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CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

E ven in the winter, the city of Celestine was still magical.

The frost-covered shops glittered like gemstones despite the fact that the sun was hidden behind a veil of thick, gray clouds.

Fountains flowing with shimmery silver water that reminded Narissa of liquid starlight lined the main square.

The rooftops were all made of glass, crystals like rainbow moonstone, selenite, and blue sunstone decorated many of the storefronts.

She stayed along the main path with Sarelle, and they passed by an adorable bakery called Moonbeams—the front display showcased dozens of sweet treats—anything from tarts and pies to cakes and candies.

Whereas strolling through Azurvend was like taking a trip to the bottom of the ocean, Celestine was like walking among the stars.

It was positively ethereal.

“Oh!” Sarelle tugged her toward an ornately carved door depicting the Faerie Star—a dazzling star with eight points.

“This is it. Narissa, welcome to Divine Stars, my favorite shop in all of Celestine.”

Narissa stumbled inside behind Sarelle as the bell above the door jingled softly, announcing their arrival.

Divine Stars was magnificent.

There were racks upon racks of gowns and dresses in varying shades of the sky, anything from twilight to midnight.

Dusky silver, sapphire blue, deepest amethyst, and pitch black.

They were exquisite in detail, many of them embellished with pearls, diamonds, and other celestial-looking gemstones.

Along the far wall were shelves fully stocked with bolts of delicate fabric, and there were display cases lined with velvet featuring a dizzying assortment of jewels—rings, bracelets, necklaces, hair clips—all of them looked to be crafted from the stars.

Ribbons of lace and satin hung over the top of a glossy hardwood drawer brimming with gloves and…

stockings.

Sarelle rummaged through the selection of gowns, pulling one from the rack.

“I think you would look stunning in this one.”

She hoisted it up and Narissa’s jaw dropped.

“It’s…breathtaking.”

“I know. And it’s the only gold one of the lot.” Sarelle shimmied a little, tempting her with the decadent gown.

“I feel like it’s a sign. Besides, gold will look fabulous against your sun-kissed skin.”

“Fine, you’ve convinced me.” Narissa gave her a playful roll of the eyes.

“Though I must admit, I thought it would take much longer for me to find something to wear.”

“Nonsense.” Sarelle handed the gold gown to the shopkeeper and turned back toward the arrangement of dresses.

“I have an excellent sense of style. And I know I said I needed new gloves, but in truth I wanted to find a new gown for myself as well. The Yuletide Ball is one of my favorite events of the year, and it’s the first time I’ve been able to choose something for myself, instead of wearing whatever hideous garment my mother forces upon me.”

The mention of Lady Trysta Starstorm sent a prickle of unease trekking down Narissa’s spine.

She was well aware of the Starstorm siblings’ disdain toward their mother, and in truth, the Celestine matriarch had always seemed slightly off-putting and more than a little selfish to Narissa as well.

There was something about her manner, the way cruel ambition seemed to glint in her eyes, like there was a film of deception coating her aura.

Not to mention those annoying bracelets she always wore that jingled in the most obnoxious way.

“Will your mother be in attendance tonight?” Narissa asked, slowly making her way over to the drawer full of elegant, if not slightly scandalous, stockings.

“Most likely.” Sarelle shrugged then and her midnight hair shimmered, a sheen of stardust coasting the luxurious strands.

She fiddled with the long, gossamer sleeves of a gown.

“She’s not been home as of late. At least not since Creslyn and Drake’s arrival from Brackroth. It seems the palace is a more important place to be at the moment.”

Somehow, Narissa didn’t find that at all surprising.

Still, curiosity got the best of her.

“And what of Prince Aspen? Will he be at the Yuletide Ball tonight?”

Sarelle paled and ducked her head.

“I believe so, yes.”

“Are things…that is, are you still…” Narissa found it difficult to finish asking.

Sarelle was supposed to charm and court Aeramere’s prince in order to learn why he wanted to overthrow his mother.

But the supposed uprisings to the northwest had been silenced for some time now, and the last time there’d been any show of force was at Novalise and Asher’s wedding, nearly three months prior.

All of Aeramere had been oddly quiet since then, and Narissa secretly hoped all the dangers and talks of an impending war were finally over.

“I rarely see him. Ever since his impressive shape-shifting display at Novalise’s wedding, he seldom leaves the palace. At least, that’s what I assume based upon his lack of public outings. Save for his appearance at your wedding.” Sarelle pulled a black silk gown from the rack, then added four more to the growing pile in her arms.

“I’ve tried to make myself available at events where he is due to attend, but he always fails to show.”

Narissa helped her carry the dresses to one of the fitting rooms at the back of the shop.

“Do you like him?”

“I don’t even know him.” A pinched sigh escaped her, and she stole a glance around the small room to ensure there were no lingering patrons, no listening ears.

Her voice dropped to a hollow whisper.

“I just feel like this whole farce, or lack of one, will be a total disaster. And then I’ll have let Ariesian, and all of my siblings, down. I do not wish to be a disappointment.”

“Sarelle.” Narissa hung the dresses on the hook in the fitting room before facing her friend.

“You are never a disappointment. It is entirely out of your control if the prince is not around, you can only do so much. And you should not have to go out of your way to pursue him.”

Sarelle opened her mouth to object, but Narissa held up one hand.

“I know.” She drew the word out, then cupped Sarelle’s cheek.

“I understand the why. But you should not waste your time attempting to court a prince you want nothing to do with, especially not under false pretenses, when there are so many other lords who would fall at your feet if you accepted their arm.”

“Do you really think so?” Sarelle asked, her sapphire eyes brimming with hope.

“Of course not.” Narissa grinned.

“I know so.”

Sarelle laughed and sprinkles of stardust tumbled around them like faerie dust.

“Now, go try on these dresses for the Yuletide Ball.” Narissa winked.

“I have to go find a pair of stockings.”

“Make sure they’d gold!” Sarelle cried as she closed the door to the fitting room.

Gold stockings.

Narissa shook her head but made her way toward the front of the shop to the massive drawer displaying dozens of gloves and stockings.

The options were seemingly endless.

She’d never seen so many different lengths, different colors, and different details.

Lace with pearls.

Silk with diamonds.

Each set more fine than the last.

Perusing through the extensive selection, Narissa’s breath caught when she found a pair in gold.

The material was sheer, and would do absolutely nothing to keep her warm, but the back seams were dotted with aquamarines and the bands were intricate lace, woven with threads of pale turquoise.

Set on her purchase, Narissa scooped them up when the bell above the shop door jangled, and Lady Trysta Starstorm walked inside.

Narissa ducked behind the tall drawer of stockings and gloves.

She wasn’t exactly sure why she was hiding.

Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that she and Sarelle were just discussing her mother.

Or maybe it was because the Starstorm matriarch was slightly terrifying.

She marched into the shop with a commanding air, decked in an excess of violet silk and silver beads.

Her long white hair was carefully plaited and elaborate pins depicting stars pierced the coiffed braid.

Heavy kohl lined her lids, though it did little to mask the deepening lines fanning out from her eyes.

Her gaze was keen, her lips were pursed yet smug, and with each step, those atrocious bangles she wore clanked together noisily.

Narissa remained in her crouched position, carefully turning over the stockings in her hand, the perfect excuse would be to claim she dropped them if she were found out.

But for now, the spot behind the oversized drawer was perfect for listening.

Eavesdropping, as a matter of fact.

“I just do not understand why it is so difficult,” Lady Trysta muttered, her crackly voice grating like a shard of glass against rough stone.

“All I want is a small vial of moonshade, how hard can that possibly be?”

Narissa frowned.

A vial of moonshade was an odd request.

And to be fair, it was not easily harvested.

The last time Narissa had seen it on any shelves was some years ago in Galefell, and even then, it was a rather elusive element.

She couldn’t even begin to imagine why Lady Trysta might need it, or what possible use for it she could have.

On its own, moonshade was unremarkable.

Yet mixed with the proper ingredients, and imbued onto tools or ornaments, it could become something of great power with the ability to turn the mundane into the extraordinary.

Like the creation of glamour.

Lady Trysta’s impudent tone drew Narissa from her thoughts, and she peeked around the drawer.

“Honestly, Livian,” she scoffed loudly.

“Hespira was far more adept at her position than you.”

Hespira.

She was the one who came into the coffee shop with Lady Aria.

As though she’d been drowned by a rogue wave, recollection slammed into Narissa.

She remembered why Lady Aria’s lady’s maid looked so familiar—Hespira had come to Narissa a few years prior asking for honeysting.

It wasn’t in her interest to ask why a servant would have a need for honeysting, because the plant was often used to rid a home of pests.

But honeysting also emitted a sweet-smelling lethal toxin, one that could be crafted into a poison, and if Hespira was employed by House Celestine all those years ago, then…

Narissa clamped one hand over her mouth, silencing her gasp.

She twisted the stockings in her hand, wrinkling the fine fabric, as Lady Trysta swept from the shop with her cowering maid in tow.

Moonshade could create a glamour.

Honeysting could be used as a poison.

And the cause of death for Lord Zenos Starstorm, Solarius’s father, remained unknown.

Oh no.

Oh no.

Narissa had no idea how she would prove it, but she was fairly certain Lord Zenos had been poisoned.

By his wife.