the end of my life, I’ll die content knowing I brought you some measure of happiness. ”
“You’ll come with me? I can’t stand the thought of being apart from you again. And Silvergard is actually beautiful, despite what folk say—”
“Of course, I will,” he answered before she could list off any further justifications.
The five months they’d been apart had been excruciating, and that was before they had both claimed the bond.
For him, separation was no longer even a faint possibility.
Besides, he’d already seen the rest of the Realm.
Silvergard was the one territory he had yet to fully explore.
Nova relaxed into his arms, and he pressed a kiss to her temple, thanking the gods she chose him as her safe space.
“Thorn has received responses from all the Nobles,” he said.
Nova tilted her head up. “And?”
“They’ve all agreed to come. The Council meeting will take place at Pyralis in one week.”
Nova sighed, pulling out of his embrace but sliding her hands into his, her reddened fingers like icicles against his palms.
“I suppose we’d better come up with a plan then.” She sniffed once and tugged him along the dock, leading him away from the angry sea and back toward the warmth and comfort of the Estate.