Page 72 of All the Chaos of Constellations
“What agreement?” Ariesian called from behind her, but she ignored his question.
The shadow prince spread his arms, offering her an impassive shrug. “I don’t recall the specifics.”
Anger boiled inside of her, bubbling and hissing, threatening to overflow. It was like a storm gathering off the coast of Aeramere. Dark clouds piling on top of one another, roiling in the sky. Sinister, building with each lash of lightning. Except she was the gale, ready to unleash havoc on those around her. Years of frustration, of being silenced, converged and reached a breaking point. She trembled, but not from fear.
From rage.
Novalise shoved past Prince Drake, intentionally ramming her shoulder into his arm. The bastard didn’t even give an inch, and it was like running into a brick wall. To make it even worse, she caught the uptick of a smile from the corner of her eye.
Wretched man.
“Novalise, wait!” Ariesian’s voice echoed, pleading with her to come back, but she stifled the obedient, dutiful sister inside of her.
She was seething. Outraged. She was furious with the shadow prince for taking advantage of her dilemma and angry with herself for failing to see right through his plans. Resentment fueled her. Ariesian had blindsided her, he’d signed her life away, and by the time she realized what happened, it was far too late. And Asher…damn her mate for being unable to find it in himself to love her. She clenched her jaw to keep from screaming at the top of her lungs.
What began as a brisk pace through the corridors of her house became a sprint. She ran, her feet carrying her like the wind, her revolting wedding dress tangling around her ankles. Mocking her. Onward she continued, rushing up the elaborate staircases to her safe haven.
She needed to breathe. To think. She couldn’t spend an eternity with Prince Drake.
Bursting through the glass doors to the highest balcony of House Celestine, Novalise staggered out onto the smooth stone. The warm summer breeze surrounded her, smothered her. Each breath was sharp and painful, a blade stabbing into her side, puncturing her. She fisted one hand over her heart. Her lungs were pinched. Aching. Her thoughts were a muddled mess of hurt, anguish, and fury. Magic heated her veins, spurring her on, drawing upon the swell of emotions she couldn’t control.
Gripping the edge of the railing, she held on until her knuckles turned white. Stone pillars rose on either side of her and in their sapphire glimmer, she caught sight of her reflection.
Her hair was a mess, her eyes were wild.
But other than that, she was no different. Always the same.
She was the epitome of a lady, pleasant and passive, stuffed into a pompous, hideous dress that was strangling the life out of her.
Chest heaving, she sucked in a breath. Then loosed a piercing scream of frustration.
Magic poured from her in dazzling, star-filled waves. She curled her fingers into the stuffy collar around her neck, ripping it from her throat, and tossing it to the ground. Violet and indigo starfire exploded from her, lifting her hair into lavender ribbons, shooting up into the sky. She clawed at the buttons trapping her, yanking them off by the handful, scattering them all around her. Her magic only intensified, billowing, building into a frenzy as beams of stardust encircled the balcony. Again, she tore at the dress, wresting herself free from the confines of everything it stole from her. Pieces of the gown caught fire, and she watched in satisfaction as the scratchy material went up in starry flames, then drifted to the ground, scorched and ruined.
This time, the reflection gazing back at her was no longer her own. Gone was the practiced perfection. The epitome of a lady. She stared at what remained of herself. A Starstorm fae with shredded bits of cloth clinging to her flushed skin. She was rejuvenated, restored. All traces of who she was forced to become now burnt pieces of tulle and suffocating satin. Scraps of the darling of Aeramere curled at her feet.
The starstorm receded, and Novalise drew in a shaking breath.
“Such an interesting take on fashion.” The heavily accented voice jarred her, and she spun around to find Prince Drake watching. He strode toward her, closing the distance between them, every step, every click of his boots, intentional.
This time when she shivered, it was from fear.
“I much prefer this version of you.” His finger lifted one of the tattered pieces that barely covered her breasts. “Even if it leaves little to the imagination.”
Another heated swell of anger washed over her. She slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me.”
Prince Drake tucked his hand behind his back, but beneath his frozen, green gaze, she felt more exposed than ever. “Very well, my lady.”
“I amnotyour lady.” She hated the wavering of her voice but was spurred on by her own resolve, determined to stand her ground. “And I willneverbe your wife.”
A slow, scheming smile spread across his chiseled face. “Oh trust me, I will be leaving Aeramere with a wife.” His gaze swept over her once more, freezing her. “Whether it’s you or one of your sisters is of no consequence to me.”
“Excuse me?” Novalise reared back, astonished by his admission. “My sisters are out of the question.”
His jaw ticked.
“Be that as it may, do you think I want a female who is mated to someone else?” He crowded her, edging her closer to the railing. She flung her hands back to catch herself on its smooth ledge before she toppled over. “Do you think I would enjoy watching you pine for another for an eternity?”
“I’m not mated—” The lie almost slipped from her tongue when a gust of frosty air slammed into her, stealing the words from between her lips. The scent of frosted pine and wintry mountains overwhelmed her, left her dizzy.
