Page 77 of All the Chaos of Constellations
Her mouth fell open. Prince Drake slid one finger beneath her chin and gently closed it, sweeping her across the floor in a complex series of footwork.
“Come now, Lady Novalise. Don’t look so appalled.” His smile was venomous. He was poison in the flesh. “I’ve never pretended to be something I’m not.”
She scowled, her own smile sharpening. “And what are you?”
“An assassin forged from the shadows. A prince with a soul as black as the darkest night. A villain, not a hero. Always an enemy, never an ally. A nightmare come to life.” The music slowed and they stopped moving, but the world around her continued to spin. The prince’s deadly grin vanished. “In other words, my lady, a monster.”
Another song picked up almost immediately, a hauntingly slow melody, and Prince Drake wasted no time gathering her back into his arms for the next dance.
Every muscle in her body screamed at her to run, to put as much distance between herself and the Shadowblade Assassin as possible. The space between them was magnified with the presence of danger, an underlying sense of precarious doom. He was vile. Wicked. Worse than even Prince Aspen, which spoke volumes considering the Prince of Aeramere was a vicious snake by trade. Her gaze swung from one cluster of onlookers to the next, seeking out any sign of Asher. But he was nowhere to be found.
“Your attempts to find your knight in shining armor are futile.” He glared down at her. “He’ll come to your rescue…eventually.”
Prince Drake crushed her against him, his grip so strong, she swore he might snap one or two of her ribs. She winced against the assault, her chest tight. The closeness forced her to look up at him until he spun her away, his ironclad hold linking their fingers as he twirled her again and again, each spin faster than the last. Colors blurred together along the outer edge of her vision. Her stomach twisted into dizzying knots, and with every turn she found herself desperate to find his terrifyingly handsome face, fearful that if she missed her spot even once, she’d either faint or vomit.
Finally, the relentless spinning ceased, and he yanked her back into his arms.
Novalise sagged against him, sucking in a haggard breath. Squeezing her eyes shut, she waited until she could stand on her own two feet without toppling over before opening them.
Meeting his remorseless gaze, she attempted to disentangle herself from him. But Prince Drake’s arms were a fortress, and for her, there was no way out.
“I came to Aeramere for two things, Lady Novalise. Thanks to your brother, I already have one.” His evergreen eyes flared with power. “The other is on the shoulders of Lord Firebane. If he delivers, then I’ll be on my way. If he does not…”
Prince Drake chuckled darkly.
But something pulled at the back of Novalise’s mind. A memory, a conversation.
The one who seeks it hails from the Northernlands.
Asher’s words replayed in her mind, and she stared up at the shadow prince in horror.Hewas the one who wanted that green gemstone. The one jewel capable of amplifying his malicious intent. Of intensifying his dark magic. Of exaggerating his already overinflated ego.
“You’ll ruin us.” She spat the words out, bitter and angry.
“Are you always so dramatic? It’s only a game,kearsta.” He dipped his head toward hers, his lips barely a breath away. The wintry scent of him caused icy beads of panic to drip down her back. “You want to make him jealous, do you not?”
“No. I mean yes, but no.” She blinked rapidly, trying to form a coherent thought. “That’s not what I meant.”
The shadow prince merely lifted a brow.
“I mean, you’ll ruin all of us.” Her chest rose and fell, her breathing hitched. “If Asher finds that jewel?—”
At the word, Prince Drake faltered. It was barely noticeable, the faintest of missteps. But then his gaze narrowed and his hold on her tightened once more, bruising. Cruel.
“You’ll be unstoppable,” she breathed. Her heart thundered, the sound of her rushing blood echoing in her ears.
He edged back, pulling himself up to his full height, his gaze skimming over the top of her head. “You know not of what you speak.”
“Yes, I do,” she hissed. No longer would she endure being subjugated. She was more thanjusta lady. She was a Starstorm fae of House Celestine and she wouldnotbe ignored. “I know you seek thevirdis lepatitefor its extreme power. I know you’re forcing Asher to find its location before the end of Midsummer.”
A sinister laugh escaped him, and his eyes turned as cold as a forest in the dead of winter. “Is that what he told you? That I’mforcinghim to do my dirty work?”
“I…he didn’t say anything at all. Not exactly. But I know you?—”
“You know nothing,” he growled.
Magic emanated from him. Raw, dense power. It pulsed around them, pressing in like a wall of indestructible stone, until her jaw ached and her temples throbbed. All around her, time slowed to the point of impossibility. Every movement, every laugh, seemed to take ages to progress. It was as though she was attuned to every event unfolding around her, but each second was suddenly the length of a minute, if not longer. Even the music was a languid pull of drawn-out melodies to the point of pain.
Yet Novalise remained fluid. Only she and Prince Drake were immune to the might of his power.
