Page 21 of The Starlit Ring (The Chronicles of Liridin #1)

I spent the next two weeks at Zellia’s side, learning my duties as a maid, and becoming acquainted with Tocchian hairstyles, clothes, and customs. Though I was constantly exhausted, and often lost, I was well-fed, and the servants proved ready to accept me.

I answered constant questions about Olmstead, the battle, and the journey.

It took constant effort not to give myself away.

I catalogued lies the way Cranz catalogued his inventory.

Unlike Cranz, I didn’t have a notebook to help me keep track of everything.

My newfound popularity surprised me. I’d expected that no one would really care about me one way or another. But almost everyone wanted to know more, and few seemed to care when I fumbled with the laundry, dropped something, or tripped over my own feet.

In the mornings, I helped Ria get ready.

On bathing days, I accompanied her to the royal bathhouse (which Zellia excitedly informed me that servants were allowed to use one evening a week, a highly anticipated event) and scrubbed her skin and scalp.

I followed her to meals and took her laundry to the washing women outside.

I cleaned her quarters, and when I was considered properly trained, I was sent to clean Princess Odalla’s quarters, as well.

Once inside, I understood Ria’s offense at her own arrangements.

Everything in Odalla’s room was pristine, made of gold, silver and mother of pearl.

A writing desk with a dozen different colored inks sat in the corner.

Tiny, ornate daggers hung alongside the mirror.

A portrait of herself and her two children took up an entire wall.

Her husband, the Duke of Garick, was suspiciously absent.

Dead at war, I’d heard, although almost no one spoke of him, and there were few pictures of him in the palace. I’d have to ask Ria what she knew. Though Princess Odalla was nothing but polite, even to the servants, I doubted she would be forthcoming about the tragedy.

One evening after dinner, Avens found me. His red hair was perfectly tousled, curls draping across his forehead in the elegant way I’d expect of a noble, not the son of a farmer from Alberbrook. Though I’d enjoyed his playing over the last few days, we’d not yet had a chance to speak.

“I hear you’ve a new name.” He grinned, attaching to my side as fluidly as he had back in Olmstead. “I think I ought to know it.” A wink.

“It’s Arina now,” I said, keeping my voice soft so it wouldn’t carry. The hallway was mostly empty, with only a few servants scuttling back to their quarters after a long day. But one could never be too careful. Even portraits of dead men have ears, after all. “Please keep my name a secret.”

“Oh, my dear,” he sighed, clutching his heart with a ringed hand. “I would never tell anyone. Your new role is quite clear to me.” He lowered his voice. “Are you alright? What are you doing here? I heard what happened?—”

“I’m fine,” I whispered. “I followed Ria here.”

He nodded. Today, he wore a daffodil yellow suit embroidered with flowers.

Garish even by his standards. “Are you sure? Gods, I was so worried. There was no word for days, only absolute madness. I suppose you would’ve missed that, being in the mountains and all.

I tried to reach the castle, but when I heard Ria was coming here, I changed course.

” He glanced around to confirm no one was watching us, and added, “I was going to write you once I knew something. Imagine my surprise when you followed Princess Valeria to the feast.”

“I’m sure it was simply unbearable,” I teased, hoping that it wasn’t. That my arrival hadn’t caused him any distress.

His eyebrows raised. “Unbearable is one way to put it. I’d say it was perhaps more dizzying. And then to have to pretend I didn’t know you!”

“Thank you for that,” I said, pausing beside a suit of armor, reluctant to go any closer to the servants’ quarters. “No one knows?—”

“And I won’t say a word, believe me. I know how, um, treacherous your status is.”

“Thank you,” I sighed. “You’re a good friend, Avens. Truly. I don’t know if I’ve ever told you that.”

“You flatter me,” he said, but his smile was pleased. “Come find me if you need anything. And I do mean anything. I’ll be here through the wedding. If nothing else, we ought to have a drink.”

I could see the questions burning within him, but he was smart enough not to broach the subject here. “Thank you,” I said, and meant it. “I’m so glad to see a friendly face.”

“Come find me whenever you need me,” he promised, giving my hand a squeeze. “I’m always here for you.”

And then he was gone, melting into the shadows. It must be a learned skill, I mused, because no one wearing bright yellow should be able to disappear so effectively.

Especially not a person who made a living getting people’s attention and keeping it.

Someone shot past me, bumping my shoulder. I stumbled but managed not to fall. My gasp rang through the corridor.

Prince Marius stalked away, shoulders tight, hair bouncing cheerfully with every step, at odds with the fury that radiated from him like a fever.

Did he realize he’d just crashed into me? Anger coursed through me, hot as blood. “Excuse me!” I shouted after him. “Your Highness!”

People turned to stare at us. I covered my mouth, realizing I’d made a mistake. No sane servant would ever demand the Prince’s attention like that.

But it worked. He stopped and acknowledged me with a glower. “Miss Arina,” he rumbled, his voice husky, like he might be ill. “What seems to be the trouble?”

“You ran into me,” I huffed.

“Did I?” A slow smirk transformed his face from pleasant to terrifying. There was nothing of the Prince Marius I knew in those cold, calculating eyes. A shudder ran down my spine. “I’m sorry. I don’t pay attention to the insignificant .”

He said the word as though he hadn’t vouched for my very presence only a few days ago. My heart sank.

And then he was gone, as adept at disappearing as Avens.

The next week passed quickly.

Then, abruptly, the Solstice Festival arrived.

The castle was abuzz with good cheer and hurried preparations. Everywhere I looked, people were in fine spirits. Even Queen Tarra forgot to belittle the servants in her spare time, although that was largely because she was drunk on wine samples from vendors across the land.

“Representatives from Liridin are coming,” Ria told me one morning in her rooms. She lay in bed, lazy as ever, while I drew the curtains and opened the balcony doors in hopes of chasing away stale, musty air.

“And the sea—I mean, Plinath. I can’t even imagine.

” A wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows.

“I’ve been told not to try too hard. Apparently, they look very normal.

No fins or anything. Very disappointing. ”

“You’re not usually one for fairytales,” I remarked. In my reluctance to speak freely, I’d grown dull and nearly silent. Not even Avens could coax any enthusiasm from me, though he certainly tried.

“No, I suppose that’s more your area,” said Ria. She sat up with a yawn. “You must be excited.”

“I suppose so,” I hummed.

Ria frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I said quickly. If I answered the question, I’d surely break. How could I tell her that I missed Olmstead’s furious sea, the slate gray mountains, the forge that boiled like dragon’s breath, and most importantly, my freedom?

When I left Olmstead, I thought that I hadn’t any. That I was beneath King Amonrew’s thumb, nothing more than a bug caught by the leg, flailing and frantic.

And yet, I found myself more restricted in Tocchia.

As a servant, I was expected to either clean or tend to Ria.

I had no privacy—and no time—to work on my designs.

I only just managed to refresh my hairpin’s enchantment before falling asleep last night.

I’d known this might be a possibility, but I kept it in the back of my mind, hidden away where I couldn’t confront it.

I hadn’t expected to feel so entirely despondent.

“You’re lying,” said Ria, finally climbing out of bed. “What’s wrong?”

“When is your wedding?” I asked, eager to change the subject.

“In six weeks’ time,” she said, chewing her bottom lip. “Which is all the time you have to make your decision.”

“What decision?” I followed Ria to her wardrobe. She stared into it as though it were a gaping maw, ready to swallow her up.

“The decision to stay or go.”

“I’ve already made up my mind.”

“I’d plead with you to consider the alternative, but I know better,” said Ria, reaching for a pale blue dress. She rubbed the fabric between her fingers and sighed.

“There’s nothing for me in Olmstead,” I reminded her.

“Except your friends, your forge, and everyone you’ve ever known,” said Ria. “Isn’t that right?”

“Even if I went back, I wouldn’t have those things forever. You know Father would just marry me off and wash his hands of me.”

“Perhaps you’d find a husband willing to entertain your vices,” proposed Ria, with an enthusiasm that almost passed as genuine.

I shook my head. “That would be entirely too lucky.”

“Father likes you. I don’t think he’d marry you to someone who would make you miserable.”

“You don’t have to lie to me,” I said, reluctant to discuss the subject further.

“He tried to protect me from this madness,” said Ria gently, selecting a purple gown from the wardrobe. “I don’t see why he wouldn’t do the same for you.”

Protect her? I shook my head, but didn’t dare breach the subject. “Societal expectations?” I suggested. “A desire to simplify his life?”

Ria shook her head, so fiercely that her braid flew into her face. “No. You were always his favorite. You want to know how I know?”

I gaped at her like a fish on a hook. “How?” I demanded, hands on my hips.