Page 13 of The Starlit Ring (The Chronicles of Liridin #1)

I packed my things in a daze. My sword, an assortment of knives, stockings and knickers, some jewelry that could be sold easily, a notebook and quill pen, a bottle of ink, and my least conspicuous clothes.

This is never going to work , mumbled the little voice in the back of my mind as I sneaked into the kitchens, raiding the pantries for dried fruit, nuts, strips of jerky, hard cheeses, and finally, a loaf of rye bread that someone had abandoned on the counter to harden overnight.

This is never going to work , said that same little voice as I slinked between transport wagons, trying to avoid the Tocchian guards stationed nearby.

This is never going to work . I hid my bag in the wagon that would be most easily accessed from the back gardens.

This is never going to work . I kissed Ria’s cheek goodbye. My father’s hand closed over my shoulder.

This is never going to work . I darted through the garden like a butterfly drunk on pollen, fluttering from flower to flower in a sleep-deprived haze.

This is going to work , I thought, almost surprised as I crammed myself into the back of the wagon, squeezing between boxes of supplies.

This is going to work . I slid an enchanted pin into my hair and watched as the strands turned from red to honey brown before my very eyes.

All through the city and along the steep trails into the mountains, that same thought rushed through my mind. Again and again, until I clutched my knees, buried my face in them, and wept properly.

Would the Tocchians think I was a spy? An assassin? Both crimes were punishable by death. As the day wore on, my worry compounded into something tight and crushing.

Night fell. The wagons ground to a halt. Tents were pitched, fires constructed. Voices melded with the howling wind. I held as still as I could, afraid someone might sense my presence if I dared think too loudly.

A rustling came from outside my wagon. The cover was pulled back. Someone grunted and dug through the supplies. I held my breath and sat as still as I could, hunching in on myself like a mouse. I pulled my hood over my head and hoped it would help me blend with the shadows.

But that wasn’t enough. Eventually, the box that I was hidden behind was removed, dragged nearly to the end of the cart before I was spotted. It was difficult to see the soldier’s face in the dying light, but his voice tore through me like a spear. “Stowaway! We’ve got a stowaway!”

Brutal hands grasped my shoulders, dragged me across the crates, threw me to the ground. A crowd gathered, soldiers and servants alike come to ogle me.

I stared back at them, panting in horror, scrambling backwards until I collided with metal-clad shins. Gauntleted hands reached beneath my armpits, hauled me to my feet.

I was right all along.

This was never going to work.

They bound my hands and hauled me to a tent. I kicked and flailed instinctively, unable to bite down panic. I should cooperate. I should show that I mean no harm. But they shouted, and pointed weapons at me, and Ria was nowhere in sight.

Would they kill me without bothering to ask what I was doing in their wagon?

Would they throw me out into the wilderness come morn, and leave me to navigate the woods alone?

(My foraging skills were lackluster at best, but I could find my way home.

I’d only been gone a day. If the soldiers showed me mercy, I might survive after all.)

Would they consider stowing away some sort of treason? Had I just doomed my entire family? Would we be safer if I lied about my identity?

I wriggled and writhed as they shoved me to the ground. As I crashed to my knees, a spear angled toward my throat.

“Wait,” I croaked. “I can explain?—”

“And you will,” hummed one of the soldiers, a mustached man. “As soon as we retrieve the captain.”

The pebbled earth was rough beneath my skin. I rolled my leg very slightly, not enough to attract attention. My knives were still strapped to my thighs, though they meant nothing if I couldn’t reach them.

I was too shocked to fight back. I’d assumed I’d be discovered at some point, but hadn’t thought it would be so soon. If my plan (poorly conceived as it was) was perfectly executed, Ria would protect me.

But now I wondered if anyone would bring her to me. If I’d have the chance to ask.

And even if she fought for me, would anyone listen? She had no authority. After all, what was she but a prince’s stolen betrothed? I thought that the Tocchians were merciful, but now I wondered if I’d made a mistake in hoping that they wouldn’t kill me.

If I screamed my name, would they listen?

“The princess,” I gasped. “I’m her maid. She forgot about me.”

“What?” guffawed one of the guards, spinning to stare at me. His eyes were a piercing green. “I—She really expects us to believe this,” he said, turning to the guard next to him, gesturing wildly toward me.

“If you find Her Highness,” I squirmed, twisting my shoulders so that I faced the mustached soldier as non-threateningly as possible. “I assure you, she can?—”

“Why the fuck would a maid sneak into a wagon? Are you so desperate to keep your job?” The point of a sword pressed against the pulse point of my throat. Hot tears gathered in my eyes. “Or are you a spy?”

“Please,” I whispered. “Princess Valeria?—”

The mustached man swore and stepped out of the tent. “I’ll go fetch His Highness. Bleeding Yaarkas, of course we find a lunatic…”

Another time, the invocation might have intrigued me. I knew little of Tocchian customs, and I was surprised to hear a soldier mention Yaarkas, the sacred army of the goddess Haline, who represented fairness in war. Was the mustached man from Olmstead?

Tocchian gods were dark and haunted, and rarely overlapped with ours.

Olmstead shared its southern border with Alberbrook, where the gods were gentle and serene, healers and peacekeepers that contrasted with our bloody warlords, who rode chariots through the stars, accompanied by fortune telling cats and lobster guardians.

With two weapons pointed at my throat, I couldn’t afford to ponder further.

Ria was coming, I told myself. Ria would vouch for me. Ria would get me out of here, even if it meant I was sent back home, where Father would never let me out of his sight again.

Right now, I thought that might be preferable.

Stuffed into the back of a wagon, I’d crouched miserably among crates that slammed into my ankles every time we started up or downhill.

The number of times I thought I’d be crushed exceeded twenty.

I spent hours battling a full bladder, on the verge of regretting my decision.

But I couldn’t let Ria suffer alone. Even if I respected the Tocchians for killing as few of our people as possible, they’d still attacked our spring banquet, broken down our doors, terrorized our guests, and stolen away my sister.

Whatever unknown she headed into, I wanted to be at her side.

Outside, there was a commotion. A flurry of stomping feet and cracking twigs, the rustle of skirts.

“What is the meaning of this?” snarled a familiar voice. “I have no need of a maid, I’m perfectly capable?—”

The tent’s entrance flap shifted, and two faces peered inside. One belonged to Ria—streaked with dirt and utterly furious. The other I didn’t recognize, but I knew right away that he wasn’t the captain of the guard.

Long blond hair the color of old bone was tied loosely into a ponytail that reached nearly to his waist. Wide, ice blue eyes, plush lips, a pointed chin, and a long, straight nose that accentuated already prominent cheekbones.

No facial hair smoothed his sharp features.

A pale blue jerkin accentuated his tapered waist and broad shoulders. Dark pants clad his long, slim legs.

He should’ve seemed innocuous, but I saw only raw power simmering beneath his vaguely confused expression. I didn’t know why, but I was certain he could kill me if he wanted to, and I’d never see it coming.

Even bound and afraid, I couldn’t help but stare. Never had I seen anyone quite like him .

“Princess Valeria,” I began, wrenching my body to face her, trying not to fall flat on my face. If I fell, those blades would surely pierce my throat. The last thing I wanted to do was bleed out in front of my sister, who would probably not share the luxury of oblivion for quite some time.

“Oh gods,” choked Valeria, clapping a hand to her mouth. “Wait, please! I know this maid. You can’t kill her!”

“That’s right!” I panted. “She can’t do her own hair. It’s terrible. Someone has to save her from herself?—”

“It’s true.” Valeria glanced anxiously at the man beside her.

“We can provide you a maid, you know,” he said in a low, smooth voice that sent shivers through me. While his lips pressed together in suspicion, something else danced in his eyes. Amusement? Bewilderment? “Or you could have just asked to bring her along. There was no need to go to such lengths.”

“I didn’t—” said Valeria, snapping her mouth shut as she thought better of it. “Well, I suggested that perhaps my favorite maid might accompany me. I didn’t mean for my invitation to be interpreted this way.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, and meant it. “I changed my mind, and there wasn’t time to find you.”

Ria scowled at the man beside her. (Prince Marius, my mind supplied, though I couldn’t be certain.) “Yes, there was very little time to negotiate anything. You were not the only valued servant I was forced to leave behind. Perhaps Prince Marius might be open to forgiving your intrusion, and allowing you to continue to serve me in Tocchia?” She raised an eyebrow, and the man beside her frowned.

“Are you certain she is exactly who you say she is? Merely a maid, and nothing more?” His voice was rich and smooth as the finest wine, but the note of scrutiny never faded. My cheeks colored.