Page 18 of The Starlit Ring (The Chronicles of Liridin #1)

I heard nothing more from Prince Marius. Though he occasionally caught my eye and nodded politely, we never went within twenty feet of each other.

But the glint of his sword, the way he threw himself in front of me—it was unforgettable. An act of chivalry? Or something else?

There was no real warmth in his gaze, only idle curiosity. I didn’t even like him. So why did my blood run hot whenever I saw him?

Ria barely spoke to me the rest of the journey. Whenever I made a comment, she turned her back to me, wordless, and continued whatever she was doing as if I didn’t exist.

The next two weeks were miserable. Our rations ran low, and though deer and pheasant were plentiful, there wasn’t always enough to go around.

Snow fell at night, and the wind blew during the day.

The mountains formed a cage around us, and I thought I’d never see a way out.

That I could run down the trail for months, and I’d never find the end of it.

Until one morning, when we emerged at the top of a ridge. The mountains descended into brilliant green fields, punctuated by thickets of forest. Beyond them, a sapphire sea, sparkling under the rising sun.

The sight of it took my breath away. Rivers wound through a land dotted with trees, a more magnificent green than I had ever known.

At the edge of the sea, grey walls cradled a city at the top of a hill. Its roads cut through the land like the coils of a snake. Settled in the center like a tilted crown was the castle, white and gleaming, its towers capped in gold. Stained glass windows added a riot of color.

But the most shocking thing of all floated high above the hills, casting a great shadow across the land.

The floating kingdom of Liridin.

I’d seen illustrations before and thought them nothing more than flights of fancy.

But now I found myself face to face with a boulder the size of an actual island, hovering perhaps a few miles away.

Vines cascaded down the sides, drifting in the wind like seaweed in a current.

Thick, heavy roots spiraled free from the rocky base.

Every inch of the surface was covered in trees. White clouds drifted overhead, unbothered. When I stood on tiptoe, I spotted the very tip of a tower. A flag rippled in the wind, blue and purple and white.

In my effort not to let my gaze waver, I tripped over my own feet. Ria reached to steady me. When I turned to her, I saw that her eyes were as wide as my own.

“It’s real,” she mumbled. “All of it.”

“I know,” I said, unable to look away. The floating kingdom drifted across the sky, aimless as a cloud. A veil of mist surrounded its base. The longer I looked, the higher it rose, until the trees were cloaked in clouds.

“It doesn’t like outsiders,” said a passing soldier. “Stop staring at it.”

But I couldn’t. Not yet. Not when it felt as if my entire world had cracked open, spilling free the creatures and places of myth like a rich yolk.

This place was real. And I was going to live here, at least for a time.

Would I ever want to leave? If I did, would the decision haunt me like an old scar, a half-remembered dream of awe and horror, violence and desire?

I didn’t know, and that bothered me the most.

My memories of Olmstead were comparatively grey and dreary. The pops of color that I loved so much were suddenly dull and listless, no more than blobs among dirty snow and muddy roads.

Even Alberbrook couldn’t compare to this magnificence. For all that I’d loved its babbling brooks and tall trees, its sun dappled streets and beautiful architecture, Tocchia’s loveliness was of another tier.

Eventually, Ria and I were forced to move on, barked at by a soldier that we needed to keep up, lest His Highness be forced to intervene.

“We wouldn’t want that,” said Ria caustically, glaring at the solider, who lowered his visor and stared straight ahead as if he’d never spoken at all.

The next three days passed in an excited blur.

No longer did I feel devoured and depleted.

Spirits were high. Jerek and I sang along loudly to the marching songs, and sometimes Ria joined us.

Whenever I sang the wrong words on purpose, turning the lyrics from valiant to bawdy, she was sure to elbow me in the ribs. But I caught her grinning, too.

At night, laughter and chatter echoed across the campsite. The servants flurried about like dying leaves in a gust of wind, shaking out rugs, gathering the laundry, scrubbing the pots with a fury I’d not want directed at me. But they, too, were jollier, singing and laughing as they worked.

The weather improved. The terrible, blustery wind faded to a gentle breeze. The snow on the ground lessened, then disappeared as we grew closer to sea level.

The hills were a harsh terrain, the trails wet and rocky, but none of the Tocchians seemed to notice.

Occasionally, I glimpsed big eyes, fluffy cheeks, and waving tails lurking in the tall grasses.

Chipmunks and weasels darted about, watching eagerly as we ate, snatching food from unattended plates.

We passed settlements where villagers waved the blue and white Tocchian flag.

They ran out to greet us, eager to catch a glimpse of Prince Marius and the infamous Princess Valeria.

At his side, she held her head high, kept her gaze straight ahead, unyielding and proud.

Marius was more polite, making eye contact and waving, which excited everyone, especially the children.

But no one dared approach him, other than an old man who spat and swore.

We continued on our way with little incident.

I traipsed along after Ria, and smiled at everyone who smiled at me, because I wasn’t trained in the art of resentment. Not like Ria. No, I was taught to smile and wave and act graciously, and I found it difficult to do anything else, regardless of what my new position might require.

What was wrong with a friendly bodyguard?

Probably a lot of things, but I couldn’t think of any, and for now, that was justification enough.

We reached the city gates at midday. Though it wasn’t particularly hot, the sun beat down on us, blindingly bright, a force in its own right.

Perched upon a hill, the city of Dranning overlooked the sea. The wind returned with such force that it threatened to rip my hair free from its braid. Fat, white gulls circled overhead, fighting against the gale.

A crowd gathered to watch us outside the gates, far less generous than the peasants we’d passed earlier. The people here were just as dirty and tired, but they spat and swore with a malice that I didn’t anticipate.

I stayed as close to Ria as I could without imposing on Prince Marius’s guards. With one hand on my sword at all times, I felt suddenly inadequate. If someone lunged at my sister, could I fight them off?

Perhaps I should discuss my demotion with Ria later. I would make a woefully inept maid, but that would be better than allowing a situation where I couldn’t defend her.

We wound through the streets, passing markets, shops, stalls selling meat and bread. My stomach clenched at the mixed aromas. I’d eaten nothing palatable in days, and I suddenly longed for fresh bread and soft, easily spread cheeses, or rich, sweet jams.

Somewhere in the distance, a hammer clanged against steel. I stopped in my tracks, transfixed by homesickness, longing for the familiar forge, and the company of Ronnie and Cranz.

I was determined not to miss Olmstead. And so far, I hadn’t. I’d coasted along, careful to keep distracted so that I wouldn’t be overwhelmed with trepidation and regret. Ria needed me, and she was more important than anything else.

Besides, I craved freedom from the iron gauntlet that King Amonrew had constructed around me. Every day, its grasp grew a little bit tighter, until I realized that my arms were aching, my lungs struggling to fill. There was no room to flail or fight.

Maybe in Tocchia I wouldn’t have to worry about marriage, or birthright, or my perceived threat to the crown, or anything else. I could live as a normal person, and experience all that I’d coveted.

At least for a little while.

The roads carried us to the top of the hill, where a set of massive gates marked the entrance to the castle. I felt the scrutiny of guards at my back and fought the urge to shrink away.

Horse’s hooves clicked against cobblestones. The wheels of our wagons grew unbearably loud .

Here, no one screamed at us. Instead, they watched our procession with curiosity and some derision, eyes locked on Ria even as they showered the prince with enthusiastic cries, sweeping bows, and dipping curtsies.

We dismounted, and the wagons disappeared behind the castle, presumably to a back entrance.

The stone walls were smooth, gleaming white. They made the seagulls strutting through the streets look grey.

This was no castle, but a palace, I realized as we drew nearer.

Cobblestone roads were lined with elaborately maintained hedges in the shapes of griffins, bears, albatrosses, dolphins.

Flowers sprouted from carefully placed planters like clusters of jewels, pinks and blues and yellows more vibrant than I’d ever seen.

An emerald lawn sprawled lazily before the palace.

In its center, water sprayed from a tulip shaped fountain.

Carved above the main entrance was the Tocchian crest—blood dripping from a snake’s fangs. The sight of it made me uneasy.

Towers rose high into the air. Their windows were tall and rounded, the glass latticed. Vines crawled along the walls, dotted with tiny pink flowers. Balconies lined the upper floors.

The palace was at least twice the size of Castle Ackervail. Simply looking at it was overwhelming. What secrets lay within its walls? Would I get lost on the way to breakfast?

If I did, would anyone ever find me again?