Page 15 of All the Chaos of Constellations
She twisted her hands together in front of her, squeezing her fingers. If she couldn’t find a male on her own, the decision would fall to Ariesian and her mother. Ariesian, well, she at least trusted her brother’s judgment. But her mother…Trysta would likely marry her off to the highest bidder.
Novalise drew in a ragged breath, pressed her palm to her stomach in a desperate attempt to suppress the acidic rise of anxiety bubbling up inside of her. A loud, rushing sound exploded through her mind, followed by a stabbing twinge in the center of her chest. Trepidation raked its claws through her, and Novalise doubled over. She couldn’t catch her breath, and the damned dress she wore only seemed to further compress her lungs. She swatted away the hands of those who tried to help her, shoving past the onlookers without a second thought as she staggered down the steps of the dais. In the distance, she could’ve sworn she heard someone call her name over the deafening noise clamoring inside her head.
All she wanted was the calm. The quiet. The solitude.
She reached for the one male she knew could give her all of that and more. Asher. If she could hear his voice, if she could connect to the steady beating of his heart, then maybe she would remember how to breathe.
Stumbling to a stop, she tossed a glance over her shoulder to where he’d been standing earlier, before the reading, but there was no sign of him.
Asher was gone.
She was alone. Gasping for air that wouldn’t come, she turned on one heel and started running. The sting of humiliation slapped her across the face, but she burst through the doors of the observatory, out into the warm summer night. The path she took veered left, away from the main house and toward the gardens. She could hide there, among the arches of wisteria and the walls of lilac. In the garden, in a haven of winding pathways, trickling fountains, and blooming flowers, she could find solace in her despair.
Because beneath the overhang of delicate purple wisteria and concealing vines, the chaos of the stars would not be able to find her.
So, Novalise ran. Hot tears streaked down her cheeks and twice she tripped, not caring when the gown snagged on a bush with thorns like teeth, ripping the satin she wore to shreds. The vicious plant snared her skin too, as the warm trickle of blood slid down her thigh. But she didn’t stop.
She would run until she had nothing left. Until she could no longer feel anything at all.
CHAPTERSIX
Asher cursed under his breath and roughed a hand over his face.
What the hell had he been thinking, slipping into her mind like that?
But damn if he’d been able to stop himself. She’d been almost paralyzed with a kind of quiet delirium. Her thoughts were a cacophony of turmoil, rendering her terrified. He couldn’t stand there and watch her suffer. Especially not in front of so many people who would undoubtedly spread rumors about the unfortunate turn of events.
He’d been perfectly content to live his own life for the past six months while Novalise lived hers. They were better off away from one another. Sure, he saw her face every time he closed his eyes at night and sometimes being separated from her was physically painful, but he didn’t want her. He didn’t want anyone. What happened between them was primal, a fusing of their magic. There was no love there. No affection or intimacy.
The mating bond between them was a lie.
True love only brought pain and heartache, and he was entirely too familiar with both emotions, thanks to the virulent relationship of his parents.
He stood before one of the fountains in the gardens of House Celestine. Smooth slate granite was shaped into a tower of stacked stars, ranging in size from large to small, but instead of water flowing from them, it was some sort of sparkly, silvery liquid. He reached out to touch it, to run his fingers through the strange substance, when a rather feminine yelp sounded from behind him.
Asher wheeled around just in time to see Novalise tumbling down the path toward him, arms flailing. Her hair unfurled behind her like ribbons of lavender silk and her eyes were wide as she tumbled toward him. He reached out, snaring her quickly by the waist as she toppled into him, the force of her impact enough to send him off balance. Her elbow slammed into his abdomen, knocking the air from his lungs. He staggered backward, grappling to remain upright, when the heel of his boot caught the bottom edge of the fountain.
“Oh, shit.”
There was no recovering.
Asher locked one arm tight around Novalise, hauling her against his chest. With the other, he covered her head, protecting her, preparing to take the full brunt of the blow. The back of his knees hooked onto the ledge of the fountain and down he went, landing on his ass with Novalise in his lap. Pain splintered through him, but it was fleeting, his main concern was the coughing female he held in his arms. Shimmering water sloshed all around them, pouring from the stone stars and soaking them thoroughly.
She gasped and sputtered, chest heaving, shoving wet strands of hair back from her face.
“Are you alright?” he asked, lightly running his hands over her to check for any obvious wounds.
“I’m fine.” She winced when he grazed her thigh, where her dress was practically falling apart. The fabric was stained a darker color than the rest. She smacked his hand away. “I said I’m fine.”
“And I can clearly see that you’re injured.” He lifted the soaked pieces of satin from her skin. “May I look? To make sure you’re okay?”
She huffed in annoyance. “If you must. But it will heal fast enough.”
Of course it would. Fae healed naturally and usually at a rapid pace. But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. The gown looked as though it had been torn from her body. Angry red scratches marred her pale flesh.
Alarm fired through him.
With one hand, he cupped the side of her face, assessing her.
