12. Twelve #2
Nova draped her arms over his broad shoulders, curling her fingers around the nape of his neck.
She tilted her head up to him, and he kissed her, deeply, parting her lips with a soft swipe of his tongue, still tasting faintly of apples.
Nova lost herself in the sensation of the kiss, eager to forget the somber reason for their return to Pyralis if only for a moment.
“Cal?” A familiar voice came from the other side of the room, and Callan pulled back, twisting to face the door.
Nova peeked out from behind her mate’s tall frame to find Evander leaning a shoulder against the doorjamb.
She sensed Evander’s initial surprise and the barb of anger that followed when he saw her.
Odd, she thought. Evander had learned she and Callan were together when he came to their aid in Silvergard five months past. Was he jealous?
“Ah, Nova.” Evander smiled, but the corners of his mouth sagged slightly, more grimace than grin. “I wasn’t expecting to see you.” He reached out, and Callan clasped forearms with him before clapping his cousin on the back.
“I wish we were here under happier circumstances,” Callan said.
“Yes, well . . .” Evander scanned the ornate mural painted on the ceiling, seemingly avoiding Nova.
Just then, Bryn popped her head into the room, drawing Evander’s attention. Her body followed, quiver slung across her shoulder and bow in hand. Bryn breezed past Evander without sparing a glance in his direction.
“Here you are,” Bryn sighed, as if she’d been searching high and low. “I doze off for a moment, and everyone disappears? With this many soldiers around, there should be somewhere for me to get in some target practice.”
Evander stood a bit taller behind Bryn, eyeing her weapon.
“We have a training field. I can show you if you’d like.” He flashed one of his signature smiles, flaunting a row of perfect teeth. “I’m an archer myself.”
Bryn finally took notice of him once he spoke, regarding Evander with an arched brow. “You don’t look like you’ve ever held a bow, let alone shot one.”
Callan choked on a laugh, and Nova elbowed him discreetly in the side. Evander’s mouth fell open for a beat, but he recovered quickly, his smirk returning as swiftly as it had gone.
“I bet I could teach you a thing or two,” he drawled.
“Bryn, this is—” Callan didn’t get a chance to complete the introduction.
“Evander,” his cousin interrupted. Taking Bryn’s hand, Evander leaned down to kiss it, but Bryn pulled out of his grip before his lips could make contact.
“I prefer not to be kissed by strange males,” she said bluntly before pushing past him and leaving the room.
Evander remained bent forward at the waist for a breath until Bryn poked her head back inside the library.
“Are you coming or not?” she asked, then left without waiting for a response.
Evander raised his brows and smiled slyly before walking backward and disappearing into the hallway. More than anything, the heir of Pyralis relished a challenge.
A short time later, they left the library, and Nova followed Callan up the stone steps leading to the covered parapet walk with a view of the courtyard on one side and the autumn forest on the other.
Sentries hurried past them as they leaned against the stone wall under streaks of orange and pink painting the edge of the sky.
With the dinner hour nearing, soldiers settled down around dozens of small cook fires in the courtyard below.
“Do you recall the last time we stood together on this wall?” Nova asked.
“I recall it was much less crowded then.”
Callan pressed a hand to her lower back, and they flattened themselves against the cold stone as a group of soldiers rushed by. He slid close to her, their elbows touching as they stood side by side, leaning on the wall.
“We barely knew each other,” he continued. “You never would have admitted as much, but I knew you were frightened.”
“Frightened?” Nova huffed a laugh. “I was terrified.”
“You were so . . . guarded,” Callan mused. “I never would have known if not for this.”
He brushed his fingers along the curve of her throat, and her pulse quickened at his touch, a delicate flutter beneath his fingertips.
“I was so desperate to prove you could trust me. That you were safe with me.” Callan narrowed his eyes, and, for a moment, it seemed as though he was looking through her. Perhaps remembering her as she had been then.
If she met the version of herself from nearly eight moons past, the hopeful female newly arrived in Aemoria, Nova imagined she’d scarcely recognize her.
Then, she’d feared the unknown. Now, she knew full well what this world and its folk were capable of.
Knew the danger that lay ahead of her. Nova glanced past Callan to a group of sentries eyeing her—and her dagger—with the uneasy vigilance previously reserved for Callan.
Turning her attention back to her mate, Nova gifted him with a smile. “I trusted you completely. Practically from the moment we met. Rather foolish of me, blindly trusting a strange male like you.” She took his hand from where it rested on her collarbone, lacing her fingers with his.
“Is that so?” Callan shifted his stance to face her, taking stock of how far away the nearest sentries stood before wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her tightly against him.
The smell of him, like frozen midnight, surrounded her, and she tipped her head back as he leaned down to kiss her.
A short, sharp blast from a horn rang out, announcing the arrival of visitors.
The great wooden gates rumbled open, and two riders entered the courtyard atop enormous gray horses with flowing silvery manes.
Nova pulled herself from Callan’s embrace and raced down the stairs and through the courtyard to greet her uncle and his commander.
As if sensing her approach, Nox slid down from his mount and turned, wrapping his arms around her as she crashed against him at full speed.
She stepped back after a moment, grinning as she looked him over.
He wore black leather riding pants, a high-collared jacket embroidered with silver thread, and a black wool cloak.
His long white hair was half up, not a strand out of place.
Quite a feat considering they’d traveled over land.
Most territories banned travel from Silvergard through the Realm’s portals.
“I’m so pleased to see you.” Her uncle beamed, his charcoal eyes shining.
Nova mirrored his expression as her gaze traveled to Lucan. The commander appeared to be arguing with a Pyralisin soldier who’d made the mistake of trying to confiscate his weapon.
Admitting defeat after a moment, the soldier backed away, and Lucan sauntered toward her, smirking, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
He wore the customary uniform of a soldier of Silvergard, a tunic and pants of black leather with a silver metal breastplate and metal vambraces on both arms. His normally shaggy hair had been brushed smooth and combed back out of his face, his glinting amber eyes accentuated by a thin line of charcoal.
“No guard?” Nova teased as Lucan reached her side.
“What do you take me for?” he scoffed. “There’s a small regiment setting up camp in the forest outside the wall. Would you believe the Pyralisins refused to allow them inside the Estate?”
Without warning, Lucan grabbed her around the middle and lifted her off her feet. Nova squealed in surprise, squirming uselessly until, finally, he set her back down.
Nova sensed Callan’s amusement behind her, and she twisted to face him, grabbing his hand and pulling him to her side.
“It’s good to see you again, my Lord,” Callan said, bowing respectfully to Nox.
“Please,” Nox replied with a warm smile and an extended hand. “Surely, we’re beyond such formalities.”
Callan nodded, and the two clasped forearms.
Lucan approached Callan next, offering a hearty greeting of his own, bypassing a handshake and clapping him roughly between the shoulder blades.
“Are there no barbers in the Winter Court?” Lucan teased. “Or are Nivalians simply incapable of leaving the training field long enough to shave their beards?”
Callan scrubbed a hand over his mouth and down his chin. “Suppose I am due for a trim.” He gave Lucan a playful shove.
“How was your journey?” Nova asked.
“Long,” Nox sighed. “But informative.”
“We traveled east across the Lunar Court to liaise with some of our larger forces before heading south. To get an idea of where our numbers stand,” Lucan explained. “Unfortunately, it appears some folk have left the territory. Sailing north.”
“To Raven’s Isle,” Callan guessed, exchanging a wary look with Nova. “More soldiers?”
“Not quite,” Nox replied. “Mercenaries, it seems.”
“They went willingly, then,” Nova said, disheartened that they had not yet severed her father's grip on all the folk of Silvergard. “To join him.”
“I’m afraid so.” Nox frowned. “Their loyalty lies with whoever has the most coin or the sweetest tongue. Who knows what Omen promised to tempt them.”
All at once, dozens of torches mounted around the courtyard ignited. Nova glanced up, realizing the sky had gone purple with the gathering dusk.
“We can discuss this later,” she said, shaking off her unease. “No doubt you’re tired.”
“Yes,” Callan agreed, turning to Nova. “Why don’t you ride up and see them settled, love. I’ll join you later.”
Nox and Lucan mounted their horses, and Callan offered his hands as a makeshift stirrup for Nova to settle behind Lucan on his horse’s broad back.
Her uncle and his commander were given a suite of rooms at the opposite end of the hall from Nova and Callan’s group, the walls of the shared parlor adorned with rich tapestries woven with autumnal scenes: fields of golden wheat and bountiful harvests.
Sitting on the arm of a chair, Nova observed Nox as he explored the space, carefully lifting and setting down the trinkets and baubles covering nearly every flat surface in the room.