Page 105 of All the Chaos of Constellations
Novalise’s gaze slid to the curtains. There was still no sign of her mother. “Thank you.”
Caelian wandered over to a wall of shelves overflowing with spools of ribbon. “Have you told anyone else?”
“Solarius knows, I needed his help after the accident with Nyx.” The starstorm was a closely guarded secret. Or it was until recently. “Nyxian may have told others, but I don’t know. We never spoke about it again.”
Sarelle’s brows shot up and she blinked. “Whyever not?”
“Well, because at the time, I thought I had killed him.” The starfire had hit Nyxian in the face, carving up his left cheek to his forehead, splicing the iris of his eye. He’d carried the scar for years. “I think we were both in such a state of shock, we just never mentioned it again.”
“You should tell Ariesian.” Creslyn tucked her hands behind her back, browsing the display case full of rings, necklaces, bracelets and earrings, the glittering jewels attracting her gaze. She was always fond of anything that sparkled. “I bet he could help you.”
“That’s right,” Caelian agreed, glancing over her shoulder at them. “He’s incredibly powerful, Novalise. As the eldest, he has an extensive knowledge of all the Starstorm magic. I’m sure if he knew you were blessed with starfire, he would be more than willing to train you.”
She’d have to consider it. Her relationship with Ariesian was…complicated. He was the eldest, and he wore the weight of all that was expected from him like armor. Heavy and impenetrable. Intimidating. Like the walls of a fortress unable to be breached. She supposed she could tell him about the starstorm. But even if he believed her, even if he never doubted her, she wasn’t entirely sure he would agree.
It was almost too much to ask.
Novalise glanced over at Sarelle while Caelian and Creslyn distracted themselves with jewels and piles of satin. She kept her voice low, and a steady eye on the curtains. “Thank you for believing me.”
“Of course, I will always stand by your side.” Sarelle toyed with the violet silk ribbon at her waist, her gaze flicking around the shop. “But right now, we have more important things to figure out other than how you can learn to control the starstorm.”
“Like what?”
Sarelle leveled her with a look of pure contempt. “Like how to stop you from being forced to marry Prince Drake tomorrow.”
“I’m running out of options.” If Novalise could find a way to expose Prince Aspen, then that would cause enough of an uproar that the wedding could be delayed, at least for a few days. However, as of right now, she was lacking any solid evidence and doing so also created the very real possibility of exposing her mother.
“If Lord Firebane wants you,” Sarelle whispered, her gaze sliding to the twins, “he’ll have to fight for you.”
Novalise cringed, her stomach coiling into unforgiving knots. She didn’t want a life without Asher in it, nor did she want to see him suffer at the hands of Prince Drake’s wrath. It was too dangerous. Too brutal. The entire process was archaic. A battle to win a lady’s hand only proved that females had no voice when it came to such matters. They were silenced and cast to the side, left with no choice but to marry the victor of a bloody, deadly duel.
“Lord Firebane won’t win.” Novalise squeezed her eyes shut. “Prince Drake will destroy him.”
“But would he do it?” Sarelle asked. “Does he love you enough to risk his life for you?”
Novalise opened her eyes and was met with her sister’s compassion. She pressed her lips together and looked away, unable to withstand Sarelle’s pity. “I don’t know.”
CHAPTERFORTY-TWO
It was the wedding of Novalise’s nightmares.
All of it was wrong—the flowers, the music, the guests. And the man…the man wasdefinitelywrong.
Novalise paced the stuffy sitting area outside of Queen Elowyn’s throne room, where her wedding was to take place. There were two glass doors along the far wall that opened to a small balcony, just large enough for one person. Drapes of emerald hung from the windows, their centers pulled back with gold cord. Novalise was half-inclined to yank the draperies down from the rods. If she worked quickly, she could tie the ends together and craft a makeshift rope. Then she would be able to climb over the balcony and scale the palace walls to freedom.
Granted, she was fairly certain she wouldn’t even make it to the border of the palace before she was caught by guards, dragged back to the throne room, and forced down the aisle. But it might be worth a try.
Novalise gnawed her bottom lip, her heels clicking softly in time against the gold-veined ivory floor, like a countdown to her demise.
She hadn’t heard from Asher at all since she last saw him in his gardens. Not once had he attempted to reach her, not once had she heard even a whisper of his voice. On more than one occasion, she’d reached for him through their bond, but only silence had answered her. It was possible he’d given up on her, that he considered fighting for her a lost cause.
Not that she could blame him. It was a valid concern.
Prince Drake hardly seemed like the kind of person to show mercy.
But Novalise couldn’t lose Asher. Not to Prince Drake and not to death.
She had to stall—if she could put off the wedding for three more days, Queen Elowyn would have no choice but to close the Veil. Then she could buy herself some time. Besides, there was no way the queen would allow her to leave Aeramere with the shadow prince unless they were already married.
