Page 5 of All the Chaos of Constellations
An impatient sigh escaped him.
He’d been perfectly content in this alcove, ignoring the ball and hiding from his sister, who saw fit to throw him at the mercy of every single female within earshot. Cyra had practically forced him to abandon the solitude of his study, then dragged him here to partake in forced conversations and uncomfortable silence. She didn’t understand why he preferred the company of his books to social gatherings, and he supposed she never would. It wasn’t every day a fae of Aeramere, especially one as powerful as himself, wanted nothing more than to be left alone. He didn’t like parties or celebrations, he despised crowds, and he certainly didn’t enjoy the petty small talk that usually accompanied such events.
Glimmers of light peeked in through the petals of the winterblooms, dancing around Novalise and illuminating her like she was a fae of Emberspire and not Celestine. But there was no mistaking her birthright, not with those silver eyes that sparkled like pools of stardust. She looked away from him then, pretending to smooth the deep blue velvet skirt of her gown. The thin straps were dusted with diamonds and the bodice cut low, nearly to her navel, drawing even the most honorable of gazes. Fine silver threading entwined her waist, exploding down around the fabric like bursting stars. She wore her pale lavender hair twisted away from her face. It fell down her shoulders to the middle of her back, and moonstone charms were scattered throughout the tresses like constellations.
She was regal. Exquisite. Perfection in every sense of the word. And he wanted nothing to do with her.
Asher stole a glance through the slivers of space between the flowers and caught sight of Reif Marintide. The damned fae looked like he was on the hunt for a bounty, likely one that would make for a fine tumble. “Lord Marintide looks like he could use a companion.”
Novalise actually groaned. “I’d rather not. When I take a lover, I prefer not to share him.”
“I see.” His gaze betrayed him and slid to the necklace she wore. Dangling from the chain of gold was the Faerie Star with an outward facing crescent moon on either side. He flashed a cunning smile. “And how often do you take lovers, my lady?”
Her skin flushed, and the corners of her mouth pinched tight. She looked downright furious.
“That, my lord,” Novalise spoke with an air of authority, “is none of your concern.”
“Pity.”
She rolled her eyes and bent low, peering out between the waterfall of florals, while offering Asher a rather splendid view of her backside.
Gods, of all the alcoves in this entire house, why did she have to hide in the one he’d chosen? Granted, he’d never had any sort of interaction with Novalise. He knew she was beautiful, but he also knew she was obliging, polite, and the epitome of a lady. She was exactly the type of female he avoided. Not that those attributes were intimidating by any means, but more so because they oftentimes brought a whirlwind of chaos into his quiet, orderly life. He enjoyed catching the sunrise during the stillness of dawn before the rest of the world awoke. He liked to stroll through the forests of Emberspire when autumn snatched away the last breath of summer and painted the leaves in shades of ruby, gold, and topaz. Novalise, however, was quite the opposite.
She attended every social event, from the seafaring games of House Azurvend, to the Festival of the Skies of House Galefell, to even the all-night dances deep within the forests of House Terensel. Everyone adored her. She seemed to thrive in the boisterous celebrations of Aeramere, the pinnacle of all the things he loathed.
If Asher had been smart, he would’ve brought a book with him to the Yuletide Ball. At least then he could have been too preoccupied with the studies of magical creatures to pay attention to anything or anyone else. Most notably, a pretty female with remarkable eyes whose lips looked entirely too kissable.
He shook the ridiculous thought from his mind. He had no business assessing the kissability of her mouth.
Novalise huffed out a breath, sinking back further into the alcove. She faced him, wrapping her arms around herself. “He’s still out there.”
Asher blinked, her words drawing his attention back to her lips that happened to be painted a glossy, rose color. “Who?”
“Lord Marintide.” Her gaze drifted back to the waterfall of flowers hiding them. “I wish he’d set his sights on someone else for the evening.”
“You mean he’s looking for you?”
“Yes, he’s looking for me. That’s why I’m in here with you.”
She loosed a breath, and a few fallen strands of her lavender hair fluttered around her face. Her nose crinkled. “I imagine he intends to pick up where we left off.”
A strange sensation seized Asher’s gut and his jaw clenched.
“Fine.” He bit the word out. “You can stay.”
Though it sounded more like a gruff command than a kind offer.
“Thank you,” she said dryly, and cut him down with a look. “How thoughtful.”
Asher couldn’t help it when the corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk.
The air above them shimmered and filled with a faint tinkling sound, stirring the darkness ensconcing them. A plant slowly unfurled from the stone ceiling, its slender green leaves sprouting as round, white berries decorated the stem.
“Mistletoe.” Asher reached up and flicked one of the leaves.
“The work of my sister.” Novalise glared up at the flowering plant as though it had somehow personally offended her. “She placed them all over the house, apparently even the alcoves.”
Asher chuckled. “Do you suppose it’s too late to pretend we haven’t seen it?”
