Page 65 of All the Chaos of Constellations
She was competent at a great many things, if only she was ever offered the opportunity to prove it.
“Not in so many words. Our discussions are usually centered around court politics and things of that nature.” Solarius tilted his head, running his thumb along the hard line of his jaw. “What about Lord Asher Firebane?”
Novalise bristled. “What about him?”
“Does he want to marry you?”
He did…and then he didn’t.
“Not exactly.”
“Then maybe that is why Ariesian is concerned about you spending time with him.” He bent down and planted a kiss on the top of her head. “It is a useless endeavor to pursue someone who doesn’t reciprocate your feelings. Trust me, I know.”
She leaned back, looking up at him. For a moment, all traces of his amiable, good-natured demeanor had vanished. Shadows crept into his eyes and his mouth was drawn tight, like he was lost to a memory she couldn’t see. Solarius looked forlorn. Regretful, even.
“Novalise!”
She glanced past Solarius to see Sarelle heading toward them, her cheeks flushed pink.
“There you are.” Sarelle sucked in a breath, then smoothed her skirts. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
“Is something wrong?” Novalise asked, disquiet coursing through her.
“Of course not.” Sarelle gave a flippant wave of her hand, sprinkling stardust everywhere. Solarius wiped a smudge of it from off her cheek, his smile returning once more. “Your wedding dress has arrived. Mother wants you to try it on to see if any adjustments need to be made.”
Her wedding dress.
The one thing she chose was finally here.
“Come along, Nova.” Sarelle snagged her by the hand, attempting to tug her down the hall. “She’s waiting.”
“I’ll leave you to it, then.” Solarius inclined his head, and Novalise followed Sarelle through the corridor leading to their mother’s room.
Trysta’s quarters were spacious and decadent. The walls were papered a dark navy and etched with dazzling constellations. Deep purple draperies were peeled back, fastened in place by bands of gold to allow streams of sunlight to spill in through the soaring windows. The furnishings were all made from dark walnut, the surfaces gleaming. Her mother’s vanity was tidy, with bottles of perfume and jars of ointments organized by size on one shelf. In the center of the room was an expansive four poster bed. The right side was fully made, with not a single pillow out of place. On the left side, however, was a single white rose. A new one was placed upon the bed each morning, as a doting gift to the memory of Zenos Starstorm, Novalise’s father.
“Ah, Novalise, my darling.” Trysta swept forward, the bangles on her wrists jingling. She pressed a featherlight kiss to each of her cheeks. “Now, I’ve spoken to Queen Elowyn, your wedding will take place at her palace in the grand ballroom.”
“But I wanted to get married outside, under the stars.” Novalise swallowed her irritation, and it roiled in the pit of her stomach.
“Don’t be silly. It’s far too warm to have the ceremony outdoors.” Trysta swatted her argument away like an annoying fly. “Everyone will be miserable.”
Novalise would be the one who was miserable.
Trysta flitted about the room, prattling on about the decorations Novalise didn’t like—gaudy glass stars that mimicked the real ones Sarelle could create and bouquets of pungent dahlias even though they made Novalise sneeze. Then there was the guest list, an assembly of some of the highest ranking fae in Aeramere, along with House members, relatives, and friends, many of whom Novalise had never met.
Novalise twisted her hands together as an uncomfortable sensation caused her skin to crawl and itch.
Her mother’s voice carried from the closet.
“And finally,” she exclaimed, wheeling out a dressing form with a cape thrown over it. “The dress.”
Trysta pulled the cape off the form, and Novalise stared in horror.
The gown was hideous.
It was nothing like she’d imagined or dreamed. Not at all what she’d decided upon. The dress she’d chosen was supposed to be deep violet, made of luxurious silk and chiffon. Both elegant and simple in style. She wanted thin straps with a modestly low neckline across the bosom and a starburst of rainbow moonstones exploding from her hips all the way down the delicate hem.
But this…this was a monstrosity.
