The Sun and The Moon
The Day Guard were a boisterous lot, their ranks plush with exiled criminals from the human realm. Everything from petty thievery to murder, those who protected the Southern Hive during sunlight hours had a reputation for their ruthlessness.
Oddo had shown me a map of the grounds during one of our lessons.
The Day Guard squads were housed in two sets of barracks which framed the perimeter of the Southern Hive lands.
Set an equal distance from either encampment was Last Light, aptly named for when their shift ended and their drinking began.
“Alba, is this place safe?” I rasped, catching the eye of a small group of soldiers watching us tie up our horses. No one knew we’d left the Hive and I’d had my fair share of dangerous run-ins the last few weeks.
I pulled my plain cloak tighter as she thrust a flask into my hand. The notes of my favorite red wine rushed from the leather pouch and into the freedom of the young night.
“Bromport?” I asked before taking a long drink.
“My hometown.” She winked.
I extended the flask in her direction. “I have to be back by two in the morning.”
“Of course. But until then, we’re going to let loose.”
Slowly, my chambermaid removed her veil.
Miles of golden hair tumbled from beneath her head wrap.
She ran her hands through it, fighting with it like you would an unruly garment.
The effort sent her thin lips into a slight frown and she crinkled her button nose as she scolded her mane for disobeying.
Her cheeks sat high on her angular face, which slid down to a delicate, pointed chin.
She could have been a portrait in a hall of royals.
I held the flask out to her. “To letting loose.”
Two hours later, the off-duty soldiers of the Day Guard filled every inch of the surprisingly well-maintained tavern.
A fiddle, flute, and drum wove their braided melodies through shouted conversations from the crowded edges of the long main floor bar.
A percussion of bouts, cheers, and groans cascaded from the open-air lofted area, hosting various dice and card games.
Alba and I huddled together over our mediocre ales at a high-top near the bar. We bumped shoulders and giggled as we conspired, making up stories about the strangers in the room.
“Pickpocket,” I whispered, nudging Alba and nodding in the direction of a sun kissed, slender man. He moved like wheat in the breeze, free flowing and light. His nimble movements avoided contact as he slunk through the crowd to his group of friends.
“Oh, absolutely!” Alba giggled. I caught myself staring at her smile. I’d seen the way her eyes lit up from beneath her chambermaid robes, but seeing those blue irises paired with ale-flushed cheeks and gleaming teeth made it difficult not to stare.
I wasn’t the only one who noticed either. A few brave Day Guards had approached us, offering to get us refills or stools. We declined and sent them on their way.
The room warmed as more and more patrons entered the hall. We’d long discarded our riding cloaks. Alba wore a light blue bodice over a cream chemise. She was like a summer day in human form, from her gleaming hair to her sky-toned clothing.
I resembled her perfect opposite. My embroidered black corset left my neck, shoulders, and arms bare.
The dark fabric matched my black linen skirt and featured a slit up one side, offering a view for onlookers up my thigh.
I was the velvet night to Alba’s golden day, but other than contrasting each other, we fit in with the fashion of the few women in Last Light.
Alba nudged me. “What about that one?”
“Hm?” I searched, but the mass of men had doubled in the last ten minutes.
She subtly extended her pointed finger from the hand clutching her mug and I followed the line to the gaming loft.
Muscled, ebony arms were raised in triumph, framing a square jaw that was host to a wide, winning smile.
Thick locs were held at the base of his corded neck by a leather knot.
Extensive tattoos flowed from beneath his cream shirt and I wondered how much pain he’d endured for his art.
He was collecting his winnings when his gaze found mine.
Rougish, brown eyes flicked between myself and Alba before he excused himself from the gaming table.
“Good trouble,” was all I said into my mug as we watched the man, who appeared to be friends with everyone he passed, make his way across the loft and down the stairs toward us.
I almost spit out my swig of ale when I heard Alba mumble, “He’s courting me.”
“What?” I hid my whisper underneath a curtain of my own unkempt hair.
She nodded with a sheepish grin. “For a few months now.”
“Albaaaaa.” The ale rode on the vowels of her name and I leaned into her playfully like we’d known each other for years and years. “How did you—when did you—how long—who is he?”
My questions tumbled over each other, begging to be asked first.
She giggled and hid her words behind her mug. “His name is Shaw.”
“Well, this is impossible.” Silky words flowed from the upturned lips of Alba’s suitor.
I watched as my chambermaid cocked a brow and held back a smile that begged for release behind her tight lips.
“What is?” I replied on her behalf.
Shaw’s gaze graced me for a moment before returning to her. “I thought the sun had gone down...yet, here stands this blazing beauty among mere mortals.”
Alba and I exchanged a glance rather than audibly groaning. And despite our unimpressed expressions, Shaw pressed on, “May I bask in your glow or have you come to burn us undeserving wretches down?”
With his final word, he leaned, brawny arms folded on our table.
Alba matched his stance, leaning closer to him before saying, “Bask at your own risk.”
They shared a charged moment, lost in their silence despite the rising sound of chatter, laughter, and upbeat music filling the space.
“And who accompanies my radiant sun tonight?” Shaw’s warm brown eyes turned to me.
“This is Lyra,” Alba offered before I could speak up. She knew well enough to lie and I treasured her for it.
I gave her an appreciative smile before leaning toward her suitor. “Consider me the moon.”
A wide grin spread across his face. “Well, Lyra, moon goddess. May I steal away this beauty for a dance?”
I lifted my chin. “Good sir, no one can command the sun. She does as she wishes.”
Alba’s expression was elated but hesitant. “Will you be all right here? Just for a moment?”
I nodded to her and nearly pushed her into Shaw’s open, waiting arms. “Yes, go!”
“Be back soon!” she shouted as she departed through the crowd in the direction of the music. My cheeks hurt from smiling. I tapped my fingers on the table and let my body sway with the melody of the fiddle. The energy of the room wrapped itself around me like a warm summer breeze.
“Does the moon want to dance as well?” My body stiffened at the question. No, not the question. The voice that asked it.
I turned my head, resting my chin on my bare shoulder and found Dommik. Hidden but recognizable underneath a riding cloak, he leaned on a post beside me.
The grays and blues of his eyes battled for ownership of his gaze. His lids dropped as he scanned my outfit. The black corset suddenly felt too tight as I caught the tiniest glimpse of his tongue grazing the corner of his mouth.
Any fantasies floating atop my ale buzz quickly skittered back into hiding as I realized what his presence meant.
If he’d returned, Rhazien had as well. My heart dropped knowing I would have to face him soon.
“Lyra, was it?” he said, stepping closer. “Pretty.”
“Is he here?” I asked into my mug, knowing Dommik could hear me over the rising volume of the tavern.
One of his gloved hands reached over and stole the mug from my grasp. “No.”
“Does he know I’m here?”
The empty mug clanged as it met the tabletop. Dommik hissed an exhale at the swill. “No.”
Cheers erupted, the crowd clapping as a song came to an end. I joined as well, catching a glimpse of Alba’s golden hair amongst the strangers.
“Are you enjoying yourself, Lyra?” I could hear the smile on his lips at the alias. He said the false name again like he was trying on a new coat.
“I was,” I said as the next song inspired a rhythmic sway. “But let me guess, you’re here to haul me away?”
“I’m not thrilled to have found you here amongst this lot.” An arm wrestling match two tables away escalated beyond a playful sport into a small brawl. “And I will have to escort you back eventually,” Dommik raised a hand signaling for two more drinks from a barmaid, “but not yet.”
“Really?” I scoffed, unabashedly looking up at him for any hint of sarcasm.
“Really.” Dommik nodded with a disarming smile. “Last time I checked, no one commands the moon either.” He leaned closer, his lips hidden by his cloak and my hair. “You command me, Reyva.”
Dommik Thorne, Commander of the Southern Hive, didn’t take commands from anyone except his regent…and me.
I bit my cheek and tried to focus on the pain instead of all of the things I wanted to command him to do to me.
Dommik relieved the passing barmaid of two mugs. She fluttered her lashes and lingered, leering at the commander, but he didn’t return the attention.
He instead handed one of the ales to me, and I asked, “How is he?”
Dommik’s tankard stilled and he set it down before he could drink. “Filled with remorse and regret. Plotting how to mend things between you two.”
“I’m not sure he can.” I looked down into my own mug, happy I couldn’t see the heavy expression on my face. “Or that I want him to even try,” I admitted before taking an unladylike swig of the ale.
My senses were numbed enough to not taste its stale bite.
“Do you mean that?” Dommik asked, avoiding my curious gaze beneath his hood.
“What does it matter if I do?”
“It matters,” he assured me, his jaw set into a hard line that matched the stony disposition in his gaze.
I sighed to myself, only noticing I’d set my mug down on an unbalanced angle once it hit the floor.
“Shit!” I hissed, leaping away from the spilled liquid.
“No worry. Take mine. I’ll get a new one.”
I watched the black cape round the table as he moved to head for the main bar. He murmured something like “Oh, Lyra” before turning his back entirely.
The accident gave me a welcome moment of respite. I didn’t think Dommik would press it again, but I did need to consider his question.
Did I want Rhazien to try and repair things with me?
Knowing what Rhazien had done tainted every feeling I had about him. But should one indiscretion erase so much good?
As a mortal, my time is fleeting. But my future with Rhazien could last decades, centuries, eons. Would this sour, moldy feeling soften with time? Or would it always be there, festering within me?
Out of my list of current problems, this one was avoidable for at least the next hour or so. The ale numbed me from the inside out and a delicious buzz spread through my limbs.
“I was sent to save you.” A man who perfectly met my height, with dark hair and kind eyes, approached the table.
“Me?” My head swiveled.
“Yes! Lyra? I was sent by the sun.”