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Back The Night and Its Moon
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

The first step in her job was nearly done. Her eyes abandoned the tap house altogether, ignoring the amused barkeep, the gaze of the men, the eyes on her bare skin, and the envious looks of the women, who wore far more appropriate clothing than she had. Nox lifted her cup, studying the wine in her glass as the first chorus ended. The second verse began, and like clockwork, the captain was standing. If she knew anything of timing, she knew he wouldn’t rush to her. There was an order to this dance, as predictable and important as any waltz. His men were cheering on some good-hearted mixtures between encouragement and envy, mostly unintelligible hybrids between grunts and cheers as the captain worked his way around them. It would take him the length of the verse to acknowledge his men, pat their shoulders, accept their envy and move. Slowly, he approached—bypassing the subtlety of opening pawns, he went right to his knight on his own. By the beginning of the second chorus, he was leaning against the bar, ever the picture of suave relaxation.

Eramus was just as the girls described, save for a curious, innocent quality. His golden hair was cut a little shorter than that of most men of the age. His locks were a bit curly, hanging to his cheekbones. His eyes were a bright, sky-blue color that stood out against his hair in a nearly virginal halo. Eramus didn’t possess the rakish, bawdry handsomeness of her duke. Instead, he had a disarming angelic aura about him that the women had not explained when describing him to her. He asked if he could buy her a drink, and she tipped her nearly full glass to him.

Nox smiled, pressing her lips to her glass, allowing it to tug her mouth open ever so slightly. She waited until his gaze snagged on the shape of her mouth.

“I have a drink, but perhaps instead you could tell me your name?”

He twinkled wickedly. “I’m Eramus, but you can call me ‘sir,’ depending upon how the night pans out.”

It was the second time in one night she should have been handed an award. If a trouper had spotted her performance, they would have shaken her hand and whisked her away to a life in the theater. Years at the Selkie had been an education in acting. It was a battle not to cringe or laugh at the man who fancied himself terribly dominant and charming. She recognized the angelic face for what it was: the beautiful coloration of a venomous snake. Disarming, attractive loveliness was how the goddess’s most dangerous creations hid in plain sight under the guise of beauty. After all, it was how she operated, wasn’t it?