Page 31 of The Starlit Ring (The Chronicles of Liridin #1)

Ria stared down at the wine with reluctant acceptance.

She’d have a headache tomorrow, but had apparently already decided anything was better than sitting through this banquet sober.

All morning, I’d listened to her express reluctance to attend at all and thought to myself that this was going to be the rest of her life.

Banquets and meetings and galas and ceremonies.

If she didn’t learn to enjoy or at least tolerate events, she’d be miserable.

She hadn’t appreciated me telling her that.

Fallamor popped a grape into his mouth, crunching loudly.

Prince Marius was saying something, but I couldn’t understand the words. My ears rang. My vision blurred. Courtiers and dancers blended together like subjects in an oil painting.

Something was horribly, terribly wrong .

The sensation faded, and I was left clutching the hilt of my sword, glancing around wildly.

I’d forgotten about the buttons on my boots. One for a warning. The other for good luck. I’d sewn them after my first month in the palace, an experiment. They were new designs that I’d never tested and quickly moved on from.

Prince Marius might’ve observed my ever-changing buttons, but I was so accustomed to them that I barely even remembered swapping them out.

One for a warning.

Beside me, Prince Marius was saying something to Fallamor, eyes crinkled in mirth.

Across from me, Gavin tugged at a loose thread on his jacket, his face a mask of concentration.

Toral and Halin plucked at an already picked-over plate of sweating meats and cheeses.

A dancer and her partner whirled past. Her blue gown shimmered in the candlelight.

Voices echoed around me. Laughter filtered through the air.

Ria reached for her goblet.

I glimpsed the strange film along the top, the tiniest speck of white powder. Before I knew what I was doing, I’d smacked the goblet from her hand. It clattered to the ground and rolled beneath the table.

Wine sloshed over Ria’s breast, across the cobblestones. Everyone at the table gasped.

“Talina,” Ria hissed, forgetting herself.

“That’s poisoned,” I choked out, shocked by the realization. “Did you drink any?”

“No!” snapped Ria, staring at me in disbelief. “How could I? It’s all over my dress.”

“There was powder on the rim,” I managed to say, my voice thin and reedy.

Prince Marius leapt to his feet, and crouched down, peering curiously at the goblet, which had rolled to a stop against Gavin’s shoe .

“Careful,” warned Fallamor. He procured a crisp linen napkin and passed it to the prince.

“Bring me a torch!” called Marius. One appeared in his hand almost instantly, passed from a wide-eyed, trembling servant.

By now, we’d attracted quite a bit of attention. Even some of the dancers stood off to the side, watching. Avens shot me a questioning look from the stage, and I pressed my finger to my lips. That satisfied him, and he went back to his hurdy-gurdy as though nothing had happened.

Servants gathered around us. Nobles forced their way through the crowd, gawking openly at the scene before them, accusations spilling from their lips like the wine from Ria’s goblet.

“Is that blood?”

“It’s wine, you bloody idiot!”

“The maid must’ve been jealous.”

“Which maid? The pretty one?” A courtier’s finger jabbed at me. I flinched away like it was a knife.

“Silence!” Gavin boomed, coming to stand beside Ria and me, his brawny figure shielding us from frantic nobles.

“There is a strange sheen,” Prince Marius confirmed, rising to his feet in one fluid motion.

Ria’s jaw dropped.

Queen Tarra stomped her way over to us, holding her skirts around her ankles. “What happened here?” she demanded, voice shrill.

Marius turned to her, chiseled jaw set, eyes narrowed. “Someone tried to poison my betrothed.”

The uproar was instantaneous. Servants shot each other worried glances and hurried into place.

Nobles stampeded around us, shoving and arguing amongst each other, eager for a look at the spilled wine.

Others reached for the swords at their hips or the knives in their boots.

The royal guard leapt to attention, drawing weapons and fanning out to investigate.

Ria was whisked away by Zellia. I tried to follow, but a hand on my shoulder stopped me.

“You!” spat Queen Tarra, her nails digging into my skin. “You wait right here.”

Prince Marius stood gesturing with his hands, trying to explain the situation to King Hergarv. Gavin stood beside him, occasionally chiming in.

“The goblet?—”

“Miss Arina spotted?—”

Fallamor and Toral appeared, flanking me on either side. Queen Tarra glowered at them. “Tell me what happened here,” she growled.

“Someone replaced Princess Valeria’s wine,” I explained, grateful for the representatives’ presence.

They’d seen everything. I hoped they meant to defend me, though a sharp of pang of dread in my chest warned me otherwise.

Such assumptions were dangerous in a royal court.

“I spotted a trace of powder on the rim as she went to sip from it.”

“Show me,” said Queen Tarra, her voice deathly calm.

By now, there was silence all around. Stunned faces waited for the truth. Crickets chirped.

I gestured to the red stain spreading across the stone. “Here, Your Highness.”

Frowning, Queen Tarra squatted down.

“My queen!” cried a servant. “Your skirts!”

“Hush,” said Queen Tarra. “There are more important things in life than skirts. Pass me a torch,” she commanded.

A servant appeared, handed over the torch, and scampered away like he’d been burned.

This time, I stooped to examine the evidence. I stared down at the stain, heart in my throat. This wine was too dull, too sticky not to have been spiked with something.

“Hmm,” said Queen Tarra, swiping her finger through the puddle. Horrified cries followed as she examined the tip of her finger. “Poison.” She paused, tilting her head. “A golden sheen. Billianberry root.”

King Hergarv sighed, his shoulders sagging. Gavin and Marius shared the crowd’s shock—King Hergarv seemed only resigned.

Queen Tarra stood, meeting startled faces. “What?” she demanded. “Did you think I would be so easily fooled? That I wouldn’t have taken steps to protect myself? That I would move to a foreign kingdom and assume everyone was my friend? Of course I can identify poisons!”

“Good idea. Maybe we ought to start doing that, too,” whispered someone to my left.

“Someone tried to kill her?” squealed someone to my right. A noblewoman in a pink dress, whose skirts draped like elegant flower petals.

“Good riddance,” mumbled someone else.

“Enough,” said King Hergarv, clapping his hands together “The festivities have ended.”

The band faltered to a stop.

“An investigation must be carried out,” the king continued, scratching at his beard, staring out over the gardens, where tables were still piled with platters of food. Wine flowed from the fountain. Avens wasn’t even sweating yet.

“It was just one poisoning!” argued a noble in red, crossing his arms.

“A single poisoning!”

“ Singular !” emphasized a drunk, holding up one finger, and waving it about.

Uproar. A king, no matter how powerful, was no match for a bunch of drunken, riotous noblemen and their ilk. Some returned to dancing. Others shouted at the band to start up. And still others resumed drinking, though most were smart enough to choose ale over wine.

Marius whispered something to Hergarv, who scowled.

I scanned the attendees, searching for a familiar face. Or, more importantly, a familiar mole. But I was too far away to be of any help. “I saw the hand of the person who brought the wine, Your Highness,” I told Queen Tarra, who remained beside me. “I could probably identify?—”

“My dear,” sighed Queen Tarra, adjusting her crown. “They are certainly gone by now.”

Prince Marius was at my side in an instant. “That isn’t necessarily true. If Miss Arina saw?—”

“I think Miss Arina has had a busy day, and needs to spend less time with you, and more time with her charge,” said Queen Tarra firmly. She waved him off with a gloved hand.

I blinked. Did she know that I’d seen Marius outside of my designated working hours? Did she disapprove of the way he sat beside me today, and not Ria?

It was unconventional for a princess to have female guards. In part, this was to prevent the sort of situation Queen Tarra probably imagined—a husband more interested in the guards than his wife.

But it meant that queens and princesses were sometimes put into bad situations by the very people meant to protect them. Seduction was often blamed, but I knew better. A little force, a little too much wine, and some time alone in a room… Not all guards were loyal. Not all princesses could fight.

“I’m not sure if you’ve noticed,” said Marius to Tarra, a glower on his face. “But Miss Arina’s charge is my betrothed, which means that we’re often together. Am I not to speak to her?”

King Hergarv wore an odd expression—strained, even angry. “You’d do well to watch your tongue,” he suggested. “A castle can quickly become a prison for a prince.”

Prince Marius closed his mouth slowly, indignant scowl spreading across his perfect face.

“You ought to leave,” said the Queen to me. “Go find your charge.”

I stumbled out of the gardens, toward the main door. Fallamor followed me. “Out of curiosity,” he murmured, just loudly enough that I could hear him over the chaos. “What did the hand look like?”

“There was a mole on the right ring finger,” I said, relieved that someone cared, even if it was only the man who was apparently half-snake. “Bigger than usual.”

“Excellent,” said Fallamor, nodding. “And good work. You saved the Princess, regardless of what Queen Tarra thinks.”

“Thank you,” I managed. “That might’ve been catastrophic.”

The word felt insufficient. Losing my sister would be soul-destroying. Earth-shattering. War-initiating.

“Billianberry root may not have killed her,” said Fallamor, stroking his long braid thoughtfully. “Just incapacitated her.”

We stopped just short of the doors.

“What would be the point of that?” I demanded, too stressed, tired, and hungry to deal with anymore cryptic comments.

“I’ve no idea,” said Fallamor with a shrug of his elegant shoulders. “Why poison her at all? Why not poison Marius, or Gavin, or one of the royal family?”

A terrible thought occurred to me. “Was Prince Marius poisoned? What about you? You all drank the wine, didn’t you?”

Fallamor chuckled. “I think we would know by now if we’d been poisoned. Billianberry is fast-acting.”

I leaned back against a table stacked high with cakes and pastries. My fingers itched to grab one, to scarf it down in front of Fallamor, and dare him to say something. “Does it kill, or merely incapacitate?”

“It’s hard to say.” Fallamor’s sea foam green eyes darkened. “Billianberry root is difficult to acquire. It only grows in West Alberbrook. I can’t say I’m terribly familiar with it, just that I know it isn’t always deadly.”

Alberbrook . I thought of Duke Callum, and his handsome face, and felt a pang of longing for home and familiar company.

“Why would someone want to incapacitate her?” I mused .

Fallamor shook his head. “I’ve no idea. To sow discord?”

I pursed my lips. “That can’t be right.”

“No,” Fallamor agreed. “I’m sure they wanted her dead.

” His gaze was gentle, pitying. For the first time, I feared that he’d caught onto me.

But his expression shifted to something more serious.

“I’ll pass your information along,” he said, drifting past me with the elegance of a flower petal in a breeze. “Thank you. Take care.”

And he disappeared back into the crowd like a fish into the sea.