Page 28 of The Starlit Ring (The Chronicles of Liridin #1)

T he next day was so chaotic that I completely forgot about Prince Marius and his cursed ring.

I spent the morning making Ria look like a goddess, stuffing her into a pink and green gown, braiding ribbons into her hair, coloring her eyelids.

By the end of it, no one would ever guess that we’d had three arguments, done her hair twice over (my first attempt was off-center) and that she’d accidentally launched a shoe across the room in her attempt to dress quickly.

I was near to tears by the end, furious at both Ria and myself. I dared not tell her anything about my meeting with Prince Marius, but my exhaustion was visible, and she kept asking if I’d slept at all the night before.

He hadn’t even mentioned the position with the forge.

Fury burrowed into my breast like a wild, clawing animal.

Even though I knew I didn’t want to explain myself, that it was better if I never saw the position, I couldn’t help but feel betrayed.

I sneaked out and I stayed up late, all to help him stare at a piece of carved bone that made my insides crawl.

Ria was upset about her lopsided braid (which I’d already corrected), and my hands were shaking, my stomach was growling, and everything was dreadful.

At last, Ria was more than presentable, and I followed her to breakfast, where I had to watch her eat all the things I’d once loved. I’d skipped breakfast because I overslept and found myself deeply regretting every decision I’d made to end up here.

The festival would not start until afternoon. Already, everything was set up outside. Tables, flowers, a maypole, statues carved from ice and charmed to withstand the heat of the sun. Like something from a dream , I thought, glancing out the window as I ran loads of laundry up and down the stairs.

With only an hour to go before the festival’s official start, I lost my footing and tumbled down the stairs.

The stack of folded sheets I carried spilled from my arms. I made a noise not unlike the squeal of a startled pig and rolled down the steps.

When I reached the landing, I slammed against the stone floor.

Pain darted up my spine. My head cracked against the wall.

Though it didn’t hurt especially badly, I started to weep, more from humiliation than anything else.

The palace was nearly empty, with everyone outside or in the kitchens. I sat uselessly on the stairs—tailbone throbbing, wrists aching, skin scraped raw on my hands and knees—sniveling like a child. I climbed to my feet unsteadily.

A worried voice rang out behind me. “Miss Arina? Are you alright?”

I nearly groaned. Of course Prince Marius had witnessed my fall. Of course I couldn’t just suffer in silence for five minutes, until I felt well enough to carry on with my day.

No, he was merely the decorative garnish on an already shitty morning. “Your Highness,” I stammered, turning round to spy not only Prince Marius, but Prince Gavin as well. “I am perfectly fine.”

Gavin stared at me, startled by my splotchy face.

I stooped to reach for the sheets, but Marius beat me to it, jogging down the stairs and snatching them up with such ferocity that I thought he might be angry with me. My stomach clenched.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” I said. Gavin’s presence reminded me of my manners. Prince Marius might tolerate some familiarity, but I wouldn’t assume the same of the rest of his family, even mild-mannered Gavin. “I slipped.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Marius asked, looking me up and down.

My cheeks flooded with heat. I looked terrible. My braid was disheveled, I wore no makeup, and my dress was in dire need of laundering. I hadn’t yet changed for the banquet.

I nodded and hid my scraped palms behind my back. “I’m fine. It was just a little tumble.”

“You’re crying,” he pointed out.

“I’m just having a bad day,” I mumbled. I’d checked the phase of the moon, and strongly suspected my monthly bleeding was about to start, but I wasn’t about to admit that to anyone.

Especially not Prince Marius, of all people.

“Thank you for your concern, Your Highness, but I really should return to my duties.”

“Maybe you should go lie down,” said Prince Gavin. He gestured at his own eyebrow. “You’ve got a bit of blood here.”

“Oh,” I said, wiping my face. When I looked down, blood was smeared across my palm. “I’m sorry.”

They stared at me like I’d sprouted a third eyeball. I wanted to sob again, but forced myself not to. I just had to get through tonight and then I’d find somewhere quiet and lonely to cry in private.

“It’s alright,” said Prince Gavin gently. He was far burlier than Marius, with thick thighs and a torso that I’d glimpsed once or twice, so muscled that it reminded me of the statues I’d seen of Balligor, god of war. His biceps alone were bigger than my thighs.

He’d never been anything but polite, yet I found myself startled by the concern in his expression.

Nobody knew I was Ria’s sister, but it must’ve been apparent that we meant something to each other, because the royal family was far kinder to me than they ought to be. Kinder than I would have been. I knew better than to assume royalty would be nice for the sake of it.

“I’ll go with you to the laundress,” said Marius abruptly. There was no hint of amusement in his gaze. None of the flippant charm I’d grown accustomed to, only a strange intensity, overlaid with alarm.

I must have looked worse than I thought.

“Oh,” I said, caught off-guard. I badly wanted to be left alone, but I couldn’t very well tell him so. “That’s very kind, but there’s no need?—”

“I insist,” he said, and I couldn’t argue with that.

Gavin smirked as we departed, and I fought the urge to fold in on myself. There would be rumors. And with them, danger.

I’d be lucky to survive Queen Tarra’s scrutiny.

Good as his word, Prince Marius followed me to the laundress’s, the stack of sheets piled high in his arms.

“Isn’t this below your station?” I pleaded. We’d already received a number of odd looks and crossed more than one servant who would surely report everything she’d witnessed to the others. By late afternoon, everyone would know that Prince Marius had done my job for me.

“You fell ,” he replied. “ Hard . I saw it. Honestly, I’m surprised you’re able to walk right now.”

My tailbone all but screamed with every step, but Marius didn’t need to know that.

“I fought a bear, didn’t I? It takes more than a fall to incapacitate me.

” Absolute lies. I would’ve laid on the floor and wept if the embarrassment wouldn’t have haunted me for the rest of my life. “I’m really alright?—”

“At least let me do this, if you’re going to insist on being stubborn,” he huffed, clutching the sheets closer to his chest. “I’ve fallen down the stairs before, too, you know. It isn’t the same as surviving a battle, but it’s grueling all the same.”

“I don’t understand,” I began.

The prince cut me off again. “Falling down hurts,” he said, emphasizing each word. His severe blue gaze softened as he let out a humorless laugh. “Really, I’m beginning to wonder if you scrambled your brains.”

“ People will talk ,” I hissed, because clearly my fall had scrambled his brains, too. “I could get into trouble for this.” I rubbed at my sore wrist. “You’re engaged to my… employer, and I shouldn’t be alone with you.”

“You are a staff member, and we are not alone in a locked room. It’s perfectly fine,” Prince Marius scoffed. “I’ve no idea what things are like in Olmstead, but in Tocchia, this is hardly a death sentence.”

“I think you’ve no idea what it’s like to be a servant,” I snapped, then clapped a hand over my mouth.

Prince Marius stared at me. His eyebrows raised.

“I have some idea,” he said. One hand reached for the pendant between his collarbones, just barely visible over the frothing waterfall of lace at his neck.

“I’m certainly less privileged than my siblings.

I’ve… problems,” he finished, slightly crestfallen.

This was too personal a reveal. I didn’t want to know more. Whatever Prince Marius’s problems were, I preferred he kept them to himself. The less I knew, the safer I was.

Besides, the downward tilt to his plush lips, the set of those broad shoulders told me all I needed to know; I’d upset him. Guilt rippled like a current under my skin. I wanted to squirm away from it.

“I’ve overstepped,” I said, looking away from the perfect column of his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said, though he wouldn’t meet my eye. “You are right. I’m sure it seems I’m playing games with your life and livelihood. I promise that isn’t my intent.”

“I’m sure it isn’t, Your Highness.”

For a long moment, he was quiet, contemplative. “How long will you stay?” he asked, so abruptly that I realized the question must’ve burned at him.

“In Tocchia?” I said, confused. Why would he assume I was going to leave?

Then I realized. He must’ve overheard me speaking to Ria or Avens. If he overheard that, what else did he know? My blood ran cold.

“Yes.”

“I suppose for as long as Princess Valeria wishes me to,” I said. “I’ve never worked for anyone else.”

“I see,” hummed Prince Marius. He didn’t say anything more.

We exited the palace, and made our way around back, where the washing lines stretched from one pole to another, laundry waving in the wind. Most of it had already been collected for the day, but a few leftover sheets twisted in the breeze.

The laundresses stopped in their tracks, staring at the spectacle before them: Prince Marius carrying a heap of rumpled sheets, and a red-cheeked maid beside him, empty-handed. He waved at them as though there was nothing out of the ordinary about this. “Where should I put these?”

Three laundresses ran up to him, reaching hesitantly for the sheets. They looked from Prince Marius to me—curious, but afraid to ask.