Page 67 of All the Chaos of Constellations
“Oh, child. You must get your head out of the clouds.” Trysta opened an ebony box on her vanity and rummaged through it. “His Highness won’t appreciate it if you fail to listen?—”
“What?” Novalise shrieked, panic causing her blood to thrum and her palms to sweat.
“Novalise, have you not heard a word I said?” Trysta turned toward her, a black diamond solitaire ring surrounded by a halo of rubies pinched between her fingers. “His Highness will not approve of your constant daydreaming.”
His Highness.
Prince Aspen.
Oh gods, no.
Trepidation turned her skin to ice as tiny beads of panic-induced sweat slid down her spine. Her heart hammered, pounding against the wall of her chest. Her lungs seized, her throat closed. Fear clouded her mind, and she stumbled backward a step, suddenly lightheaded. Empty and hollow, she felt as though she’d been carved from the inside out.
Novalise was too late.
She hadn’t picked a husband in time, so one had been chosen for her. And not just any male, a prince. The Prince of Aeramere.
No.
She shook her head, backing away from her mother, away from the fate that doomed her.
“Where are you going?” Trysta demanded, closing the distance between them.
Out. Novalise had to get out.
Without responding, she turned away from her mother and ran.
“At least take off the dress before you ruin it!” Trysta called after her, anger lacing her tone. “Novalise!”
But she didn’t stop, and for once, she didn’t listen.
Novalise sprinted through the corridors of House Celestine toward Ariesian’s study, gasping as dread urged her on, begged her to hasten her steps. She couldn’t marry Prince Aspen. She couldn’t marry anyone. Not so long as her heart belonged to Asher.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN
Asher stared at the shadow prince sitting across from him, trying to maintain a sense of calm. Novalise’s emotions were a torrent inside of him, a swelling rush of agony and despair. Yet there was nothing he could do to reach her, to try to soothe her. Not so long as the Shadowblade Assassin sat in his study, watching his every move with a vicious eye.
Drake had shown up with no notice. The only warning Asher had was the beating of wings and a dragon’s call before the Prince of Brackroth was standing at his door. Now he was in his study, tapping his fingers idly along the edge of Asher’s desk, his cold gaze intensely focused on something near the hearth.
Asher craned his neck to see what had snagged Drake’s attention.
On the ground by the sofa was a pool of scarlet silk—Novalise’s dress.
Coughing lightly, Asher drew Drake’s focus away from the discarded gown. “I still have eight days left.”
“I’m aware.” Drake leaned back in the seat, flicking away an invisible fleck of dust from the collar of his shirt. “Just as I’m certain you’ve made progress on the task at hand.”
Asher nodded. “I have indeed.”
Drake stared at him, waiting with tense patience for him to continue.
“I’ve eliminated the Kethwyn Woods and Wintervale as possible locations for thevirdis lepatite.I’m fairly certain the gem can only be found in the bogs of Fenmire…”
A scowl pulled both of Drake’s dark brows downward.
“I know that’s not what you wanted to hear, Your Highness.” Asher thumbed through the stack of papers on his desk, all riddled with scribbles and notes. “But I’ll be able to give you a more precise location in a few days.”
Namely, after Novalise conducted a star reading to tell him where exactly to find this blasted gemstone. Then he could rid his life of the shadow prince once and for all.
