Page 22 of All the Chaos of Constellations
Cheering rang in Asher’s ears as Queen Elowyn faced the forest. The Veil was a strange and magical thing, a faintly iridescent, translucent shield that spilled over every corner of Aeramere. No one could enter and no one could leave, not without express consent from the queen. He watched as she raised both arms, creating an opening within the Veil. Ribbons of magic rippled and pulled, shifting so an elaborate entrance took form with illuminated pillars and dancing orbs of faerie fire.
The music crescendoed and dozens of bodies filed in through the pulsing gates. There were mortals from human kingdoms clad in their most expensive attire. Some arrived on horseback or in carriages, their trunks loaded with gifts and offerings to earn Queen Elowyn’s favor. Other creatures mingled among them, humans who weren’t quite mortal at all. Asher spied a handful of witches, unmistakable given the way their scarlet cloaks swirled around them, and the way the other humans gave them an exceptionally wide berth. Fae from other realms arrived as well, many he didn’t recognize. It was a conglomerate of the occult and mystical, all coalescing together under the unbearable impression of finding a mate.
Or at the very least, pretending to want one.
There was no doubt in Asher’s mind that some partygoers in attendance were merely here to sleep with as many willing participants as possible, then leave once the Season ended without another thought.
At least that was a concept he could support.
Having sex purely for the intent of pleasure and release made sense. It was when one started to confuse the idea of lust with affection that things got complicated.
Asher stole a glance at his younger sister.
Cyra’s eyes were wide, full of hope and anticipation. For a moment, she resembled the image of their mother, before her infatuation with the stars and the false prophecy that she would only ever have one love got her killed.
He would do whatever he could to protect Cyra from the same fate. Marriage didn’t need to have intimacy or romance to work. It could be based around more logical wants and needs, like communication, compromise, and maybe even friendship. To assume that a marriage would only be successful if love was the focus was asinine.
“There he is,” Cyra breathed, the awe in her voice drawing his attention back to the festivities around them. “He actually came.”
“Who?” Asher scanned the forest, but Cyra pointed to the skies.
“Prince Drake Kalstrand of Brackroth.”
Asher lifted his gaze and something acidic settled in his gut. Sure enough, cutting through the clouds folded across the sky was the silhouette of a dragon. It swooped down low, sending a gust of warm wind barreling through the forest. The force of it battered the treetops, causing the lanterns hanging from the branches to flicker in fear. Its body was covered in diamond-shaped scales as black as obsidian. Wings of the same color stretched wide, with dagger-sharp claws protruding from the tips of its wings. Spines lined its whipping tail and two horns protruded from its head, where pale yellow eyes glowed like the first breath of a flame. The beast circled overhead, releasing a deafening cry, drawing the attention of every soul in attendance. And atop its back sat a rider, cloaked in darkness and shadows.
Drake Kalstrand. The Shadow Assassin of Brackroth.
There were gasps and shouts as the dragon lowered itself to the ground, taking up residence in a clearing entirely too close to where Novalise was standing. The prince jumped down from his dragon, his sharp gaze unnerving all those who dared to move close for a better look. He tugged off his riding gloves, shoving them in his back pocket. Power emanated from him, dark and merciless. Fae and humans alike took a collective step back, parting for him like he was some kind of god, with shadows following in his wake. He strode through the path they made for him, heading straight for Novalise.
“See?” Cyra yanked on the sleeve of his shirt. “I told you. Novalise Starstorm’s failed star reading has made her the most sought-after female in Aeramere. Even Prince Drake thinks so.”
Asher watched in dismay as Novalise adjusted the crown of pale pink peonies on top of her head, her eyes following Prince Drake’s every move. But when the shadow prince stormed right past her and headed for Ariesian, clasping the fae lord’s hand in greeting, Asher’s paranoia lessened.
Barely.
Novalise seemed enraptured. Not once did she glance at the flock of males surrounding her, eyeing her like she was a piece of freshly ripened fruit. She paid them no mind. Only Prince Drake held her captivated.
Damn it.
Absolutely not.
There was no way he could allow Novalise to attach herself to the Prince of Brackroth. He was powerful and dangerous. Vile. He relished in the chaotic, he hunted in the shadows. The male was born without morals, willing to perform the darkest of deeds if it meant he remained in control. Drake was a trained killer, proficient in the art of death, skilled to never leave a trace behind. Only he was arrogant enough to flaunt his reputation.
Asher shook his head.
He would have to talk to Ariesian. Novalise’s eldest brother was sensible. Rational. He would explain to Ariesian that the prince was a poor match, that Novalise deserved someone more mundane. Someone who wouldn’t use her for her magic, someoneshecould control.
Right. That’s exactly what he would do.
Asher would warn Ariesian about Prince Drake, find her someone more suited to be her mate, then he could purge Novalise from his life for good.
With that, he yanked the absurd crown of laurel from his head and tossed it to the ground.
CHAPTERNINE
Novalise had never seen such a magnificent beast. Nor had she seen such a magnificent man. The dragon itself was intimidating, sleek and stunning, a most fearsome creature to behold. But its rider? He was terrifying. He acted as though he owned the night, like he stole the sunlight wherever he walked, like the dawn trembled in his presence. Like death was his closest friend. She could’ve sworn he was a human and yet he wasn’t quite…mortal.
There was something otherworldly about him.
