39. Thirty-Nine
Thirty-Nine
Nova stared wordlessly at the table. Nox’s charcoal-dusted fingers transferred smudges to her skin as he brushed a thumb reassuringly over the back of her hand.
“All of this,” he said, gesturing to the room around them, “the throne, the responsibility—was thrust upon me. I had no aspirations of being a Noble Lord. In fact, I wanted nothing more than to escape Silvergard. To escape those who had been the cause of my misery. But, in a heartbeat, I went from third in line to wearing the crown.”
Nox was quiet for a moment, faint creases forming between his brows as he nodded to himself.
“I would never force this role upon you,” he continued. “I won’t deny I’ve grown into the position. The good I’ve been able to do has brought me some fulfillment. But if I don’t step aside, I would be standing between you and your birthright.”
The prospect of ruling over a territory of loyal subjects who looked to her for safety and guidance terrified her.
Still, Nova couldn’t deny what she’d felt when she sat upon the Lunar Throne so Nox could paint her portrait months earlier.
Though she’d envisioned herself being struck down by a bolt of lightning, she’d instead been overcome with a sense of rightness.
Of purpose. As though she was exactly where she was meant to be.
Nova smiled faintly and pulled her hand out from under her uncle’s, resting it next to her gloved hand in her lap, scarred fingers clutching the fabric of her skirts.
Nox looked to Lucan, who leaned a shoulder against the wall. The commander straightened and cleared his throat as Nox stood.
“I will leave you to your decision,” Nox said. “And it is your decision.”
With that, the pair left her alone in the Council room. Nova tipped her head back, gripping the arms of the chair as she observed the night sky through the glass ceiling. Her gaze settled on Illora for a breath before her eyes fell shut in the childish practice of wishing upon a star.
Now that she knew the legend of Illora, it made perfect sense. Her wishes had always been more like prayers for aid or guidance. Please make Father better. Please show me what Mother would do. Now, she could think of only one, selfish desire: Please bring Callan home.
Eyes still closed, head resting against the seat back, she brought her fist to her chest, gently kneading the space directly over her heart.
How could she expect herself to make such an important decision when she’d been half a person in the few short days he’d been gone?
Callan had his own choices standing before him, and she’d tried to leave him be.
Still, she may have sent a message or two into his mind without thinking.
I love you. I miss you. Come back to me.
They couldn’t communicate outright in that way.
Not how she could with Nox, now holding entire conversations while on opposite sides of the Estate.
If Callan was close enough to her, she would sometimes catch a word here and there.
She couldn’t deny the thrill she felt each time the word mine danced across her thoughts when he spilled himself with his cock buried between her thighs.
His fingers tangled in her hair or laid at the base of her throat.
She had no doubt they belonged to one another. Still, she wondered, was the magic that tethered Callan to Nivali, the vow that inked his wrists, stronger than their bond?
The door to the Council room burst open and Callan entered, delivered to her like some celestial gift. In a breath, he had crossed the room and sat kneeling, as he so often did, at her feet. The familiar scent of him, like freshly fallen snow, surrounded her as she gathered him in an embrace.
“Your parents, are they well?” she asked, breathless as she released him.
Callan clasped her hands, giving her a sad smile. “My mother is much improved. But my father . . .” His face fell and he shook his head. “Only time will tell if he’s truly lost to us.”
Nova leaned forward, cupping his jaw and pressing a soft kiss against his still-frowning lips.
“Then I will ask Illora to watch over him.” She brushed her thumb along the rasp of dark hair on his chin.
Callan nodded, his eyes flicking toward the ceiling.
“You have decided then?” he asked, understandably eager for a change of topic. “Nox will relinquish the Lunar Throne, and you will rule Silvergard?”
“Yes,” Nova replied. “Though not straight away. There will be a meeting on tomorrow’s full moon to make the announcement to the gentry.
A pamphlet will be distributed throughout the city to notify the Common Fae, with messengers carrying the news to the districts.
The ceremony naming me Noble Lady of Silvergard will be held on the next full moon. ”
Nova ran out of breath and swallowed past the emotion welling up at the back of her throat.
“There is much to be done before then.” Her voice came out breathy, a slight tremble dancing along the edges. “To say nothing of all that must be done after I assume the throne.”
Callan squeezed her hands in his.
“I—I don’t know if I can do this, Callan.”
“You can, my love.”
“I know nothing of being a ruler.”
“Nor do I.” A low chuckle rumbled in his chest.
Nova’s gaze, heavy with expectation, rose to meet his.
“But I will be by your side as we make sense of it.”
“But—” Nova protested, struggling to find words with the light, giddy feeling bubbling within her chest.
“Nivali is my past. You are my future.”
“But your vow.”
“My vow requires me to defend Nivali, with my life if necessary. I can keep my vow without acting as Noble Lord of the Winter Court. Thorn has that well in hand.”
He rose to his feet, pulling Nova from her seat to stand. Hooking an arm around her waist, he drew her against him, always her anchor when she’d come untethered.
“Whatever you desire, Starlight, you will have it. Whether you wish to continue as we are, bonded body and soul, or to formalize our union with a temple rite and a grand celebration. In whatever way you’ll have me, I am yours.”
He kissed her then, and Nova melted into him, a warmth spreading from her chest along her limbs as she allowed herself to imagine a pleasant future. For them. For Silvergard. And, at last, for Aemoria.
The throne room hummed with Noble folk crammed together, shoulder to shoulder, the throng stretching from the base of the dais to the far wall.
Nova stood at the foot of the steps leading up to the platform.
The excited whispers of the gathered folk filled her ears as everyone eyed her uncle, waiting for him to begin.
When Nox finally stood, a hush fell over the room, and he addressed the crowd.
“Over the past many moons, most of you have, at one time or another, seen a new member of my Court: Nova.” Nox extended a lithe hand in her direction, and the weight of countless eyes upon her set the tiny hairs at the back of her neck prickling.
Holding her breath for a beat, she squared her shoulders and focused her attention on the full moon, ripe and bright against the backdrop of the night sky beyond the glass overhead.
“While some of you may have chatted with her at a dinner party sometime after her arrival in Silvergard, many of you may not have heard of her until after the incident along the Gloaming Sea. When General Idrian, a decorated soldier, betrayed my trust and sought to usurp the Lunar Throne, Nova risked everything, ending Idrian’s life and squashing his rebellion, before most Lunar folk even knew her name.
“By now, it is a name known by every citizen of Silvergard. For not only did Nova protect the Lunar Court from General Idrian, it was she who slayed the Shadowbringer, ending the plague of his darkness upon our land once and for all.”
The hall erupted with thunderous applause, and Nova had the uncanny sensation that she was outside of herself, hovering somewhere near the ceiling and watching the scene unfold from afar.
As Nox tamped down the cheers with his hand raised in the air and continued to praise her, her mind wandered from the present moment. Eyelids fluttering shut, she drifted away from the hall and into a memory.
When she’d first awoken, after death had claimed her, some asked if she remembered anything from her time between Realms. At first, she’d said no.
At the time, that had been true. She recalled nothing but warmth and a blinding light.
A vague motherly voice speaking words she could not bring to mind.
But slowly, her memory of her time between life and death had crystallized.
The warmth and light had been Illora. The goddess had appeared before her, her long hair and white robes billowing out around her as if she were suspended in water.
A smile graced her lovely face, and when she spoke to Nova, it was in her mind as her uncle often did.
“You have given much, my child. And yet, there is more you must give.”
“What more can I possibly give?” Nova begged, her eyes welling up with tears. “I have already given everything. My life. My love.”
The goddess’s lips drooped in a frown, fine brows knitting together on an ageless face, as if Nova’s pain pained her in turn.
“Your life I can restore.” Illora tilted her head to one side. “But it will not save you.”
“I don’t understand.” Nova shook her head, a weariness settling in her bones.
Illora reached out, soft fingers brushing away Nova’s tears.
“The Shadowbringer is dead, but, buried deep, a greater darkness still lives. Festering within Aemoria. Unless it is vanquished, it will consume you—consume Aemoria—until all that is good in this world has been destroyed.”
Nova flinched, returning to herself. To Nox’s strong voice reverberating through the throne room. She tossed her head, as if the action could erase the vision. Erase the goddess’s warning.
“What very few know is that Nova has another name.” Her uncle paused, his charcoal eyes flicking to her for permission to proceed. Nova inhaled a steadying breath and dipped her chin.
“That name is Elsever,” Nox proclaimed proudly. “She is my niece and the rightful heir to the throne of Silvergard.”
Silence hung over the crowd as the folk absorbed what had been said, perhaps finally understanding the uncanny familiarity of the stranger who had taken up residence within the Noble Estate.
Nox motioned to Nova, and she gathered her skirts to ascend the platform.
On the dais, she took her uncle’s proffered hand and turned to face the crowd.
“I hereby announce that I will relinquish the Lunar Throne to the rightful Noble Lady of Silvergard on the next full moon. It has been a great honor to serve as your Noble Lord. I know you will all show Lady Nova the same respect and loyalty you have always shown me. That you will extend to her the same devotion she has already shown the folk of the Lunar Court.”
The hall filled with deafening applause, and Nova plastered a smile on her face.
Her gaze flitted about the room, dancing over familiar faces in the crowd.
The members of the Lunar Council, who had carefully guarded the secret of her paternity.
Bryn, who had asked to stay on as Nova’s personal guard though the life debt she owed had been repaid.
Lucan, his face impassive though he stood with a hand laid over his heart in a show of respect, pride shining in his amber eyes.
And finally, Callan. Her mate. Her shield and her blade. The great love of her life.
Nova blinked away the tears gathering along her lashes, the smile on her face beginning to falter as the applause from the delighted crowd droned on and on.
Nox released her to join in, and her gloved hand dropped to her side.
Nova grabbed a fistful of her skirts and squeezed the fabric tightly.
All sound fell away, leaving only a droning hum in her ears and a spark of pain, smoldering like an ember, in the palm of her hand.