Page 8 of All the Chaos of Constellations
“Come in,” she sighed.
The door to her room swung open and two feminine voices sang her name like a song. “Novalise!”
She propped herself up on her elbows and glanced over to where Caelian and Creslyn stood in matching gowns of amethyst satin studded with black diamonds in the shape of falling stars. As the youngest children of eight siblings—with both of them recently having entered their twentieth year— they were the only set of twins to have ever been born in the Starstorm lineage. They were identical, vibrant and full of ambition. Their straight, silver hair hung to their waists, and was threaded with shades of lavender, frosted pink, and icy blue. Both possessed eyes of the darkest sapphire, framed with impossibly long lashes. Together, they could light up any room like a star-filled sky with their infectious laughter and brilliant smiles. It was nearly impossible to tell them apart, the only significant difference being Creslyn had a light smattering of freckles dusting her cheeks. Though, oddly enough, they looked more like constellations.
Creslyn swept into the room, joining Novalise on the bed. “Are you almost ready?”
Novalise wasn’t sure she would ever be ready. “Not entirely. I haven’t even decided what to wear.”
“What about the dress Mother had made for you?” Caelian asked, idly toying with the diamond beading trimming her bodice.
The gown in question was not at all what Novalise would have chosen for herself. Though it was made of luxurious satin, it was a murky grayish-purple color. The bodice was painfully snug, so much so that it made it difficult to breathe. Covered in heavy beading, the skirt flared at the waist, accentuating the width of her hips. When Novalise tried it on for the first time, her breasts had been squished up to her chin.
“I’m not sure it’s the best option.” Novalise hated to disappoint anyone—it was her lot in life to please all those around her. She’d done so without fail since drawing her first breath. If there was one thing she couldn’t do, it was tell someonenooutright.
The thought of it caused her palms to dampen.
“It’s not the worst option either.” Caelian gave Novalise’s hair a gentle tug. “Remember last year when she forced you into that turquoise gown that was covered in feathers?”
How could she forget? She’d felt like an overstuffed peacock.
Creslyn shoved up from the bed and glided across the room. She flung open the other door to the wardrobe, scouring the contents. “I’m sure we can find you something else. You have more dresses than Caelian and me combined.”
“I should’ve gone into Celestine and ordered a new gown when I had the chance,” Novalise murmured, wishing she’d made the trip. Instead, she’d stayed home, feigning a headache while secretly agonizing over the slim chance she might run into Lord Firebane. She wasn’t necessarily afraid of seeing him, but if she could avoid the possibility, she would. At all costs.
In her absence, her mother had selected a gown for her. Though Novalise imagined Trysta Starstorm would have decided on the muddy purple dress anyway, whether or not Novalise was there.
“What about this one?” Creslyn asked, tossing a gown of violet tulle and pearls onto the bed, then reaching in to find another.
Caelian’s nose crinkled in distaste. “That will never do. Nova wore that less than a fortnight ago. Everyone will recognize it.”
Creslyn continued to shuffle through the overflowing wardrobe, picking through the explosion of fabrics. “But this…this is lovely.”
She pulled out a flowing skirt that mimicked the rise of twilight and a cropped bodice heavily decorated with magenta beads. She deposited the skirt and top onto the bed.
“I’ve always loved the color.” Novalise ran her fingers across the delicate material. “But I fear it’s too informal for the occasion.”
“Novalise, you’re running out of time.” Caelian grabbed two more dresses and a pair of heels. “You must be quick or else you’ll be late. Mother is preparing for your star reading as we speak, and Queen Elowyn will lift the Veil shortly after.”
“I know.” Novalise sat up, worried if she continued to lie down any longer, she’d be buried beneath a pile of satin, tulle, and silk. “It’s impossible to forget.”
Not only was tonight her star reading, but it was also the start of the Season. Every year during Midsummer, Queen Elowyn lifted the Veil of Aeramere. The Veil was rooted in the queen’s earth magic and served as an invisible shield to protect their land. But for only a fortnight, fae, magical beings from other realms, and mortals of the human kingdoms were invited to take part in the revelry of the summer season. The longest days were celebrated in fashion, with parties and festivals filled with music, splendor, and the chance at finding love. Anyone was welcome to attend, and anyone who found their match was guaranteed to receive Queen Elowyn’s blessing. It was a season of romance and love, one Novalise had always looked forward to, at least until that damning kiss she’d shared with Asher Firebane.
How would she find love if she was bonded to someone who rejected her?
Caelian spun around in a circle in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror inlaid with gold dust and opals, admiring her own reflection. “Perhaps a mortal will catch your eye.”
Novalise offered one of her practiced, insincere smiles. “I think Mother would lock me in a tower before she ever let a mortal ask for my hand.”
What little excitement she clung to for the evening was already waning, succumbing to the rise of acidic dread twisting in her stomach. Anxiety pinched her lungs, and she sucked in a shallow breath. She was quite skilled at pretending. She’d long ago mastered the art of being compliant and obedient, even though every time she was put on display her skin crawled with unease and her stomach wrenched, leaving her empty.
The door to her bedroom opened again and Sarelle stepped in, a swirl of iridescent silk cocooning her lithe body. Younger than Novalise but older than the twins, Sarelle was born fourth in the Starstorm line. Her eyes were the deepest blue, like the twins’, and her midnight hair glimmered like it had been coated in stardust. Clasping her hands together, her dark brows pulled into a frown. “Fates divine, what happened in here?”
Sarelle’s gaze stole over the pile of dresses on the bed, then widened when she realized Novalise was still wrapped in a black satin robe. “Why aren’t you dressed?”
Novalise glanced over at Caelian and Creslyn, who were perusing through her drawers of jewelry. “The twins were helping me.”
Creslyn held up a necklace clustered with diamonds and shooting stars, admiring it in the mirror. “Novalise doesn’t want to wear the dress Mother chose for her.”
