Page 27 of All the Chaos of Constellations
Cyra beamed, then gave a little sniffle. “So, does that mean you’ll accompany me to the Yavanna Ball in Terensel this evening?”
Asher groaned. She’d played his emotions perfectly, filling him with guilt because of his quick dismissal, then attempting to trick him into going to another Midsummer celebration at the expense of his remorse. Somehow, she always got exactly what she wanted, but not this time. Asher stood his ground. “Absolutely not.”
“But I don’t want to go alone.” She crossed her arms, sticking out her bottom lip to pout. It was a ploy, and one she used often whenever she wanted to get her way.
“I don’t want you to go by yourself either.” Asher stole a glance at the study door, then at the small mountain of books on his desk. He had a great deal of runes to sift through. “Ask Lilith to go to the Yavanna Ball with you. She’d be far much better company than me.”
Cyra heaved a sigh and sprawled dramatically onto the black leather sofa across from his desk. She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead, feigning distress. “Asher, I don’t think you understand the importance of this situation.”
He leaned his hip into his desk and crossed one ankle over the other. Slowly, he lifted his spectacles, positioning them on top of his head and off his face. Arching one brow, he eyed his sister. He really ought to work with her on the proper manners of a lady. “I imagine I understand more than you think I do.”
“It’s the Season and I’m of age. At some point in the near future, I’ll have a suitor, maybe more than one if I’m lucky, and they’ll want to court me.” She bit her bottom lip, hesitant. Her gold gaze latched onto him. “Maybe even love me.”
The mere mention of the word put him on edge.
“Love is?—”
“A weakness, yes, I know.” She drew the last word out, emphasizing it more than was necessary, and flung one hand through the air. “You’ve stated as much for as long as I can remember. I’m not saying I should marry for love, though the possibility is always there. But if I find a match, I’ll need your permission.”
He straightened, then shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants. “You think I would deny you?”
“You might,” Cyra ventured, sitting up. “If it was someone like Lord Marintide.”
Asher scrubbed a hand over his face. “Reif Marintide is out of the question.”
Though even he had to admit, there were worse choices. Reif might have been fond of the ladies and not always so discreet in his endeavors, but he was a safer option in that he would never raise a hand to Cyra. Or any other female, for that matter.
“Which is exactly why I need you with me at the Yavanna Ball.” She gestured vaguely around the room, her brows lifting. “To ward off any unlikely suitors.”
Tapping his fingers restlessly along the edge of his desk, he considered his sister’s reasoning. “I suppose you make a valid point on the matter.”
“Of course I do.” She flashed him a brilliant smile, and he knew he lost the battle against her. “I’ve had an excellent teacher.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere with me.” But the corner of his mouth curved anyway.
“I’m just grateful you’re allowing me to be a part of the decision instead of choosing for me.” Cyra shook her head. Her hair tumbled forward as she clasped her hands in her lap, her eyes suddenly taking a keen interest in the floorboards. “Poor Lady Novalise.”
Asher jolted like he’d been struck by lightning. “She’s betrothed?”
Cyra glanced up at him, lifted her arms, then let them fall by her side. “Not yet. But she will be sooner rather than later. I heard Lord Starstorm is choosing her mate for her himself, since her star reading didn’t name anyone in particular. Lilith said there’s a possibility they’ll announce the engagement tonight.”
The bond connecting him to Novalise warped into a mass of fury. Black flames tainted with streaks of silver scoured down the binding, reaching for the explosion of glittering stars. His magic roared, his blood boiled. Every thread tying him to her thoughts, her feelings, her voice, her soul, grew taut. Frenzied. He clamped down on the severe sensation, shielding himself from her.
“Who?” He ground the word out.
“I don’t know.” Cyra ran her finger along the seam of the sofa, ignorant of his inner turmoil. “She received no less than four marriage proposals last night.”
He loosed a stream of unsavory curses that left his sister blinking in surprise.
“Why are you so upset?” She peered up at him, her eyes glinting with concern. A small frown creased across her brow. “You don’t even like her.”
“You’re right.” Asher grabbed his coat from the back of his chair, then headed for the door. “I don’t.”
“Where are you going?” Cyra asked, scrambling off the leather sofa after him.
“To the palace.” Because if there was anyone in Aeramere who could break the bond between him and Novalise, it was Queen Elowyn.
“But what about the Yavanna Ball?”
