BooksBarbecue
Back The Night and Its Moon Save as PDF
Chapters (64)
  1. Front Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Contents
  6. Pronunciation Guide
  7. Prologue
  8. Part One
  9. One
  10. Two
  11. Three
  12. Four
  13. Five
  14. Six
  15. Seven
  16. Eight
  17. Nine
  18. Ten
  19. Eleven
  20. Twelve
  21. Thirteen
  22. Part Two
  23. Fourteen
  24. Fifteen
  25. Sixteen
  26. Seventeen
  27. Eighteen
  28. Nineteen
  29. Twenty
  30. Twenty-One
  31. Twenty-Two
  32. Twenty-Three
  33. Part Three
  34. Twenty-Four
  35. Twenty-Five
  36. Twenty-Six
  37. Twenty-Seven
  38. Twenty-Eight
  39. Twenty-Nine
  40. Thirty
  41. Thirty-One
  42. Thirty-Two
  43. Thirty-Three
  44. Thirty-Four
  45. Thirty-Five
  46. Part Four
  47. Thirty-Six
  48. Thirty-Seven
  49. Thirty-Eight
  50. Thirty-Nine
  51. Forty
  52. Forty-One
  53. Forty-Two
  54. Forty-Three
  55. Forty-Four
  56. Forty-Five
  57. Forty-Six
  58. Forty-Seven
  59. Epilogue
  60. Excerpt from The Sun and Its Shade
  61. The Night and Its Moon Playlist
  62. Acknowledgments
  63. About the Author
  64. Back Cover

Despite the smell of the road and the horses outside, the bishop was clouded by a choking perfume of white musk and lemons. There was a falseness to the lemon scent that made Nox’s stomach turn, and she knew from the years of uncomfortable mutterings that she wasn’t the only one who struggled to keep her breakfast down after the bishop had left his stench throughout the orphanage. The tangy smell and its link to the church drove the children to hate the presence of citrus if ever it was brought from the coast.

Nox parted her lips slightly, breathing through her mouth.

The bishop did not acknowledge Nox, but she’d expected as much. He never did, no matter how often he visited. At least the thin, balding man kept his visits brief—a small blessing.

Agnes accepted the bishop’s traveling cloak. She looked fleetingly at Nox as she said, “Please hang this in my office, and be sure everything is in order.”

Though the matron said “everything,” only one thing was truly implied.

Nox nodded. She did exactly what was expected of her and nothing more. Her bronze skin was a showcase to the church of the holy nature of Farleigh and its reach beyond Farehold’s borders. She served as a living advertisement of the matron’s magnanimity and charity.

She accepted the bishop’s cloak, fully aware how her very presence served as a display of tokenism as her tanned fingers contrasted against the white and gold of his fabric. It was more than a little insulting, but she didn’t mind being trotted out like a show pony if it meant she could then disappear for the rest of the day. It was better than staying amidst the others and being subjected to their miserable monthly traditions. She dipped her chin slightly in obligatory respect. She caught the bishop’s flicker of approval as she departed.

The bishop would be gone within an hour or two. The man typically breezed through the manor, made notes of any new additions to the population, inspected the premises, and dutifully inquired whether any of the small magics had manifested in any of the children. If everything went according to plan, the bishop would leave empty-handed once more.

It had been a long time since the manor had seen a faeling, as the last young boy with beautiful elfin features and a gentle disposition had one traitorous attribute betraying half of his heritage. He may not have inherited the pointed ears of the fair folk, but his forest-green irises had been nearly double the size of his human peers’. Any careful student would see his eyes as evidence of his lineage. She wondered if this was the fate the matrons feared for Amaris. Though she lacked the sharpened canines and slender point of her ears, everyone who laid eyes on Amaris suspected her to be fae around the edges.