Page 24 of All the Chaos of Constellations
“I made no such promise to you.” Novalise attempted to scold him, but her words lacked conviction, coming out of her mouth as nothing more than a harsh whisper.
The four males were crowding around her, smothering her, vying for her attention.
The lanky male from Galefell shifted himself to the forefront of the circle, nearly stepping on her gown in the process. She clutched at her skirts, yanking the train out of the way. Her damp palms crushed the fine fabric, wrinkling it in the process. “My lady, since your star reading revealed no answer, are you still in the market for a mate?”
She bit the inside of her cheek so hard, the thick tang of metal coated her tongue.
“Y-yes.” Tugging at her gown, she stumbled back a step, trying to put some distance between herself and the overbearing would-be suitors. “That is the proper course of action.”
Ambition shone bright in his eyes.
“How wonderful,” he murmured, his gaze dropped to the constellation marking her heart, then lingered on the fullness of her breasts.
Novalise shrank into her skin. It was suddenly too hot. Beads of sweat glided down her back, the fluffy layers of silk clung to her slick skin. She was positively stifling. She tried to swallow the burn of alarm, but her throat was dry, like she’d been forced to gulp a bucket full of sand. “I suppose it would seem that way to you.”
“Don’t be so offensive, Kyren. The lady isn’t a prize to be won. There’s far more to consider when choosing a mate than their appearance.” It seemed as though the lone fae from House Terensel had come to her rescue. He shoved the male from Galefell out of the way, but then his smile sharpened. “Isn’t that right, Lady Novalise?”
Anxiety twisted through her, like the tightening vines of writhing bane—death flowers with blossoms of black that wrapped around the trees deep within the forest, slowly strangling them until they died. She pressed her lips together, pleading with herself to maintain some semblance of composure.
“That’s right,” Reif snapped, his magic flaring like a tidal wave ready to sweep her out to sea. The air was charged with the scent of the ocean, of salt, brine, and sandalwood. “But the power Lady Novalise possesses is none of your concern. Her magic is her own, nothing the likes of you will ever control.”
They continued to bicker about her as though she wasn’t even there. Arguing about which one of them would be a more suitable husband, fighting over who stood more to gain from the marriage. Not once did they consider her feelings, instead they quarreled like she was a choice mare up for auction, going so far as to declare which house was more desperately in need of an heir. Love didn’t matter to them. Mating bonds were never even mentioned. They carried on, contending with one another in a verbal sparring match, until the sound of their rising voices melded into a hostile discord.
“Well?” Reif demanded. He crossed his arms, expectant.
Novalise’s heart pounded against the strict walls of her chest. Tension frayed the edges of her nerves, leaving her wrought with a bubbling sense of panic. “Well, what?”
Her voice was too breathy, her lungs were too tight.
“Your choice, my lady.” One of the males of Galefell urged, impatience hardening his jaw.
“Ch-choice,” she repeated softly, blinking rapidly as their imperious faces blurred in and out of focus.
Reif stepped closer and the others followed suit, swarming her until she could no longer focus. “Who do you choose, my lady? As your husband?”
Novalise’s heart stuttered as alarm coursed through her, causing her knees to tremble.
“I...” Darkness crept in along the outskirts of her vision as the music faded and the ringing in her ears amplified. “I need a moment.”
A second later, Novalise’s body swayed of its own accord. Her floral crown slipped from her head, the petals fluttering around her slowly. Tingles spread throughout her and then she was falling, unable to save herself. Right before she hit the ground, she was swept into a pair of strong arms and lifted off her feet. Cushioned against a muscular chest, she inhaled the scent of frosted pine and cold mountains. It reminded her of gray winter skies, right before the first snowfall.
“I believe the lady said to back off.” The masculine voice dripped with ice, his accent heavy, tainted by the Northernlands. “It would seem the males of Aeramere need to be taught a lesson. We do not harass females in Brackroth.”
Brackroth.
Novalise held her breath and gradually tipped her head back, daring a glance at her rescuer. She was being carried by Prince Drake Kalstrand, the Shadowblade Assassin.
Andeveryonewas staring at them.
Reif staggered backward into a low bow. “Deepest apologies, Your Highness. I can assure you that none of us meant Lady Novalise any harm.”
The prince tightened his grip, keeping her close, his fingers digging into her thigh and waist. “Ifanyof you come near her again, your death will belong to me.”
The promise hung in the air, the words taking on a life of their own. If there was one thing Novalise knew about shadow assassins, it was that they kept every vow. They wasted no time with empty threats.
Reif paled, his bronze skin turning ashen. He didn’t say another word, he simply continued to back away one small step after another, until he disappeared into the crowd completely.
Novalise peered up at the prince. “Thank you, Your Highness, but I’m feeling?—”
