Page 62 of All the Chaos of Constellations
Until Novalise realized his brow was pinched in that studious, brooding manner again. “Is something wrong, my lord?”
He stirred his tea, and it was as though she could see his mind working. Considering. Thinking. “Are we going to discuss what happened last night?”
Doubt grazed the back of her neck like the touch of an unwanted advance, and she shuddered. Last night was…wonderful. All she ever wanted, really. To be seen. To be appreciated and cherished. Unfortunately, there was a very real chance he did not feel the same. He accepted her, yes, but that didn’t mean he didn’t regret his actions. If he was remorseful, she might recover from whatever he said next. However, if it was resentment he felt…well, then. There would be no hope of her ever surviving another stinging blow of dismissal.
Asher replaced his teacup on the tray and stretched out his legs, watching her. “Do you always lose control of your magic when it storms?”
Oh.
He wanted to talk aboutthat.
It was a secret she kept well-guarded. Only a handful of people knew she possessed the ancient starfire magic. Nyxian, obviously, because he’d been the one struck down by it. Solarius knew as well, because Novalise had run to him as soon as Nyxian had been hit, and then their mother. Trysta was the one who told her to conceal it, to keep the starstorm a secret. She claimed it was because fae from other houses might spread rumors and false prophecies, like the return of a powerful magic that was once lost. But Novalise thought Trysta worried that if Queen Elowyn discovered she could call upon the starfire, the queen would see it as a direct threat.
The thought left her unwell.
Now, however, Asher was among those who’d witnessed her spiral. In fact, he’d taken on the full brunt of her power without batting an eye.
“The starfire appears out of nowhere. When it storms, the starstorm is violent, like what you witnessed. Other times, like during a star reading, it’s just glimpses of starfire. Sometimes only a few sparks. Lately though, it’s almost as though it’s waiting for something. I can sense the magic flowing through me, lurking, watching…it’s difficult to explain.” She carefully spread some raspberry jam on a biscuit, refusing to look at him as she spoke. “Usually, I’m prepared for it when it happens. When I’m home, I try to find a place to hide where I can’t hurt anyone.”
Like the lower levels of House Celestine. The cold, desolate halls deep within the mountain’s base, where no one could see her torment or hear her cries of anguish. Where she’s not a burden or an oddity. Where her unpredictable exploits can be fully ignored. Starstorm magic was ancient. Fabled. Though it was her family’s namesake, no one in their bloodline had possessed such magic for a long time. It was thought to have died out years ago, before her father’s father was born. For Novalise to be blessed with the starstorm was unthinkable. For her to be incapable of controlling it was a curse.
Asher’s brow knitted with concern. “Have you hurt someone before?”
“You mean besides you?” Her pathetic attempt at humor failed miserably.
“That was nothing, nor was it what I meant.” He reached over, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “And you know it.”
“My brother. Nyxian.” Novalise swallowed around the lump in her throat, remembering the first time her magic attacked of its own accord. “We were out in the gardens, collecting starberries. We were young, then. Nyxian was barely seven and I was twelve. We knew a summer storm was coming, the thunder was causing the ground to tremble. The mountain peaks vanished behind a wall of dark clouds.”
He continued to stir his tea, his face void of judgment.
“It was the first time it ever happened, when I knew something was wrong with me. It wasn’t the same magic I’ve had since birth. This was different. Stronger. The moment lightning shattered the sky, I felt power unlike anything before. It was terrifying.” She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to will the memory away. “Nyx tried to help me, but it was too dangerous, like nothing we’d ever seen or faced. Starfire exploded from my palms in a blinding slash of light. Streaks of dark purple and the deepest blue. The hairs along the back of my neck stood on end. And then Nyxian was on the ground.”
She thought she’d killed him.
Novalise opened her eyes, reminding herself to breathe.
Asher nodded slowly. “That explains the scar. I always wondered how he got it.”
The scar would mark her brother for the rest of his life. It cut down from his brow across the left side of his face, straight through his eye. He’d worn a patch over it for months while the best of Aeramere’s healers fought to save his sight. When he was finally healed, the scarring had faded, and his sight had returned. Except where his eye should have been a dazzling silver, a streak of sapphire ran through it, as though his pupil had been slashed down the center.
Trysta had been able to keep the incident silent and kept within the walls of House Celestine. When Nyxian could finally walk about without a patch over his eye, Trysta told everyone he was “star-touched.” The phrase stuck with him throughout his childhood and if Novalise was being honest, it was probably the reason for his rather obnoxiously conceited attitude. He wasn’t haughty by any means, but rather smug and annoyingly charming.
“Perhaps we should find some way to get you a protective bubble or shield, something to protect you during storms?” Asher took her hand, distracting her from her thoughts. He interlaced his fingers with hers, and she tried not to overthink the gesture.
While it was sweet of him to suggest she protect herself, her primary concern was for those around her.
She couldn’t avoid storms forever. Or using her magic. At some point, the starfire would show itself for all to see, and Novalise would have to make sure she was ready to face the consequences.
“Perhaps,” she agreed.
Asher leaned in to kiss her when the door to the study burst open.
“Asher? Do you know where my—” Cyra stumbled to a stop, her gaze darting back and forth between them, to the dress on the floor, and back again. “Oh. Good morning, Lady Novalise.”
Her golden eyes twinkled, sparkling with mischievousness.
Novalise took a sip of her tea, pretending to be unruffled and poised, despite the fact that her hair was a mess and she was wearing one of Asher’s shirts. “Good morning, Lady Cyra.”
