Page 109 of All the Chaos of Constellations
They collided in a storm of untempered fury. Years of unchecked anger poured from Asher in the form of bare-knuckled punches—anger with his father for being such a repulsive bastard, anger with his mother for not loving him and Cyra enough to stay alive, but mostly, anger with himself. For shutting Novalise out. For rejecting her. For being so blind, so damn stupid, that now he was going to lose her.
Drake swung again, and Asher blocked, deftly landing another hit on the shadow prince’s face. He stumbled back, his footing unstable. Asher lunged, pummeling Drake in a series of swift jabs. With every strike against him, Drake seemed to become more maniacal, as though he thrived on the bloodlust of the brawl. His harsh laughter grated against Asher’s fraying nerves, fueling his rage. He surged forward, but Drake spun, whipping around to avoid another meeting with Asher’s fist.
“Well done, Firebane,” Drake chuckled, blood dripping from his wounds, the flesh around his right eye mottled purple with streaks of black and blue. “Show them exactly who you are—a violent prick like your father.”
Something inside Asher snapped.
The jeer struck true, and he rushed toward his opponent, the knowing glint in Drake’s dark eyes the only warning before Asher realized his mistake.
The shadow prince launched himself into a backflip, the metal toe of his boot connecting with Asher’s chin. His teeth rattled, and blood coated his tongue. Pain erupted from the base of his skull to his temples, pounding and relentless. Bile scaled the back of his throat, but he attacked again, refusing to back down, except this time Drake blocked every strike and punch with ease. His motions were sharp and precise. Not once did he falter, his skill set in the art of fighting unrivaled.
Without warning, a blade materialized in Drake’s hand, the gleam of it sending a spear of alarm straight through Asher’s heart.
It was then he remembered who stood before him.
The Shadowblade Assassin.
Screams ruptured his thoughts—Novalise’s screams.
Drake stalked toward him when Asher caught sight of something blue and pulsing from the corner of his eye. He tossed a hasty glance to his right, only to see Reif Marintide standing nearby, a sword crafted from the tides glowing in his hands. Reif tossed the weapon in Asher’s direction. It spun through the air in a wave of power, and he caught it by the hilt, just in time to defend himself from the Shadowblade’s wrath.
The intense rush of oceanic magic reverberated through Asher, the crash of the two weapons deafening. The dead silence of night met the roar of the sea. He stepped into every attack, unyielding. Again, the battle ensued, sword versus dagger, a daunting display of expert weaponry.
Sweat slid down Asher’s back, fusing his shirt to his skin. Exhaustion clawed at him, a formidable foe who threatened to be the promise of his end. His muscles ached, straining and growing taut. With every breath, he reminded himself he was still alive. He was still breathing. But Drake showed no signs of such weariness. Not even with blood pooling from every gash on his face. He looked as though he was just getting started.
Suddenly, Drake flipped the Shadowblade high into the air.
Asher tracked it, and Drake’s boot met him squarely in the chest, sending him flying. His lungs caved, and he landed flat on his back against the stone of the courtyard. His head snapped against the hard ground, and spasms of pain seared through him so his vision blurred and his mind reeled.
“Asher! Get up!”Novalise shrieked, fear lacing her voice as it ripped down the bond.
But it was too late.
Drake was upon him, the tip of the Shadowblade aimed right for Asher’s throat. “Any last words, Firebane?”
Asher’s head lolled to the side to find Novalise. She was shaking uncontrollably, her eyes wild with feral vengeance. Through the torment of it all, he smiled, then said, “I love you.”
Drake hoisted his blade.
“NO!” Novalise’s scream shattered the stars. She sprinted toward him, bursts of starfire cascading around her in a sphere of celestial power. Arms outstretched, palms splayed open, the magic surrounding her intensified as her hair lifted from her shoulders and the streaks of starfire swirled faster in a riveting show of force. Turbulent and tumultuous, she was the starstorm, the namesake of her birthright.
Murmurs of shock and awe resounded through the crowd, but it wasn’t enough to deter her.
Novalise’s fierce gaze cut to Drake as she aimed the wrath of her fury at him. When she spoke, her voice was as calm as death. “Not. My. Mate.”
The shadow prince met her enraged glare, then pulled back slowly, withdrawing his weapon. Cold emanated from him, an iciness that caused Asher’s bones to shudder. Shadows crawled around Drake, his face a mask of barely contained violence. He wiped his thumb along his bottom lip, glancing down as it came away smeared with blood. The corner of his mouth twisted into a sinister smirk. This time, when Drake lifted the Shadowblade, he aimed it straight toward Ariesian.
“You owe me a wife.”
In the next breath, the shadows engulfed him, and he was gone.
“Asher.” Novalise’s magic receded and she dropped to her knees. Her hands were warm as they roved over his face, gently soothing. “I thought I was going to lose you.”
Asher groaned, his busted lip throbbing as the magic of his blood slowly worked to heal his injuries. “I’d be lying if I told you I thought differently.”
Because in truth, he could’ve sworn on this night, he would’ve lost her forever.
Her lavender hair fell around them like a curtain, and she bent down, lightly brushing her lips over his. The kiss was soft, the barest of touches. And it set Asher on fire.
