Page 23 of The Starlit Ring (The Chronicles of Liridin #1)

I started carrying stones with me and enchanted them in my spare time.

It was difficult to do without a workshop or forge.

Most rituals involved a lot of time and materials, not to mention the repetitive spells that I wouldn’t be able to cast under my current circumstances.

But I enchanted little pebbles from the garden to bounce when I dropped them, or to glow dimly when shaken, or produce smoke when thrown violently.

Sometimes I charmed buttons on my blouse and boots—simple little things, nothing of real consequence.

A button to make my hair shinier, or to keep the soles of my shoes from falling apart.

Finding time to test them was difficult. Ria didn’t appreciate it when I filled her room with smoke, so I sometimes experimented in the empty chambers as I cleaned them.

My most recent creation was a round white stone that would heat in my pocket if Prince Marius was near. Which made it easier to track him—and avoid him.

The pocket of my apron grew warmer as I neared the library. Palms sweating but thoroughly cleaned, I approached the guard at the front entrance. “I was told that servants could enter if their hands were clean? ”

My voice shook. I hadn’t realized how badly I wanted to use the library until I imagined being told that I couldn’t.

I showed my hands, hoping they might curry the guard’s favor.

He made a face at me, like I was mouse that had just darted underfoot. A long moment passed as he regarded me. “Princess with you?”

I shook my head.

“Fine,” he said, standing aside. “Talk to Jorg before you touch anything. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good,” he said. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“You won’t,” I promised him, cautiously pleased. “Thank you very much!”

I hurried through the doors before he could change his mind, the stone in my pocket burning. Prince Marius was here, as he was nearly every night. His schedule was so rigid that I might’ve known even without the pebble.

Tall shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, heavy with tomes. Some of the spines spanned the width my palm. Floating lanterns bobbed between shelves, following patrons like silent guardians. Heavy, mahogany tables were piled high with books.

I glanced up and saw the second and third floors high above me.

Shouldn’t a library like this belong to a university, where more people could access it? No matter how well-read the staff were, there was no reason for the palace to have such an incredible hoard of books.

A tall, portly man approached me. His hair was brushed neatly to one side. His face, though severe, softened as he marched up to me and said, “Well, hello there. I have never seen you before.”

“I am Arina, maid to Princess Valeria,” I said, curtsying.

“I am Jorg, head librarian. What brings you here?”

I wanted to roll my eyes at his pompous tone but refrained. I couldn’t risk upsetting him. I needed access, if only to sate my curiosity.

“I was told that the servants could read the books so long as our hands are clean?” I said, again showing my palms. The skin was dry, almost leathery, and I was nearly ashamed.

But Jorg’s surprise wasn’t directed at my hands. “You aren’t here to retrieve something for the Princess?”

I shook my head. Valeria was never much of a reader. I liked stories and tales, while she had a better head for numbers, strategy, and fashion. “No, she didn’t send me. I happen to have a free evening, and a fondness for literature.”

“A fondness for literature,” Jorg repeated, voice growing dreamy. “In a maid. How unusual .”

“My upbringing was admittedly privileged,” I said, glancing down at my boots, now scuffed and worn.

“I see,” said Jorg slowly. “And how does a girl with such an upbringing end up as a maid?”

“My father died,” I said simply. “My mother was a worker in the castle in Olmstead. That’s how I got the position.”

“Tragic, indeed,” said Jorg with a solemn nod. “Very well. I trust you know how to hold a book and turn a page?”

“Yes,” I said, confused. “I’ve been inside a library before.”

“You might be surprised at the things some people think are acceptable behaviors. Follow me, please.”

And he took me on a tour of the library, past statues of long dead royals, paintings of dragons and great battles.

Figures of gargoyles looked down on us from atop the shelves.

We wove between bookcases, tables, and distracted workers filing books and papers.

On the third floor, hidden in the mythology section, I spotted Prince Marius sitting in an armchair, book balanced on his thigh.

On the table beside him was an open notebook.

The loose bun gathered at the back of his head was held in place by a pen.

His jerkin was such a verdant green that it felt like something conjured in a dream .

The stone in my pocket became unbearably hot. I clenched my teeth and smiled awkwardly as Prince Marius glanced at us.

I half-expected him to demand to know what I was doing here, but he didn’t seem terribly surprised, just annoyed. His eyebrows dipped downward as his lips tightened into a straight line.

Then he looked away, as if he couldn’t be bothered with my presence any longer.

My stomach twisted into a knot.

Good , I told myself. It’s better this way. It was kind of him to save me, but there’s no connection between us. There never was, and there never will be.

I was accustomed to being overlooked. Looked down upon as I was for my questionable parentage, I was still afforded certain privileges. But I was never treated with the same respect as my siblings. Plenty of people disregarded me, and I rarely took offense.

So why did it bother me when Prince Marius was the one ignoring me?

I wanted to rip the pebble from my pocket and lob it at his face. Instead, I focused my attention on Jorg and passed Marius by as if he were nothing more than a throw pillow.

To my great satisfaction, the lines on his forehead deepened as he watched us go.

Fine. I don’t care about you, either.

Ria was hesitant to accept my claim that there was no lover. But days passed, and I consistently found Prince Marius in the mythology section of the library, alone except for his notebook and ever-present scowl.

If there was a mistress, she met with him elsewhere.

The mythology section was well-hidden on the third floor, but it was easy to watch from between the shelves on the second floor.

Conveniently, this was where the romances were located.

So I read tales of grand and everlasting love while occasionally verifying that the prince was alone.

And alone he was, in the same spot every night, frustration written across his face like a script. If I’d cared about him, I might have been worried. What was he researching? Didn’t he have anything better to do with his nights?

Then, most curiously, he moved to another section. The same one I always passed despite the longing in my heart—Objects and Enchantments.

What does he want to create? I wondered silently. Was this the time to make a move, and offer my services? But a part of me was reluctant to step forward, to say anything, insisting that now wasn’t the time.

Eventually, I got lazy. I started enchanting pebbles between the shelves whenever I thought I was alone. Tested their light, their heat, their ability to track objects by changing from hot to cold depending on distance.

One evening, I was hidden away in the romance section, reading an especially steamy scene between a pirate and his recently kidnapped bride, who had fallen for his roguish charm despite their admittedly rocky start. Her blouse had just spilled open, and…

“I thought I’d find you here,” rumbled a deep voice.

I squeaked and hurriedly flipped the book so that the spine was hidden. “Good evening, Your Highness.”

Prince Marius loomed above me. Tonight, a cloak of midnight blue flowed over yet another frilly white shirt.

Tight-fitting black pants showed off his long legs, accentuating the muscles beneath.

Silver fastenings glinted on his boots; their leather was a gentle grey that reminded me of the stone floors of Castle Ackervail.

Long hair draped over his shoulder like moonlight.

Within the foamy collar of his shirt, the strange necklace was just barely visible .

My mouth ran dry. There was a peculiar heat in his gaze, a ravenous intensity that threatened to devour me whole. I wasn’t sure if I liked it.

What if I did?

Before I could decide, Prince Marius folded elegantly into the empty chair beside me as if we were two old friends rather than a prince and a maid.

“It’s curious to find a maid in the library,” he said, the words rolling off his tongue smooth as silk.

“But I’m not surprised.” He brushed a piece of hair behind his ear.

“Of everything that came of our journey to Olmstead, you were by far the most unexpected.”

Flustered, I began, “Well, I?—”

But he continued speaking as though he hadn’t heard me at all.

“And yet it’s even more curious that I’ve spotted you here several times now, bouncing glowing pebbles between the shelves.

I’ve also noticed you change the buttons on your blouse quite frequently.

” His eyebrows raised. “Care to explain?”

“Well, the buttons,” I sputtered, thinking of the heroine in the pirate romance, whose blouse had torn so easily beneath strong, passionate hands, buttons popping loose like seeds from a dandelion. “They weren’t sewn on very well, so I?—”

His scowl cut me short. “I was hoping you wouldn’t lie.”

“Who said anything about lying?” I demanded, shocked that he’d even noticed the changes to my blouses. I’d started charming buttons to maintain my hair color. They were harder to lose than a hairpin, and more easily replaced. Plus, I always had always a backup charm, even when I slept.