Page 94 of All the Chaos of Constellations
Asher waited until Cyra slipped back out the door and closed it behind her, then he replaced his spectacles and settled back down to examine the runes.
Something shimmered out of the corner of his eye.
He glanced over at the book Cyra had placed on his desk. Though the lettering was faded, there was no mistaking the way the embossed silver shapes shifted, morphing into a set of ancient characters.
Runes.
He grabbed the book and flipped it open, scouring the loose pages. Runes of silver appeared on the parchment, telling the history of an archaic bloodline of witches. He skimmed the collection of runes, each one revealing a piece of legend from another time. Wonder and something akin to trepidation reverberated through him, shaking him to the core. He closed the book, ran his finger along the lackluster raised letters, then opened it once more.
He stared down at the tome in his hands, a cold wash of disbelief rushing over him.
Asher had found thevirdis lepatite.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-SEVEN
Novalise glanced around the empty grand hall, a slight shiver trekking down her spine. Starlight ensconced in decadent crystals hung overhead, illuminating her and her mother in a soft, pale glow. Their silhouettes stretched along the polished floor, crawling along the shimmering stone like spilled ink.
“Mother.” She twisted her hands together, flinching as her mother’s dark blue gaze raked over her, a disapproving frown creasing the center of her brow. “I’m surprised to see you’re still awake.”
“Well, it shouldn’t be too surprising.” Trysta planted her hands on her hips, the bracelets she wore clinking down her wrists. “After all, you’re the one who vanished after the announcement of your engagement to Prince Drake.”
Her mother’s lips pinched together as though she’d bitten into something terribly sour. Trysta focused on Novalise, taking in her torn dress and bare feet. “What happened to you? You look as though you fell down a hill.”
Off a cliff, if she wanted to be precise, but Novalise kept those thoughts to herself.
Her mother was still in her formal attire from the Firelight Festival—a navy blue frock with bell-like sleeves and silver embroidered stars along the hem. She wore her hair pulled back into an elaborate bun, not a hair out of place, whereas Novalise looked like a walking disaster. Her gown was torn at the thigh from where she’d snagged it on a rose thorn, her hair was a damp, tangled mess of knots, and her feet were filthy.
Novalise made a poor attempt to smooth away some of the wrinkles from her dress. “There were some matters that required my attention.”
Trysta’s admonishing frown only deepened, her lips tugging to one side in disdain. “Or perhaps it was Lord Firebane who required your attention?”
Cold spread through Novalise at the mention of Asher’s name. But she would deal with her regret, with her torrent of emotions some other time. She pulled her shoulders back, willing herself to maintain some sense of calm indifference. “I am perfectly capable of handling Lord Firebane on my own.”
“Yes, yes. Of course you are, darling.” Her mother waved one hand through the air, flippantly. Dismissive. “However, I’m not necessarily concerned about you.”
“Then who is the focus of your concern?” Novalise asked.
She didn’t know her mother was aware of her relationship with Asher. Trysta had never mentioned him before. Usually, she was oblivious to such matters regarding her children, the particulars of their lives often becoming the responsibility of Ariesian instead. Yet it seemed her mother had been paying attention after all. Though she’d likely never considered Asher to be a formidable suitor, right now she seemed to be viewing him as more of a threat.
The thought hollowed out her belly, a harrowing sensation that stole its way through her, flooding her veins with panic.
“His Highness.” Trysta stared at her, unblinking. “Prince Drake,” she clarified after Novalise took a second too long to respond.
“Why would you worry about Prince Drake?”
“I don’t think your betrothed will take too kindly to you doting upon another man’s affection.” Her mother looped her arm through Novalise’s, guiding her toward the stairwell.
She glanced up at the glass ceiling. The sky was already a shade of indigo, the hues of dawn approaching fast, coloring the edges gold. “I don’t think Prince Drake very much cares.”
Trysta laughed, full and rich. “Trust me, darling, he cares. The man is madly in love with you.”
Novalise scoffed. Her mother’s idea of love must be truly warped if she thought the shadow prince was in love with her.
“Besides.” Trysta climbed the steps to the second level, her heels clicking on the stone, as she carted Novalise along with her. Turning slightly, her mother gestured to the paintings lining the walls, each one set in a gilded frame, the canvases displaying constellations shifting across iridescent galaxies. “The stars never lie.”
Except they had for Novalise.
Unless Asher was telling the truth.
