Page 33 of All the Chaos of Constellations
He chuckled, crossing his arms. His eyes roved over Novalise, and his upper lip curled in disgust. “Lady Novalise claims she could never misinterpret the stars, yet her own reading was an absolute disaster.”
Novalise ducked her head, her cheeks flushing bright pink at the prince’s crude remarks.
Asher opened his mouth before he could stop himself. “Her reading is of no consequence. It simply foretold her fate, not that of Aeramere. Studies of the stars have proven that specific constellations coincide with one another throughout certain moments in history. Not once have Aedes, the Great Stag, and Vespira ever been mentioned together. Such a discovery should warrant an investigation.”
Even if Asher considered the stars and their meanings to be an utter waste of time and complete garbage, that didn’t mean he hadn’t read up on their significance in terms of magic. Celestial readings might be nothing more than ludicrous musings, but books were factual, and logical reasoning was a validity Asher couldn’t deny.
“Great,” Prince Aspen muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. “Now I have a hermit fire fae who imagines himself a philosopherandan insufferable star reader who thinks herself worthy of her mother’s acclamations trying to tell me what to do.”
Asher waited for Novalise to break, willed himself not to catch her when she crumbled, but she stood firm. “I may not be the Reader of Stars, but the magic of them runs through my veins.” Her gaze flicked to Asher, then landed back on Prince Aspen with cool determination. “They speak to me.”
“And the Royal Guard speaks tome,” Prince Aspen snapped back. “If war was on the horizon, trust I would be the first to know.”
Queen Elowyn bristled. “Mind yourself, Aspen.”
“Apologies, Mother.” The prince bowed, but it was stiff and curt. “Perhaps Lady Novalise would find it more amiable to discuss the weather and marriage rather than matters of conflict.”
“An excellent idea.” Drake moved closer to Novalise, tightening his grip around her waist. He turned slowly, facing Asher. “Warfare is overrated, especially when there are more romantic ways to die. Isn’t that right, Lord Firebane?”
The barb hit its mark, digging deep.
The memory of his mother’s death was still fresh, so clear he could visualize every last detail. From the way her limp hand hung off the edge of her bed, down to the scarlet drop of blood that slid from the corner of her mouth before she took her final breath.
Asher bowed. “If you’ll excuse me.”
His words were terse, each one of them forced through a clenched jaw.
“But my lord”— the queen lifted one hand, stilling him—“weren’t you in need of my assistance?”
“Another time, perhaps, Your Majesty.” Preferably when he wasn’t so keenly aware of the grip Novalise’s emotions held on him. When her heartbeat wasn’t so perfectly in sync with his own. When the rushing of her blood and the symphony of her magic didn’t captivate him like a siren’s song. A time when, maybe, he could guarantee the breaking of their bond wouldn’t kill them both.
Novalise attempted to disentangle herself from Prince Drake, but Asher was done. He turned abruptly, heading toward the open doors at the end of the grand hall, frostfire and smoke brewing in his wake.
“Lord Firebane!” Novalise’s voice carried after him, but he paid her no attention.
He was too busy trying to ignore the hole that continued to burgeon within his heart. He stalked from the palace, more determined than ever, and only certain of one thing.
Bonds and soulmates be damned.
Asher would rather die than fall in love.
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
Novalise watched Asher retreat, his heartbreak palpable.
She had no idea what sort of torment he suffered, and she doubted he’d ever let her get close enough to him to find out. She chased after him, but only made it as far as the entrance to the grand hall. Her dress was too long and his stride was too quick, she simply couldn’t keep up.
Her magic ached for him, and a desperate longing filled Novalise. She wanted to comfort him, to soothe him. All the power of the stars yearned to be consumed by a riot of silver and black flames. Though she could sense his loss like it belonged to her instead, Asher shielded himself, barricading his heart from their bond. He was guarded, keeping his emotions under lock and key. Like a fortified stone fortress, one she would never be able to breach. Whatever hurt him, whatever was broken inside of him, was something she wouldn’t ever be able to make whole.
Standing on the threshold, she watched as he climbed into his carriage and the Eponian stallions ascended into the early evening sky. They banked to the northeast, cutting through wisps of clouds, then vanished from sight completely.
Novalise startled when the shadow prince appeared beside her. She didn’t even hear him approach. He was far too stealthy for his own good.
Prince Drake leaned casually against the considerable doorframe and crossed his arms. He stared at the swell of clouds, the same ones that obscured Asher’s carriage from view. “You have a history with that one?”
“Not exactly.” She lifted the hem of her gown and followed the smooth stone pathway away from the palace toward the wide courtyard where Svartos waited. “We kissed once.”
And in turn, it ruined her for anyone else.
