Page 43 of The Starlit Ring (The Chronicles of Liridin #1)

I threaded my fingers together. I wanted to tell him everything. That I wasn’t who he thought I was. If we were to carry on, he should probably know.

But confessions were dangerous, and I hid my desires like pearls in an oyster’s flesh. “What if I told you I had a secret?”

“Hypothetically speaking, I wouldn’t be surprised.” He looked me up and down, and shook his head, shoulders shaking in silent laughter. “I’d be far more surprised if you told me the secret without any prodding.”

I glowered at him. “I can’t do that.”

“So there is a secret!” he said, lacing his fingers together beneath his chin, and beaming at me.

My glower turned into an outright glare. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to,” he gloated.

Fine, he’d outsmarted me. But I’d never admit it. A question burned within my mind, and I feared I’d choke on its smoke if I didn’t ask.

“I need to ask another question.”

At my somber tone, he grew serious. “I’ll do my best to answer.”

I didn’t ask the question I meant to. Instead, I blurted, “Why would someone try to kill the Princess? You must know.”

He ran his fingers through his hair, loose today, and sighed. “I do know. And I cannot disclose it.”

Fury cascaded over me. Of course he knew. Of course he couldn’t tell me. How was I supposed to keep Ria safe when these damned royals kept every morsel of intelligence to themselves? Did they take me for a joke? Did they think I was only a pet?

But of course they did. I’d defended Ria once, and it was from a goblet of wine. I never trained with the guards—per Tocchian tradition, I wasn’t allowed. Of course they thought I was weak, useless, primarily for show.

“Queen Tarra said you were ill. Is that true?” It felt almost cruel to ask, especially with such bite in my words, but I had to know. If he would dare proposition me, then he owed me this.

The question startled him. His eyes rounded, lips parted. His throat worked as he swallowed. “Yes.”

“I suppose you can’t tell me?”

Head in his hands, Marius inhaled deeply. When he looked up, he said, “I will. I shouldn’t. But I don’t wish to lie.”

The depths of sorrow in his gaze caught me off guard. There was no more teasing, no more silent laughter. Only an aching grief.

I longed to comfort him. But I was afraid to touch him without permission, let alone draw nearer. “You don’t have to?—”

“No,” he said, and there was that incredulous laughter again, spilling from him like marbles from an overturned pouch. “If I’ve the nerve to invite you to become my mistress, then I owe you an explanation.”

I wanted to protest that I, too, had my secrets, but he shook his head as I opened my mouth, and continued.

“It’s true. I was not projected to survive infancy, although I had a very determined nursemaid. My father has given her full credit for my continued survival. You may have met her. Her name is Laney. She watches my sister’s children now.”

I pictured the aging maid beside the fire and nodded. “I have.”

“Good. Father says she’s lucky to have kept her head, because she’s the reason I’m spoilt.

” A quirk of the lips, and his tone sobered again.

“I was slow to grow, but a quick study. While Gavin was outside learning to ride and fight, I stayed indoors with my tutors. Depending on the year, I didn’t even do much studying.

I was constantly ill. Weak constitution, underdeveloped lungs, that sort of thing.

There were times when I could not leave my bed for weeks. ”

I studied him, taking in his sharp features, his lithe body. He was built like a swordsman as opposed to Gavin’s boatwright, but he wasn’t fragile looking. At six feet tall, he wasn’t short, either. Other than his pale complexion, I’d never guess that he might have been ill.

“And then, my father’s sorcerer found a solution,” continued Marius.

“And, well, I can’t go into much detail, but I was no longer constantly ill.

I learned to ride a horse, and to handle a blade, and everything else that my father feared I’d never be able to do.

” He ran a hand through his hair again, rings catching on the pale strands.

“But there is always the possibility of relapse. ”

“Have you had any? Relapses, I mean.”

Marius shook his head. “Not in a long while. Not since I was an adolescent.”

“And this illness… Do they know what it is?”

“Of course they do,” said Marius, sitting up a little straighter. “It is my birthright.”

I waited for him to explain. When he didn’t, I said, “Is it… hereditary?”

“Yes,” he said, somber again. “It afflicts all Seers within my family. I am very lucky, in fact, that I am able to function at all. Many simply laid on the altar and recorded visions until their untimely deaths.”

What a horrible fate. I shuddered. “How awful.”

“Things are different now. No one expects me to do that,” he said. He stood, walked over to me, and extended a hand. “I’m exhausted, and I suspect you are, too. Let’s return to the library.”

I reached for his hand, marveling at the warmth of it, the firmness of his grip.

I did not let go, and neither did he.