Page 19 of The Starlit Ring (The Chronicles of Liridin #1)

How could Father paint Tocchia as weak and desperate when their royals lived in a palace such as this? Had the inside fallen to ruin? Or had I been lied to my entire life?

My heels clicked against the cobblestones. I stayed close to Ria, more intimidated than I wanted to admit.

“You’ll want to see your quarters, I presume,” said Prince Marius, appearing out of nowhere beside Ria, not unlike a specter. I suppressed a yelp. The last I’d seen him, he was drowning in a crowd of admirers, unfazed beneath the weight of their adoration .

Ria didn’t even startle. “Yes,” she said, clasping her hands before her. “I would very much appreciate some time to myself.”

The prince nodded. “And her?” he said, sparing me a glance the same begrudging way one might spare a grifter a coin. “Shall I have her escorted to the servants’ quarters?”

Ria shook her head. “I’ll take her with me. I’ll send her to her quarters after dinner.”

“A word of caution: the king will be at dinner. You’ll find he is an understanding man, but I’d not test him.

” The prince scowled. In the brilliant sunlight, he looked exhausted; his jerkin was covered in dust, his shirt stained with sweat and mud.

A necklace of black stone pressed against the hollow of his throat, diamond-shaped, streaked with white veins. A silver chain held it in place.

I frowned. I’d failed to notice this before.

Then I thought of his shirts, spilling frothy lace from the collars, and realized that he’d probably been hiding it all along.

Interesting. This was no precious stone. Not onyx, sapphire, black opal, or anything else that I recognized. It had an unusual quality to it, dull and listless. An odd thing for a prince to wear, and an even stranger thing to hide. It would tempt no thief and hardly required protection.

Prince Marius followed my gaze and adjusted the clasp of his jerkin. The necklace disappeared.

It must be enchanted. For protection, anonymity, patience—any value that could be imagined.

A prince would need such baubles, after all.

And I could make them for him, if only he asked.

The I remembered that I wasn’t fully trained, and my heart sank. Artificers were uncommon, but not so much that they were difficult to find. If Marius needed an artificer, he could get one without sponsoring my training.

Unless… Could I convince him? I imagined working in a Tocchian forge, finding a use for myself there. My heart raced.

But news would reach Olmstead. King Amonrew would know that I’d slipped away with Ria. He’d use my disappearance as an excuse to attack Tocchia.

A part of me felt that Tocchia deserved retaliation, but another battle so soon would break me from cracked stone to dust.

A servant named Zellia led Ria and I through the palace, chattering nervously.

Two long, neat braids hung over her shoulders.

“His Highness asked me to give you the grand tour on the way to your room. So much as I can, that is!” she chirped, gesturing across the enormous entryway.

“We will take the grand staircase to the third floor, where we will pass Her Majesty’s Queen Tarra’s quarters, Princess Odalla’s quarters, and the rooms of the children. You’ll be among good company.”

We followed up her up a staircase of gleaming white marble, threaded with grey.

A blue carpet softened our footsteps, so unbearably plush that I feared the tread of my boots might tear it.

Above us, a chandelier twinkled cheerfully.

The crown molding was gilded and elaborate.

On the ceilings were paintings of sea monsters and winged humans, extravagant ships dripping with gold, jewels, and naked women, books whose spines were encrusted with stones and blood, a woman on a broom zipping past fluffy clouds…

Everywhere I looked, a new section of ceiling depicted something else.

I tripped over my own feet, and Ria scowled at me. “Be careful,” she grumbled.

“Sorry,” I whispered. “Look at the ceiling!”

Ria glanced up, shook her head, and continued after Zellia as if she weren’t in absolute awe.

I paused frequently throughout the tour, constantly astonished. Even the side tables were exquisitely carved, far finer than anything in Olmstead. The tapestries were few but detailed enough that I wondered if each one was the crowning glory of a different artist’s career.

I stopped to admire vases, paintings and their frames, embroidered curtains, even the delicately carved tiles on the bathroom floor.

By the time we approached Ria’s room, my head was spinning. How had Tocchia accumulated such opulence? How was a kingdom with a reputation as weak and small able to maintain and defend such a household?

Tocchia’s subjects must be well-cared for, indeed, if they hadn’t stormed the palace and smashed it to bits by now.

King Amonrew feared such retribution and spoke of it often. Was that the reason our castle was so comparatively drab? Or was it an excuse to cover up our own lack of wealth?

“You must be excited to be here,” said Zellia, oblivious to Ria’s total disinterest and my own distraction.

“Oh yes,” said Ria, dour as ever. “I love being kidnapped.”

Cheeks blossoming a brilliant red, Zellia burst out, “Oh no, Your Highness, I merely meant that you must be glad of new accommodations after so long in a tent! I can only imagine.”

“If my father retaliates, you won’t need to imagine,” Ria hummed.

Horror and humiliation crossed Zellia’s face, turning her cheeks from red to nearly purple. “I’m so sorry, Your Highness. I spoke out of turn?—”

“It’s very beautiful here,” I interrupted, because I couldn’t stand to see anyone, even a servant, so incredibly flustered. “This palace is truly breathtaking.”

“Yes,” Ria muttered. “Breathtaking.”

I pretended that her glare wasn’t directed at me and gestured to a painting on the wall. “And who is that?”

“That is but a maiden,” stammered Zellia. “It is—I do not know her name.”

“Oh,” I said, supposing it was foolish to think that the woman sitting beneath a gnarled tree, and a sky full of shooting stars would be of significance.

Long, silvery blond hair fell over her shoulders, spilling across the roots of the tree like a winding river.

In one hand, she held a pitcher, in the other, the horn of a goat.

Her smile suggested that she knew something I didn’t.

We paused before the royal portraits. King Hergarv clutched a sapphire-topped scepter, one eyebrow slightly raised.

(I could see where Prince Marius inherited his expressive face, though he didn’t share the king’s features.) The crown atop his head gleamed gold; rubies and emeralds were arranged in a floral pattern across the front.

Queen Tarra’s portrait depicted a serene, deeply tanned woman amid a room with pristine, gilded furniture. A pale blue dress draped to the floor. Her crown was made of gold and aquamarine, her hair tied into a braid that dangled to her hips.

We reached Ria’s room, pushing through heavy doors that would surely withstand both arrow and sword, if not an ax.

The chamber wasn’t as lavish as I expected. Marble pillars, paintings of a sea at storm, sweeping velvet curtains, a basin of porcelain. A blue and gold rug cushioned the floor. The balcony was large enough to host its own gathering. The sea thrashed in the distance; its horizon dotted with boats.

I was immediately enamored, but Ria pursed her lips as she approached the four-poster bed, where a decanter of wine waited for her. A tray of tiny red fruits sat beside it.

I admired the posts carved with leaves and roses, the bedspread that smelled faintly of perfume.

“It will do,” said Ria at last.

“We will decorate it to your liking, my lady,” said Zellia hurriedly. “His highness was not sure what you might like, so he opted to leave the room relatively unfurnished.”

“He may be surprised to learn that I require very little,” said Ria. “My heart will not be won with baubles and hair pins.”

“Perhaps it could be softened,” I said, and immediately regretted my words.

Ria whirled around to glare at me, her eyes narrowed, nostrils flared, teeth bared like a wolf’s. “Do not dare suggest such things to me,” she said, and whirled on her heel to bare her teeth at Zellia. “Leave us. I’ve been informed I must prepare for dinner, and I intend to do so alone .”

“As you wish,” said Zellia, clasping her hands and backing away as if faced with a cougar.

“Do not suggest I ought to adapt to captivity,” Ria said as soon as the door closed behind us.

“I don’t think you understand what is going on here.

I don’t think you realize that I had no choice in this, that I had to cooperate or risk losing everyone and everything.

I didn’t want you subjected to this. I don’t want to be here at all, and I don’t know why you followed me, except to make my life difficult! ”

I flinched. “I didn’t want you to be alone. I thought you might need me.”

“ Need you?” Ria snarled. “Why would I need you? I’ve been training for this my entire life!

Everything has revolved around becoming Prince Marius’s betrothed!

What could you possibly have to offer me here?

” she hissed. “I wanted you safe at home, not stuck with me. Go home, Talina. I don’t need you. ”

Tears streamed down my face, but I stood my ground, shaking my head fiercely. “No. You need somebody here with you. I don’t trust Prince Marius.”

“Go home,” Ria said, turning her back to me. “It’s what’s best for both of us.”