Page 12 of When the Moon Met the Sun

“My lady?” he asked, still holding out his hand. That was when I finally noticed that he, like Teagan, had a winding, swirling brown pattern on the back of his hand that was climbing up his arm. Where Teagan’s marking had seemed sharper and more angled, his was all soft swoops, though his seemed to cover less of the length of his arm than Teagan’s did.

I cleared my throat then reached for his hand, figuring if I refused it wouldn’t reflect well on my intentions or my character. Yet the moment my hand touched his, I had to hold back a gasp—it had felt like lightning had ignited under my skin.

I quickly brushed it off as being my zirilium starting to build up. There was no way it could be anything other than that. Especially since this male was Southern.

Not to mention I was to get married to the King of the South soon.

Teagan shut the door to the carriage once I sat in the seat across from the male, who I assumed couldn’t be more than a couple years older than I was.

Shortly after the door had shut, I heard the reins of the horses snap, and we jerked forward into motion. I quickly moved closer to the window and shoved the curtain out of the way, watching my father, Hugo, Dimitri, and Aurora grow smaller and smaller the further we rode away, all but my father waving.

I watched out the window for what felt like hours as we traveled further away from everything I’d ever known. I watched as the only people I cared about in the entire world disappeared from view, then stared at Gatlyn Castle until the Northern flag flying high on top also disappeared from my line of sight.

It seemed we were going the long way around Hollis, not through it, but I could still see it far off—the tall towers withbalconies and ledges that us winged fae flew into, as well as the bridges connecting all of the tallest buildings together for easier access. The city where I’d been raised, where I met my best friend, and where I’d gone to study the people who lived there and made connections. Tears threatened to fill my eyes as I watched that city built in the sky slowly vanish across the horizon. And all too soon, I was farther from home than I had ever been, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever see it again.

Sighing, I let the curtain fall closed and wiped a single tear from my cheek that had somehow managed to escape, despite my fortified mental walls. I shifted uncomfortably in the small space, tucking my wings in tight to my body, but I still felt squished. Though, I also wasn’t willing to move any closer to the stranger I was sharing air with, so I remained close to the window.

This carriage was obviously not built for fae with wings, I thought.

“Uncomfortable?” the male asked, and that’s when I realized he had been observing me this entire time.

Suddenly embarrassed, I felt my cheeks and the pointed tips of my ears flush with color as I slightly flared my wings, then tucked them back in. “In more ways than one,” I mumbled to myself in the long dead Northern language, Nolvym.

I had found books written in the dead language around age ten, hidden away in the royal library, and decided to teach it to myself. Dimitri had never understood why I cared enough, nobody alive spoke it anymore—not after the entire continent agreed to only use the common language. Though, that was shortly before this war began, all those centuries ago.

Dimitri didn’t seem to understand that speaking Nolvym made me feel closer to our immortal ancestors, made me feel closer to the time of peace they had gotten to experience. It made it easier to imagine myself there.

I didn’t let myself think too hard about the expression that passed across the male’s face at my quiet remark.

For the next few minutes we rode in a peaceful, yet slightly tense silence. I made sure to keep my expression flat, passive.

“So, who all was present in telling you goodbye? If I’m not mistaken, I counted a total of only four fae, and no guards,” the male asked abruptly, interrupting the moment of quiet.

It was an effort not to roll my eyes at the question. There couldn’t be a good reason for him to be inquiring about me personally.

Ignoring him, I turned back to the window. Although I could barely see out of the window with the sheer curtains in the way, I stared on.

Shifting to face me more fully, he tried again. “What was it like being raised in the North, Princess?” he asked, his voice staying calm and level, even though I imagine my silence wasn’t the answer he had been wanting. But if he thought I was going to start trusting Southerners now, he was sorely mistaken.

I remained silent. I wasn’t sure what he was trying to get at, but I needed time to think in order to forge a plan. I’d be mild and respectful when necessary, but that doesn’t include small talk with a stranger that I’d probably never see again after we arrived in the South.

He sighed, then spoke again, still staring at me. “Listen, I understand you have no reason to trust me, but I will be a great ally to you in the South, so we might as well start working together sooner rather than later.”

I cleared my throat to hide the laugh that threatened to erupt from my throat.The audacity.

I ignored him.

Though his voice never grew louder, the slight shift in his tone gave away his frustration as he said, “If you won’t tell me about yourself, then I’ll do it for you, based on what I’ve observedin our short time together,” he declared. “You keep your circle small—whether that’s been an active choice or not, I do not know. You love the city you grew up in, and probably feel sick leaving it like this. You don’t trust anybody but yourself right now, which I understand—from what I’ve heard, you were just as blindsided by this ordeal as the Southern royals were. And lastly, you’re terrible at hiding daggers.”

I snapped my eyes to his, shocked at the accuracy of his words. I met his eyes head on for the first time, and suddenly I felt like he could see straight into my soul with just one look.

Before I could open my mouth to speak, he held up one of my twelve daggers and dangled it in front of me, before pulling it back and inspecting it.

“Your right sleeve hung slightly lower than your left, so spotting it was simple. Lifting it off of you when I offered you a hand, even more so. You definitely have a lot to learn, Princess.”

I felt the surge of emotions in the same moment as my zirilium began to sing under my skin, asking to be released. Anger, frustration, grief—all of it swirled around in my heart and head until I couldn’t think clearly.

In the next breath, I unsheathed the dagger I had stashed in my left boot and pointed the tip of it right at the hollow of the male’s throat. To my shock, one side of his mouth lifted up in an ungodly, handsome smirk, flashing that dimple.

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