Page 92 of All the Chaos of Constellations
“Good answer.”
Svartos swept down from the skies, landing on a smooth ledge near the mountain’s peak. Tucking in his obsidian wings, the beast lowered himself to the ground, huffing once, as though annoyed that his morning flight was forced to come to an end. She understood the dragon’s frustrations. She wouldn’t want to stay in one place either if she could fly whenever she wanted and never look back.
Prince Drake dismounted from the seat with skilled ease, then reached back up for her. Snagging her by the waist, he lifted her off the dragon’s back and set her down. The surface of the ledge was cold against her bare feet, like walking on ice.
She shivered, clamped her jaw tight to keep her teeth from chattering, and she wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the chill.
She peered up at the shadow prince, but even with the golden rays stretching out above the mountain’s peak, the sunlight never seemed to touch him. “Thank you for taking me home.”
“Farewell, my lady.” He nodded sharply, climbing back into the seat atop his dragon without a backward glance. “And until I see you again, mind yourself.”
Novalise wasn’t sure what he meant, if he intended his words as a proper goodbye or a warning. She didn’t have time to ask, because in the next breath, Svartos pitched into the dawn and she scrambled back to avoid being taken out by one of his majestic wings.
The mountainside sloped as she trekked down to where the sprawling gardens glittered with beads of dewdrops. The starlight fountain gurgled in welcome, its shimmery silver waters sparking with the fire of a dozen rainbows. Not so long ago, she’d tumbled right into that fountain, landing in Asher’s lap. She meandered along the winding path toward the house, admiring the ornate complexity of climbing roses and the neatly trimmed hedges bursting with lavender blossoms. Inhaling deeply, she enjoyed the mingling fragrance of multiple florals, taking the time to distract herself from anything that reminded her of Asher.
But it was a useless feat.
He was everywhere.
The scent of him lingered on her skin, and anytime she blinked, she saw him in her mind’s eye. She tested the bond, softly calling to him. The only answer she received was the steady beating of his heart and a despondent sense of calm. She sifted through his emotions—remorse, melancholy, and the crushing pain of heartache—and collected them like shards of broken glass. There had to be a way to piece them back together, to make him whole once more.
A simple apology would not be enough.
She would stop at nothing to earn his trust. His love. He was more than her mate—what they shared was more than a magical kiss beneath an enchanted flower. They were not bound by the stars, but chosen, their destinies forged together by a force stronger than fate. Estrela and the Great Stag came together every Winter Solstice. It was no mere coincidence the same happened for them. Her love for Asher was endless, binding.
He calmed the unhinged panic that left her quaking with disquiet. He emboldened her sense of self, beckoned her to seize the life she wanted, not only what she was told to accept. He told her once to defy the stars, encouraged her to take the destiny she desired most and not settle for what she was given, and right now, she wanted him. For in her mind, a life without him was not worth living.
Perhaps a drastic measure was needed in order to evidence the depth of her affection.
Novalise walked in through the front courtyard of House Celestine, knowing exactly what she had to do to repair the bond between them, and came face to face with her mother.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-SIX
Exhaustion tugged at Asher. Tension coiled in his shoulders and a dull ache throbbed at the base of his neck, reaching up to his temples.
He’d been staring at the same stack of books for hours after leaving the Firelight Festival without bothering to bid anyone farewell. After his argument with Novalise by the faerie pool, he’d been all too eager to get away from the noise, to clear his mind. But the festival was always two nights in a row, and unfortunately for him, he still had to suffer through one more evening of being socially acceptable.
At the time, sleep had eluded him, so he’d gone to his study instead. He preferred the quiet, the calm, and the soothing, albeit lonely, silence. Except now, dawn was cresting. Its rays slanted in through the window, illuminating every minuscule fleck of dust, and intensifying the ache in his head. Already he’d read the same paragraph four times, and he was no closer to uncovering the whereabouts of thevirdis lepatitethan he was a few hours ago.
He picked up his glass of whiskey, the ice long since melted, and swallowed down what remained of the amber watery contents. The woodsy flavor coated his tongue, and the hint of spice burned the back of his throat. Running one finger along the rim, he flipped the page of the book in front of him, the rune markings gradually becoming smudges of ink and blurring together.
Asher leaned back in his chair, and stretched out his legs. He adjusted his spectacles, sliding them down the bridge of his nose to rub away the fatigue from beneath his eyes. Reading and studying for pleasure were one thing, but transcribing runes was another beast entirely. It was tedious. Interesting yet draining at the same time. Deciphering their meanings was something he used to enjoy. Now it had become painstaking, if not altogether miserable.
If he’d been smart, he would’ve swallowed his pride and asked for Novalise’s assistance.
But the thought of her was torturous.
Her harsh words drifted through his subconscious even as he tried to distract himself with work. Despite his best efforts, the cruelty of them continued to linger.
She’d carved out his heart, stolen a piece of him he’d never thought to give away.
Stiffness crept along his shoulders, causing the muscles to pull taut. He rolled his neck, the distinctivepopoffering him a thin slice of reprieve.
A gentle tap sounded on the opposite side of his study door. It creaked open and Cyra peeked in, clad in her nightgown and bronze satin robe. “Ash?”
He lifted his head, and she stepped further into the room. “Asher, it’s just after dawn. Have you even slept yet?”
“I have not.”
