Page 29 of All the Chaos of Constellations
Novalise’s eyes flew open, and she gasped. She swayed against the vision that rocked her, leaving her shaken. Tumbling forward, her knees hit the granite ground, but the pain of the stone was nothing compared to the fear harboring in the depths of her heart.
A war?
She shook her head, struggling to catch her breath.
It was impossible.
But the stars never lied.
Aedes was a direct representation of overcoming strife or impending war. The Great Stag symbolized power and leadership. Vespira was a sign of change. Separately, these constellations could mean a great many things, could be interpreted any number of ways. But together, there was no mistaking the validity of their truth.
War was coming to Aeramere.
The sphere surrounding her fell away and she drew her magic inward as twin streaks of starfire erupted from her fingertips. They soared over her head like broken rainbows, singeing the ceiling. She shook her head, trying desperately to quell the erratic beating of her heart.
Once she was certain there would be no more mishaps, no more glimpses of a forbidden magic, Novalise gathered up her skirts.
She needed to speak to Queen Elowyn at once. She rushed from the observatory, chest heaving as she bounded down the winding staircase. All her training to become the epitome of perfection screamed at her to walk, to look presentable, to maintain the decorum of a lady. But the corridors of her house bled together in a mix of golds, blues, and purples as she ran through the halls. She’d never been more grateful to have traded in her heels for a pair of soft leather flats. Not that she couldn’t sprint in heels when necessary, but she’d rather not take any chances.
If she cut through the courtyard, she could bypass most of the estate. The shortcut would empty her out into the gardens along the side of the house, where she’d be able to grab a carriage and fly to the queen’s palace without question.
She darted around a corner and sprinted into the courtyard.
Dark shadows swarmed her, stealing away her senses, and a gust of frigid wind set her teeth to chattering. She tumbled into a solid frame and all the air expelled from her lungs on impact. One strong arm snagged her by the waist and whipped her around, lifting her feet from the ground.
“Do you make it a point to find yourself in my arms now?” a smooth, masculine voice asked as he swiftly set her down.
Novalise looked up to find Prince Drake Kalstrand staring down at her. Despite the slight tease in his tone, all humor was gone from his severe expression. He kept his arm firmly planted around her waist. The grip of his fingers would leave a mark.
“Forgive me, Your Highness.” She couldn’t break the intensity of his gaze. Those evergreen eyes were shrouded in mystery, dark and tempting like a forbidden forest. Her throat was suddenly far too dry. “I was in a hurry, and I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”
“Perhaps you should,” he murmured.
His eyes flicked down between them. At first, Novalise thought he intended to stare blatantly at her breasts, to which she debated the level of punishment she might receive if she slapped him for his vulgar behavior. But then she caught sight of the dagger.
The prince’s hand was wrapped around the edge of his Shadowblade, the tip of it mere inches from her chest. He gripped the blade so tightly it was a wonder the weapon hadn’t sliced open his palm. More interesting, however, were the tiny scars covering his knuckles.
“You’re lucky I was here to catch this before it pierced your heart.” He flicked the dagger upward, caught it by the hilt, then sheathed it.
“If you caught it…” She stole a hasty glance behind her, but there was no one in the courtyard except the two of them. “Then who threw it?”
The shadow prince smiled, slow. Ruthless. It was terrifying. Fear lanced its way through her and she couldn’t stop herself from shivering in his hold.
“It’s called training, Lady Novalise.” His hand moved from her waist to beneath her chin. He tilted her head up, like he was inspecting her. “You should try it.”
Novalise looked away from him, toward the corridor. Arching windows with paned glass shaped like stars lined every wall, and she wondered how many servants, how many of her siblings, were peering out, gauging their interaction. She shook her head, morphing back into the image of a regal lady.
“I could never.”
“Why not?” he countered.
“I don’t know anything about weaponry or swordsmanship. My studies were very particular, and none of them included books on how to fight.” She snagged her bottom lip with her teeth, and his eyes instantly dropped to her mouth. Another shiver of warning tingled down her spine. “Besides, I doubt I’d be any good at it.”
“Says who?” He shifted closer and the shadows of the courtyard moved with him.
“Everyone.” Disappointed by her own answer, Novalise pulled her long braid of hair over one shoulder, fiddling with the sapphire ribbon tied at the ends. “That is, I’m a lady, Your Highness. The eldest daughter of a prestigious house of Aeramere. Learning how to wield a dagger or sword isn’t exactly within my realm of expertise.”
This time, he moved so quickly, she couldn’t even track him. It was as though he was everywhere at once.
