Page 20 of The Starlit Ring (The Chronicles of Liridin #1)

I spent the next hour on the balcony, staring out at the sea, lost in my thoughts like a boat among the waves.

There was no way I could return home now. I’d have to hope Ria didn’t banish me. As much as she might think she wanted to be alone, I knew better. This palace would become lonely fast. If I left, she would sink into melancholy.

A part of me thought perhaps she deserved to be alone. The cold ocean air was no balm for the sting of her words.

But I didn’t believe in vengeance. Not in the ways of kings and courtiers, anyway.

Eventually, Ria came to join me, shamefaced. “I’m sorry,” she said, joining me at the railing. “I was too harsh.”

“It’s alright,” I said, staring out at the dark waves.

“You were wrong to follow me,” she said, scuffing her toe on the white stone. “This is very, very dangerous, Talina. I’d rather you weren’t here right now.” She exhaled slowly through her nose. “But I’m grateful for your company. Let’s go to dinner and see what we think of this place.”

A real, tangible goal. Even if it was a simple one, it was a much-needed distraction .

I forced a grin. I was still upset, but there was no point in continuing this argument. “Finally!”

She rolled her eyes.

I stuffed Ria into a gown of purple and silver and piled her golden hair high on her head. A necklace of silver and amethyst trembled at her throat with each breath. I painted her eyelids a deep purple, drawing out the blue of her irises.

Though this was far from the most spectacular she’d ever looked, Ria grinned at her reflection. “Perfect.”

While Ria slipped into her shoes, I scrubbed down with a rag, checked that my enchanted hairpin was still in place, and prepared to follow her.

Father would never have approved of my appearance, but I was only a well-armed maid now, so I trailed after Ria, wondering where exactly we might find the dining room.

Zellia must have anticipated this problem because she met us at the end of the corridor, an anxious smile plastered to her face. “We’ll be dining in the gardens tonight,” she said. “A proper feast for our guest of honor.”

“Thank you,” grunted Ria.

I poked her in the shoulder blade, hoping to convey that a proper princess wouldn’t be so glum.

Her spine straightened, but her frown never faded.

Whatever. I’d take what I could get.

But something niggled at the back of my mind as we wound through the long, brightly lit hallways. Would anyone here recognize me? Even with my new hair color, there was always the risk that someone might remember my face.

That was impossible, I told myself. Almost no one from Tocchia came to Olmstead. No guards had accompanied Ria. No chaperones .

I would be fine. At least for now.

We arrived outside accompanied by Zellia. Braziers blazed on either side of the door. The sun had only just begun to set, casting the sky in orange and gold.

Tables laden with food were arranged across the lawn. A fountain bubbled not with water, but with rich, red wine. Servants fluttered around us like bees at a hive, carrying trays of food and drink. Courtiers meandered about the gardens, carrying drinks or small plates with them.

My knees weakened at the smell of the impending feast. Roasted meats, sweet breads, glazed vegetables, platters of fruit, an array of desserts. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was.

A band was set up around the fountain—a harp, a flute, a lute, drums, a hurdy-gurdy.

I recognized the hurdy-gurdy player at once. With his delicate red curls, and plethora of freckles, I’d know Avens anywhere.

His eyes widened at the sight of me. I was quick to brush my fingertip to my lips, and he was just as quick to dip his chin in acknowledgement.

Later, I’d have to answer his questions, but for now, I was relieved to see a friendly face. Avens wouldn’t betray me, even if he was a terrible gossip.

A servant in coattails spotted Ria and drew toward us.

“Your Highness,” he said, taking her hand, kissing the back of it as he bowed deeply.

“It is truly lovely to meet you. I am Herber. It falls upon me to introduce you.” He took a deep breath, adjusted his hat, and cleared his throat, drawing stares from all the way across the garden.

“Announcing Princess Valeria of Olmstead, betrothed to Prince Marius of Tocchia!”

Valeria raised her hand in an imitation of a wave, face forced into a pained grimace. Polite clapping followed, then faded. A hush fell over the garden. Courtiers clambered over one another for a closer look.

I recognized King Hergarv from his portrait as he stepped forward. At his side was Prince Marius, looking less than enthusiastic. His long hair draped over his shoulders, a stark contrast to his deep blue jacket, embroidered with silver.

The color flattered him. A blush rose to my cheeks. I ignored it as best I could. So what if he was attractive? It didn’t make up for the way he’d stormed our castle and taken my sister away from everything she’d ever known.

But I couldn’t stop staring at his cheekbones, admiring the way his pointed chin moved as he spoke.

Gods above, he was so fucking pretty.

Prince Marius made his way toward us, the sword at his hip catching the sunlight. Ria squared her shoulders and made a face as though she’d just bitten into a salted lemon. With his jaw set and nose wrinkled in distaste, Prince Marius looked like he returned the sentiment.

They hated each other. Their animosity was unmistakable, but I’d hoped it might fade in time. Looking at their expressions now, I doubted that they would ever have a happy moment together.

What a miserable fate. I shuddered, and followed them to the banquet table, where King Hergarv and Queen Tarra waited. Beside them stood Princess Odalla, the king’s eldest child. A silver circlet held her long, dark braid in place.

A man nodded to Ria. He was tall, bronze-skinned and broad shouldered, with dark, shorn hair and warm, hazel eyes. A golden jacket emblazoned with silver clung to his shoulders. This must be Queen Tarra’s heir.

“Lovely to meet you,” he said to Ria, bowing low. She blushed furiously. Beside her, Prince Marius looked more than a little annoyed. “I’m Prince Gavin.”

“I’m delighted to meet you, Your Highness,” said Ria, her voice reaching a squeak.

Prince Gavin took a step back, and King Hergarv took his place. “Princess Valeria,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to see you again. I hope your journey was as pleasant as possible. ”

“I’m sure it might have been more pleasant under other circumstances,” suggested Princess Odalla gently. “I am glad to see you unharmed and well.”

Ria bristled at that. “Thank you,” she said. I could tell that she was burning with resentment, eager to let Princess Odalla know exactly how much she did not appreciate her current arrangement.

Queen Tarra barely spared Ria a glance, but her eye caught mine. I looked away and tried not to feel like a lumpy pastry scrutinized by a picky baker.

“What is this?” she demanded. “A maid? There are no maids at my High Table. Send her away.”

Some of the servants puttering nearby hurried their movements. One or two spared me a concerned glance.

“This is Miss Arina,” said Prince Marius, coming to stand beside me. “She has a unique role, and Princess Valeria requested her presence.”

“A unique role?” Tarra repeated, pressing a hand to her forehead. “No. We don’t do that in Tocchia. No maids at the table. Out with her.”

“I really must insist,” said Prince Marius tersely. “Princess Valeria is my future wife, and this is one of her customs. Miss Arina is both a maid and guard.”

Tarra pursed her lips and stared him down for a long moment. “Fine,” she snapped. “For now, she can stand behind the table with the other guards. Despite looking completely ridiculous,” she added.

I didn’t flinch, but it was a close call.

“A plainclothes guard has her advantages,” said Ria calmly.

“It is most unconventional,” said King Hergarv. He adjusted the golden circlet upon his head, and sighed. “We will discuss the propriety of this later,” he added. “For now, we will abide by Princess Valeria’s customs.”

“Thank you, You Highness,” said Ria, curtsying. It was the first time all day that she’d acted grateful for anything, and I was quietly relieved.

Dinner lasted for hours, and my stomach grumbled as each course arrived—fingerling potatoes, glazed carrots, roasted pheasant, stewed duck, sugared plums, a wine pudding that looked like congealed blood dusted in fine sugar.

By the meal’s end, I was so hungry that I doubted I could easily defend Ria, let alone take down her hair.

“They usually save some food for us,” mumbled one the soldier to my left, smirking at my stomach’s endless, grumbling protests. “Or we eat beforehand in the barracks.”

“I don’t recommend these events on an empty stomach,” added the soldier to my right.

How often had the servants in Olmstead starved while watching me eat? Guilt fluttered in my chest like a trapped bird. I longed to free it, but didn’t know how to. Not without breaking myself open.

Conversation remained light and infrequent.

The courtiers chattered endlessly at their tables, laughing and drinking, but the High Table was awkward and solemn.

Ria shifted uncomfortably every few minutes, but no one paid her any heed.

Queen Tarra shot me dirty looks. Prince Gavin caught my eye and gave an apologetic wince.

I responded with a wince of my own. That drew a wide grin from him, and he returned to his potatoes, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

Princess Odalla picked at her food. Prince Marius followed suit, seemingly unimpressed until the pheasant was served. Of this he ate a few bites.

Queen Tarra avoided the potatoes and ate parsnips and beets instead. Princess Odalla had room only for wine pudding and a few bites of duck. The King favored large chunks of bread dipped in leftover sauces and stews.

It seemed pertinent to know their tastes and habits. The more information I had, the more likely I was to survive this place .

With no food in my belly, the danger seemed more real than ever.

The evening passed tediously. Ria sneaked me a few bites of bread, but they were hardly enough to sustain me as I followed her around the gardens, begrudgingly introducing herself to anyone who showed an interest. Prince Marius stood at her side, a silent statue, greeting only a chosen few.

Was he tired? Angry? I couldn’t tell. Once, he caught my eye and raised a curious eyebrow, as if wondering what I thought of all this.

I didn’t dare respond to him like I had Gavin, whose demeanor was pleasant and unthreatening. While I doubted Prince Marius would hurt me, he had power over Ria, and I wouldn’t do anything to put her in a bad position.

We were on what felt like our millionth introduction when Prince Marius broke away, making a beeline for a table with a spread of cheese, fruits, and sausages.

Of course he was hungry. He’d practically skipped dinner. I watched him with keen desperation.

I wasn’t accustomed to hunger in the way that a servant probably ought to be. This was a weakness that would rouse suspicion. One that I needed to control, and quickly.

Prince Marius thrust a plate into my hands. “Take it,” he said. “I know you didn’t eat. Zellia told me that you didn’t report to the servants’ quarters for the evening meal.” An eyebrow quirked. “And I can hear your stomach.”

I stared blankly down at the plate. It was a modest affair, but more substantial than anything I’d eaten in days. Berries, cheese, bread, a few slices of hard sausage that glistened with fat. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

One of Marius’s guards chuckled .

“Let it never be said that I don’t take care of my own,” Marius said, looking out over the swarming crowd.

I ate hurriedly and in silence, avoiding the suspicious glares of well-dressed nobles, and the prodding gazes of servants—some perplexed, others jealous or judgmental.

Considering the circumstances, it was the best meal I’d had in a long time.

At the end of the evening, when the members of the band had begun to sweat through their finery, Avens had all but lost his voice, and the courtiers had gone from merrily to miserably drunk, Ria bade the royal family goodnight. We returned to her rooms with Zellia at our heels, chattering away.

“You’ll want to follow me to the servants’ quarters,” she said. “After you finish helping Her Highness, that is.”

“Oh,” I said, still thinking of all the food I hadn’t gotten to enjoy tonight. “Is that where I’m staying?”

“Well, yes,” said Zellia, looking at me in confusion. “That’s where the servants live.”

“Right, yes, of course,” I said, flustered.

I helped Ria take her hair down and change into a night gown, then followed after Zellia, too tired to converse.

“You’ll like it here,” she said, leading me down one set of narrow winding stairs, then another. “Our quarters are tight, but they’re clean and warm, and there’s always plenty of food.”

My stomach growled again, and Zellia laughed. I wondered if she’d seen Marius bring me food and wanted to flinch away.

The servants’ quarters were crowded. My bed was a simple cot, separated from the others by a thin, woven divider. There was only a tiny dresser for my things, and two hooks on the wall. I stuck my sword under my bed, unsure where else to store it.

Then I slept like the dead.