Page 48 of All the Chaos of Constellations
Sarelle blinked up at her, a line of consternation furrowing across her brow. “Lord Firebane’s sister?”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to respond?” Sarelle glanced around the great hall, smiling pleasantly as a servant carrying a vase of peonies and ferns bustled past them.
“Obviously.” Novalise absently ran her thumb over the raised black wax seal depicting twin blades crossing over one another, each one ensconced in flames. “It would be audacious to do anything less.”
“Let me ask that a different way.” Sarelle fiddled with the ends of her hair, wrapping the silky strands around her finger, and then releasing them. “Are you going to accept?”
“I think I might. Cyra Firebane is rather lovely, and this is the first time I’ve ever been invited anywhere with no strings attached.” She didn’t want to think of all the times she’d been asked to attend parties and teas at the homes of her “friends” only to learn they were either using her to better their reputation or they wanted details about whether or not any of her brothers were in the market for a wife.
It was incredibly disheartening to come to terms with the fact that her company wasn’t so much appreciated as it was manipulated.
“Do you think that’s wise?” Sarelle prodded, her face composed and schooled into one of perfect calm despite the lingering questions in her eyes.
Definitely not.
In fact, attending tea with Lady Cyra was far from wise, but shewasAsher’s sister. If he was home when Novalise showed up, it would afford her the chance to make him squirm. Especially after he left her dangling on the edge of combustion with no relief in sight. Not only that, but Cyra was best friends with Lilith Vylera, a distinguished lady of the night. Perhaps Lilith would be willing to teach Novalise a thing or two in the art of seduction. The sooner the better, considering she was running quite low on time before she would be forced to choose a husband. There were only ten days left and her mother was already making the necessary preparations for her wedding at the end of Midsummer.
Novalise headed toward the sitting room off the grand hall where her mother kept a desk filled with stationary for correspondence. Sarelle followed, gnawing at her bottom lip, a habit she formed whenever she worried. Seating herself, Novalise grabbed a piece of parchment, a deep blue envelope, and some shimmering navy ink. She would pen her response herself and join Lady Cyra for tea.
“If Lord Firebane wishes to avoid me, then he should be the one to leave.” Novalise signed her reply, then fanned it so the ink would dry. She folded it in half and wrapped it in a ribbon of stars. When she opened her hand, the stars twinkled, glittering brightly in shades of iridescent purple and blue. At once they shot upward, swirling around the letter, carrying it with them as they streaked through the open window, leaving a trail of stardust in their wake. In a few moments, Lady Cyra would be made aware of her expected arrival. And so would Asher, whether he liked it or not. “I will not refuse his sister’s invitation in order to make him more comfortable.”
Sarelle gaped at her, lashes fluttering. Then a beaming smile spread across her face.
“Look at you, Nova.” She swatted at her playfully. “Wherever did this fierce independence come from?”
Novalise dabbed the pen into some more ink and started to doodle a crown of stars. She connected them easily enough, having committed the constellation to her memory. It was Estrela’s crown, the same design of angular lines and stars tattooed over the flesh of her heart. “Let’s just say I’ve finally decided to take charge of my own fate.”
“Well done.” Sarelle squeezed her shoulder, then bent down and pressed a light kiss to her cheek. “I’m so proud of you.”
It warmed her, having Sarelle’s approval. If only the rest of her family would take notice and realize she was more than a precious diamond. She didn’t want to be displayed, or coveted, or treasured. What she desired above all else was to beloved, something she would never find among the males of Aeramere. To them, she would always be Lady Novalise Starstorm Celestine, a symbol of power, wealth, and the source of unrivaled celestial magic. None of them could offer her love, because none of them could ever see past their own greed.
“So.” Novalise pressed the tip of the pen a bit too firmly and the ink blotted, then smeared. She glanced up at Sarelle, offering her best smile. “I don’t suppose you’d want to join me for tea in Emberspire, would you?”
Sarelle’s laughter echoed through the grand hall. She shook her head and walked away. “Absolutely not.”
“Fine!” Novalise called after her, unable to help her widening grin. “See if I help you the next time you’re covered in stardust!”
“There you are,” a masculine voice sounded from the other side of the sitting room and Novalise turned to see Ariesian standing in the doorway. His large frame took up a majority of the space, his presence always seemed too much for any room. He stepped inside, adjusting the cuffs of his dark violet shirt, his boots clicking softly against the stone floor. “Do you have a moment?”
“Actually.” Novalise stood from the small writing desk and handed him her invitation. “I was invited to tea by Lady Cyra Firebane.”
“Mm.” Ariesian’s gaze skimmed the contents of Lady Cyra’s letter, though Novalise wasn’t even sure he read the words at all. “Prince Kalstrand is on his way here to discuss the terms of the alliance. I was hoping you’d be able to join us.”
“Me?” Novalise inhaled sharply, taken aback. She’d never been asked to attend important meetings of any kind. Instead, she was expected to stand around, look pretty, and respond agreeably to any question asked of her. She doubted Queen Elowyn ever had to lower herself to such pathetically weak requirements.
“Yes, you.” Ariesian tugged on the collar of his shirt, then tucked his hands behind his back. He looked every inch a lord prepared to endorse a pact of great significance. His hair was styled so it swooped down over half of his face, but not a single piece was out of place. The shirt he wore was crisp, impeccable. A trim belt wrapped around his waist, though it wasn’t for the gray pants he wore. It was there to display the two swords at his side.
“I figured it would be good to have a feminine perspective.” Ariesian offered his arm and she accepted, allowing him to guide her back through to the grand hall. “To ensure everything is agreeable.”
“Ariesian, I have complete faith in your competence to draw up a trade agreement and an alliance with Prince Kalstrand.” She patted his arm, looking up at him. His face instantly shuttered. “Do not doubt yourself. You don’t need me there to remind you that you’re making the right decision.”
His lips pressed into a tight line, but he nodded once, relenting. “Very well. I’ll see you upon your return.”
Novalise released his arm when Ariesian spoke once more. “So, Lady Cyra called upon you? I didn’t think the two of you were friends.”
“Neither did I.” Novalise’s shoulders rose, then fell. “But I’ve no other plans for the day. Maybe she wants my assistance in discussing preparations for the Firelight Festival? Emberspire hosts one every Midsummer, and itisa two-day-long event. I imagine it’s overwhelming for her to take care of all the planning by herself.”
