All the Chaos of Constellations (Starstorm Series Book 1) by Hillary Raymer

Author:Hillary Raymer [Raymer, Hillary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BohoSoul Press
Published: 2024-03-25T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Asher stalked down the hall, bypassing his study, and headed straight out onto the terrace. He took the steps leading into the garden two at a time as a sense of unease, of restlessness built along his shoulders. He had to put distance between them. Being trapped in the cellar with Novalise was too much. It was agonizing being in the same space as her. To make matters worse, he’d lost his temper in front of her.

Raking a hand through his mussed hair, he treaded through the gardens, weaving a footpath through the ornamental trees and flowering rosebushes.

He could have hurt her, and Trysta Starstorm would have been right. He would be exactly like his father.

The thought alone caused his insides to twist, a ball of acidic frustration rolling in the pit of his stomach. He blew out a low, shaking breath.

Gusts of wind blew through the flowers and trees, shaking blossoms and leaves from their limbs and scattering them in all directions. The sun dipped behind a wall of ominous clouds rolling in across the horizon, casting long shadows as far as the eye could see. Puffs of gray roiled with smoldering black, stealing away all the ribbons of blue. The birds had gone silent, and in the distance, there was the low, menacing rumble of thunder.

“Asher!”

At the sound of his name, Asher whipped around to see Cyra rushing toward him with bundles of paper bags in both arms. The wind snatched at her hair, unfurling it around her like an inferno of flaming red and pale gold.

“Where’s Lady Novalise?” she demanded, her brows narrowing.

He jerked his head toward the house. “In the cellar.”

“You left her down there?” Cyra shifted the bags in her arms, huffing out an annoyed breath. “Honestly, Asher, and you call yourself a gentleman.”

“I thought—shit.” He tugged on the collar of his shirt, the sting of embarrassment crawling up the back of his neck. “Apologies, Cy.”

Her scowl only deepened. “I’m not the one in need of your apology.”

She turned on her heel, marching toward the house, a cloud of indignation hanging over her as a light rain pelted from the sky. Asher darted in front of her to grab the door just as her leg swung back to kick it open. The point of her heel connected soundly with his shin.

He grunted, wincing as pain shot up and down his leg.

“Serves you right,” she mumbled in lieu of an apology, striding past him. “I am mortified that you would leave her all alone, in the cellar of all places, while you—oh.”

Cyra stumbled to a stop and Asher almost plowed into her, hauling himself back before knocking his sister over.

There was Novalise, seated on the burgundy sofa in their sitting room. Her legs were tucked underneath her, and an open book was in her lap. Not just any book, he realized. One of his books. A storybook. The same one he’d read to Cyra when she couldn’t sleep at night.

“I’ve never heard of this story before.

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