Page 3 of The Starlit Ring (The Chronicles of Liridin #1)

D inner passed uneventfully. The nobles danced and laughed, gorged themselves on food and drink until they vomited, or passed out along the benches.

People paused to leer at Ria, who kept her gaze steady and her shoulders square.

Sometimes she smiled, and sometimes she looked like she’d rather stab herself in the eye with a fork than pretend to be nice any longer.

So I smiled and waved for her. People smiled and waved back.

I’d worked hard to cultivate my reputation as cheerful and pleasant, grateful, never causing problems. If everyone would scrutinize my motives and legitimacy, then I must do everything in my power to prove them wrong.

I would not stir the pot, I would not act foolishly, and I would give them no reason to doubt me.

No less than six gentlemen, including a duke, a baron, and a prince of Mariwer asked Ria to dance. She obliged reluctantly, dragging her feet round the ballroom like they were made of anvils.

It would be worse tomorrow, when all the guests had arrived, stuffing the castle full as a creampuff. Tonight was only a taste of the drama and curiosity. Tomorrow, we would be on full display, and Ria would not get away with her antics.

I sat at the table and drank my wine, watching Ria move across the dance floor with the enthusiasm of a rag doll.

Sometimes, I wondered if she was upset that Father had called off her marriage to Prince Marius of Tocchia.

There was a certain comfort in having known of her betrothed for her entire life, even if she’d only met him twice.

The rumors Marius inspired were unremarkable at worst. Unlike most princes, he didn’t embarrass himself with drink, or indulge in weeks-long hunting parties, or take mistresses, or anything scandalous. He was, if anything, terribly dull.

I had no intention of joining the dancefloor, and every intention of drinking and eavesdropping.

My favorite bard would tragically not be joining our court this spring, so my sources of gossip were rather limited, and I was hungry for details.

Luckily, nobles like to talk like no one is listening.

Over the course of the evening, I learned that Madam Lira of Erimont was pregnant by a man other than her husband, that the Duke of Chara had gambled away nearly half the family fortune and had to be tied to a chair in the evenings to stop him from sneaking out and losing the rest of it, that little Halla and Ernie of Castle Ballantine were learning archery and accidentally shot a guard through the foot, that the trade routes to the east were blocked by the ongoing war in Galanta (I’d already overheard my father grumbling about that).

“Shame about the treaty,” said someone I didn’t recognize to a viscount from last night’s brawl.

Viscount Alger of Denton grinned. “A shame indeed, to have an eligible princess again.” He had a pale face, and perfectly styled blond hair, which looked as if it would not hold up to a night of exertion.

I wondered if that was why he’d avoided the dance floor, even as he ogled my sister like a hound might a steak.

“Don’t leap to conclusions,” said the stranger. He had long legs and a dark blue coat. “Tocchia may yet retaliate. ”

Viscount Alger spun in a circle, gesturing around the room. “Retaliate, hmm? I don’t see them here.”

“They don’t have to be here, idiot,” said the stranger.

“Force is the only way,” said Alger. “They’ve tried everything else. King Amonrew refuses to honor the agreement. They knew what would happen if they broke the treaty.”

“I’ve heard they didn’t,” said the stranger, shrugging.

I’d heard this argument more than once. Blythewell was a border town.

Neighboring Nemonia planned to attack, to expand their borders and cripple trade routes through the mountains.

Tocchia claimed to have received early intelligence, said that they only sent soldiers because ours would not reach Blythewell in time to stop the impending invasion.

But if this was true, then why had they slaughtered so many villagers?

“Sixty people, dead,” said Alger, ticking off five fingers.

Well. It might’ve been optimistic to assume he could count to sixty, but it was even more optimistic for him to assume he had enough fingers for it.

Alger’s gaze caught mine. I looked down immediately, blushing, but he strode up to me as if I’d winked at him. “You are the bastard princess. Talina, isn’t it?”

I nodded, pasting a smile on my face, careful to hide my distaste.

“Care for a dance? I notice you seem a little… neglected.”

Coming from anyone else, it might’ve been a polite offer, but he smelled of mutton and wine.

Bruises climbed along his jaw like flowering ivy.

Still, I was in no position to refuse, so I extended my hand and allowed him to lead me to the dance floor.

Ria caught my gaze and rolled her eyes all the way back into her head.

At her side was a tall man who I thought might be the Duke of Prine.

Before I could ascertain this, Alger spun me in a tight circle.

“You’re quite good at this,” he said, like he’d expected me to tumble over my own feet .

“I’m a princess, as you said. I’ve had plenty of dancing lessons.”

“How strange to be a king’s bastard. Tell me, does that make you royalty?”

“I’m not certain I’d ask questions like this in King Amonrew’s court,” I said, trying not to scowl. “I am a princess of Olmstead, or don’t you remember?”

“Odd that he wants us to believe you’re a real princess when we all know the truth,” Alger mused. The music changed. Lutes and drums switched to a jaunty tune that would summon the drunks to the dance floor. “And yet, you’re treated as something more. Tell me, Talina. Are you something more?”

His face was too close to mine. As I’d suspected, his hair had flopped loose over his forehead. Combined with the faint sheen of sweat across his face, he looked half-crazed.

“ Yes ,” I said, with too much emphasis.

A grin spread across his face. Before he could say more, a voice sounded behind us. “Mind if I cut in?”

“Yes,” snapped Alger, whirling us away from the stranger he’d spoken to only minutes before.

This was the worst part of dancing. Being passed around like an object, in close proximity to men who smelled funny and grabbed a little too hard, trod on my shoes, and acted like I wanted to be in their presence. Polite society left me trapped and nearly helpless.

I halfway hoped the stranger might cut in and rescue me from Alger, but that would leave him open to steal Ria away from her current dance partner. Whatever his intentions were, I doubted they were very good.

“Perhaps we should ask the lady,” said the stranger glibly. “Would you like to dance, Princess Talina?”

Alger’s grasp tightened around my middle. Panicked, I said, “Yes, please.”

The stranger grinned. “If I may, Alger. ”

Alger let go of me so suddenly that I nearly lost my balance. “Fine,” he snapped. “All yours. She’s clumsy, anyway.”

I swallowed a gasp, and the stranger took Alger’s place, one hand grasping mine, another loose around my waist. “If I may ask your name, Your Grace?”

“Callum, Your Highness,” said the stranger easily. “Of East Alberbrook.”

“Ah!” I cried. I’d heard the name before, even if I didn’t recognize the face. “The duke!”

“Yes,” he said. “You’ll have to forgive Alger. He’s my second cousin—several times removed—and I’m glad of the distance, I can tell you that much.”

I almost laughed, but feared that might be offensive, so I settled for a polite smile. “Oh my. He is… quite something, Your Grace.”

“With all due respect, Your Highness, I believe the word you’re looking for is ‘rude,’” said Duke Callum. Up close, I realized he was much younger than I’d initially thought, perhaps only in his thirties.

I nearly laughed, but fell short when the back of my neck prickled uncomfortably. I glanced over Duke Callum’s shoulder to see Alger drinking from a goblet, staring down my sister and her newest partner. The dance floor was filling up, leaving only about a foot of space between couples.

At least it will be easy to get lost in the crowd , I thought.

“Perhaps,” I said, flashing my brightest smile.

He seemed taken aback, but his expression warmed into something genuine. Perhaps I’d misjudged him.

But I’d been warned, over and over again, that men would seek to take advantage me.

There was always the possibility that someone might exploit my status.

Any number of unpleasantries could unfold—kidnapping, blackmail, rape, coercion.

If a new acquaintance seemed even slightly suspicious, I was to limit my interactions .

“No, I’m quite certain of it, Your Highness,” said Callum. “I know the man well. He’s always been a little too… aggressive, shall we say?”

The song changed, but we didn’t switch partners. Alger was waiting to steal me back, and I’d take any reprieve I could get.

“And how is Alberbrook this time of year?” I asked, eager to chance the subject.

“Oh, quite lovely. Our tulip gardens have just bloomed. It’s really quite fantastic, I’d highly recommend a visit if you can manage it.

” Callum ginned at me, then averted his gaze, as if suddenly fearing he’d overstepped.

A single brown curl fell across his forehead.

Hazel eyes held a depth I hadn’t expected.

A dimpled chin finished off a strong jawline.

Taken aback, I said, “Oh, that must be such a sight!” I hadn’t expected him to be so pleasant, or so casual in his recommendation.

“Oh, it is. We’ve fine vineyards and the bluest lakes you’ve ever seen. Tell me, Your Highness, have you ever been?”

“Not since I was a child,” I said wistfully.

I remembered Alberbrook like something from a storybook, with towers and spires and red clay rooftops, brightly colored houses scattered along lazy rivers.

When I imagined it now, after years spent in snowy Olmstead, it felt like a daydream rather than a memory.