Page 25 of The Starlit Ring (The Chronicles of Liridin #1)

I didn’t have long to panic, because the next day was the day before the Solstice Festival, and the palace was positively bursting with activity. I spent the morning making Ria look beautiful, then the rest of the day preparing rooms for the guests who would arrive at any moment.

Three of the guest suites had long, shallow pools built into the floor near the bed. Their size and shape reminded me of coffins. “What is that?” I asked Dalinda, the maid accompanying me.

She shook out a bedsheet with unnecessary vigor and sighed loudly. “I always forget you’re from Olmstead. You wouldn’t know, would you?”

I shook my head.

“Must be nice,” she mused. “Your world must have been so limited.”

Fine, so she wasn’t going to answer me.

I frowned down at the pool. “Is it for soaking?”

“Yes,” she said airily. “It’s for the representatives of the sea. They can’t be out of water for too long, and we can hardly lodge them in the bath house.” She laid the blanket on the bed and began tucking in the corners .

“Oh,” I said. The pool was hardly deep enough to submerge oneself in, but maybe that didn’t matter.

“Yes,” hummed Dalinda. “‘ Oh .’ Honestly. Didn’t they tell you anything before you came here?”

“Princess Valeria was educated in international relations. I was taught to style hair and defend her.”

Dalinda wrinkled her nose. “Olmstead sounds strange.”

“It would probably bore you,” I admitted sullenly.

“Oh, I agree,” said Dalinda, throwing the balcony doors open, so that sunlight and cool air filled the room. “I only asked to be polite.”

I bit my tongue. I’d worked with Dalinda once before and found her exhausting. She was mean in the most tired, exasperated way possible. Despite my best efforts, her comments got under my skin. The worst part was that I wasn’t even sure if she meant to upset me.

She probably did, but I couldn’t prove it, and she would never admit it.

Even partnered with Dalinda, the afternoon passed quickly.

My shoulders and lower back ached from all the beds I’d prepared, the floors I’d mopped, surfaces I’d dusted—an endless litany of chores.

I was so exhausted that I barely managed to shovel down tonight’s pottage before rushing upstairs to watch Ria eat in the great hall.

Usually, the servants’ dinners were heartier.

Tonight was pottage because it was easy to make, allowing the cooks to focus their energy on their preparations for the festival tomorrow, but I was still disappointed.

Plenty of people throughout the world subsisted on pottage and pottage alone for their entire lives, but my expectations were admittedly higher.

Perhaps too high, considering my current circumstances.

Worse, the High Table always had the most delectable of dishes—seasoned meats, honeyed vegetables, beautiful desserts. Weeks had passed since I’d taken a bite of cake, or a sip of wine. I knew I should be grateful I got to eat at all, but I was resentful of these royals and their delectable meals.

Guilt roiled in my stomach as I recalled everything I’d taken for granted in my previous life.

Guaranteed shelter, extravagant food, security, the king’s favor.

Things that only gained significance when I had to live as a servant.

It didn’t matter that Father forced us to do our own chores as children; until now, I had no real appreciation of my privilege.

I tried not to stare at tonight’s spread—braised beef, seasoned parsnips, buttery carrots, crusty bread, tiny cakes. By the way his lip twisted, I knew Prince Marius had caught me. I was quick to look away, but I didn’t dare hope I’d fooled him.

There were plenty of people I didn’t recognize, including two men with massive wings on their backs, shiny and chitinous like an insect’s, folded against their spines, not unlike a moth at rest. When they moved, their wings shimmered.

I could not help but ogle them. At first glance, they seemed nothing other than human, wearing dark leather pants, and tight black shirts whose backs scooped down like some of Ria’s more scandalous dresses. Making room for the wings, I supposed.

“Sky Kingdom,” mumbled one of the guards to my right. Hanson. I liked him well enough. He always seemed to know whenever I needed an explanation and was happy to offer one. “The dark-haired one is Toral. The blond is Halin.”

Toral and Halin. I tried to commit the names to memory. “Thank you,” I whispered.

“Toral is acting as regent while they wait for the heir to reappear,” Hanson added. “Remember that.”

Wait for the heir to reappear ? Had I heard that correctly?

But now wasn’t the time. Too much chatter would be seen as disrespectful, and I didn’t want to deal with Queen Tarra’s fury today. “And Halin?”

“Halin is a trusted advisor. Respect him, and you’ll be fine.”

I swallowed hard. “Right. ”

Neither representative from Liridin dressed to reflect their status. Both looked like they were ready for a day of sparring, not dinner at a royal palace.

No one cared. Toral and Halin sat across from King Hergarv, beside three extravagantly dressed individuals.

Jewels were sewn into their jackets. Rings glittered on their fingers.

One had tiny starfish pinned to his braid, while another wore a necklace of seashells.

A woman with pale hair wore earrings that might’ve been tiny sea urchins.

These must be the representatives from the sea.

They were terribly human, with no signs of fins or scales.

Ria was right—they were indiscernible from the rest of us, at least while they were on land.

I wondered if they changed when they reached the sea, or if they navigated the depths in human bodies.

That seemed ineffective, but then again, I wasn’t a very experienced swimmer.

I wanted to ask Hanson, but before I could, King Hergarv climbed to his feet and clapped his hands. The room fell silent. Even the servants ceased their bustling and stood at attention.

“I’d like to thank you for all for being here,” he began, smiling broadly.

He wore a robe of pale blue, so long that it draped over his heavy leather boots.

The Tocchian crest was emblazoned on his breast, grim and fierce as ever.

“I know the journey is not always easy, so I appreciate your presence even more.”

A few people clapped. Others smiled and nodded, a humble acknowledgement of their efforts.

“This is a very special celebration, as many of you are aware. Princess Valeria of Olmstead has agreed to marry my firstborn son, Prince Marius. She is here with us today, and I’d like to introduce her.”

At his beckoning, Ria rose. The expression on her face told me all I needed to know: she was fighting down panic.

Personally, I’d rather get it over with and stand before a crowd for a brief moment before returning to the safety of my seat, but Ria was in agony. Her grimace was tight and forced, her wave weak.

She would prefer a million personal introductions over one in front of a crowd, I thought, fighting the urge to roll my eyes.

The crowd, for its part, was very polite. Applause rang out, and Ria’s cheeks colored.

“Now that the introductions are over, I’d like to welcome you all to my court. Please enjoy yourselves! Tomorrow, we celebrate!” King Hergarv returned to his seat. Ria sat, nearly boneless with relief. Prince Marius spared her no concern and began buttering a roll.

And with that, the wine flowed, the food was devoured, and guests spilled out into the gardens, drunk and chatting amongst themselves.

Why did Prince Marius think I could possibly meet him at midnight? It was already evening, and this party wasn’t winding down any time soon. I could not escape my duties any more than he could his.

What a terrible plan. Why had I agreed to it?

I followed Ria for the much of the night, which meant that I was at Marius’s side, too. Not that he paid me any attention.

“Toral,” cried Marius, pausing as we passed one of the winged men from Liridin. “It has been too long! How are you?”

Toral embraced Prince Marius as one might a brother, grinning and slapping him on the back. “Lovely, as always,” said Toral. His gaze fluttered to Ria, and back again. “And this is your betrothed, yes? I apologize; we barely spoke over dinner. I’ve heard much about you over the years.”

“Oh?” Ria raised a skeptical brow. “What of me?”

“Your wit and beauty, primarily,” said Toral. “Which I can see now is absolutely true.”

Ria turned to me. “You can thank my maid. She’s responsible for this.” She gestured to her hair, braided into an elaborate bun .

I curtsied and tried to keep my face neutral. “I can take no credit for her wit.”

“But you can be proud of your work,” said Toral, beaming when I broke into a reluctant giggle.

“It’s a lot of work, Your Highness,” I said, only a little guilty about joking at Ria’s expense.

“Oh.” He shook his head, expression changing rapidly to something full of sorrow and regret. “No, I’m not… Please don’t address me as royalty. I’m merely a stand-in.”

“The heir of the Sky Realm has been absent for twenty-five years,” explained Prince Marius hurriedly.

“We have faith that he will return,” said Toral, though he didn’t sound especially convinced.

“Oh,” I said, twisting my hands and thinking how hopeless it all sounded. “Twenty-five years is a long time.”

“It is,” said Toral, smiling sadly at me. “A very, very long time. What is your name, Miss?”

“Arina,” I said.

“Miss Arina, it has been nice to meet you.”

“I hope I haven’t overstepped.”

“You haven’t, I assure you,” said Toral. “Speaking to you has been most refreshing. I find these royals quite stuffy.”

Marius gasped and clutched his heart, mocking offense.

I stared at him, dumbfounded. Was he drunk? I’d never seen him make a joke before.

“I jest, I jest,” said Toral, bumping his shoulder against Prince Marius’s. “You know I’m never bored.”