Page 45 of The Starlit Ring (The Chronicles of Liridin #1)

T he next morning, I was relieved to spot Marius at breakfast. He was pale-faced and exhausted, foot tapping in annoyance.

But he was present, whole, not a distant dot upon the white spiraling bridge, as I’d feared.

I had no claim to him, but two weeks’ separation felt unbearably long after so many days spent together.

I forced my expression to remain neutral. Standing behind Ria as I usually did, I surveyed the room for any sign of danger and did not wave to him like I really wanted to.

Both Gavin and King Amonrew were suspiciously absent, along with a number of guards. Princess Odalla sat beside Queen Tarra. Neither of them addressed each other.

Not for the first time, I wondered when King Amonrew had remarried. Marius was only a year older than Ria, but he treated the Queen as a peer rather than an actual parent.

Marius and Ria exchanged only cursory greetings and ignored each other completely in favor of their breakfasts of bacon, toasted bread, preserves, and ale.

Eventually, Queen Tarra made her way to the front of the table. A deep blue dress with golden accents and a high neckline clung tightly to her body. Her hair was coiled high upon her head, holding her crown in place.

Within seconds, the atmosphere in the room changed from casual to tense. Everyone had noticed the King’s absence, and Marius’s presence. “People of Tocchia, and esteemed guests,” began Queen Tarra, arms spread wide in greeting.

All eyes were upon her. Forks dropped. Silence fell over the room.

“As you may know, today is the day King Amonrew and a few chosen companions ascend the Bridge of Glass to Liridin. This is the first in a series of visits meant to determine the identity of the assassin or assassins still on the loose. Court will continue as usual until their return. If there is any news, you will be informed.”

“Are you in charge, then?” called a man dressed from head to toe in a beaded grey suit.

“Yes,” said Queen Tarra through gritted teeth. “Any other questions?”

“Why’s he here?” asked someone else, pointing to Marius.

Any mortification he must have felt did not show on his face. “I’m here to assist with any needs that might arise. Including those of investigations,” he said, voice lowering to a growl. “You certainly wouldn’t want to impede by asking silly questions, would you?”

“No, I wouldn’t,” the noble agreed, returning hastily to his breakfast.

Apprehension returned to the palace. Ria, frustrated by everyone’s dour mood, retired to her chambers immediately after dinner, citing a headache.

With free time on my hands for the first time in days, I decided to spend an evening curled up in my favorite armchair at the library, hopefully with a good book in hand.

I hadn’t even made it downstairs before I was intercepted by Prince Marius, slinking from the shadows like a wolf in moonlit woods .

“How do you do that?” I demanded, crossing my arms. “It isn’t even dark yet.” I’d have to remember to retrieve my tracking pebble from its place on my dresser; I was quite sick of him sneaking up on me.

“It’s a talent,” said Marius, flitting to my side as though he belonged there. As naturally as he might step into place beside Ria. “May I accompany you?”

“I’m only going to the library,” I said, starting forward again.

“I’ve seen you few other places,” he said, biting his lower lip as though this bothered him.

“There are only so many places I can go,” I reminded him. “Speaking of which, I’m very glad to see you.”

“I’ll admit, I’m rather bitter that I was forced to remain behind,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. His shoulder brushed against mine, quick and playful. “All the same, I’d hate to leave for long. It is good to see you.”

As we walked, his good cheer faded. A frown appeared, then deepened. At his sides, his hands twitched. We’d nearly reached the library when he said, “You’ve nowhere to practice your magic, do you?”

I startled, stopped. “I-Well, no. No, not really.”

He tapped his foot. “That seems unfair.”

“I-I don’t know that I agree,” I said. “I’m just a servant. Besides, you’re the one who mentioned the forge.”

Something about that seemed to bother him, but he pursed his lips and said nothing else.

In the library, we went our separate ways.

I broke from my routine, and read about the history of Tocchia, which seemed more important than the sequel to the romance novel I’d finished last night, which detailed the relationship between a maiden and the fearsome dragon she was sacrificed to (and seduced by).

Though I badly wanted to know how the rest of the story went, I wouldn’t be caught dead reading something like that in front of Marius. I was sure he’d poke fun at me .

The history books revealed little in the way of answers.

I searched for any mentions of Marius’s cursed ring and found none.

Instead, I found stories of great battles.

Many featured tales of the Red Man, a fearsome warrior who appeared at the apex of combat, when things felt the most hopeless.

He was painted crimson (presumably with blood) and fought naked, with only shield, sword, and boots to protect him.

Singlehandedly, he felled armies. When the Red Man appeared, foes knew to flee—the fight was already lost.

But the Red Man hadn’t been seen in nearly three hundred years, and Tocchia lost her reputation as a formidable adversary.

I skimmed the great prophecies of Marius’s ancestors: predictions of death and creation, murders and marriages, war and peace. All were at least a hundred years old, and so far as I could tell, not applicable to the current circumstances.

Was this all that would remain of Marius after his death? Just a long list of prophecies, a mention of his reign, and a single line about his demise?

How unbearably depressing. I would hate to end up as nothing more than a moss-covered tombstone and a dry paragraph in a history book.

Midnight approached, and I was thoroughly depressed. My fingers ached from turning pages. A litany of dead royals (and their names and birthdates) flashed through my mind, their often gruesome fates described with the passion of a merchant’s inventory list.

I could not stop envisioning wars that ended with villages burned to the ground, fields of fallen soldiers whose corpses rotted in the sun, royals dead in their thrones, anointed in blood.

According to one the books I’d flipped through, the old gods had died, and mysteriously reappeared centuries later, vengeful and angry, demanding their temples be restored.

I’d not seen a single temple in Tocchia thus far, but I learned that they dotted the lands, that the locals believed they demanded a sacrifice of blood.

Most villages slit the throat of a goat or pig beneath the full moon. Some preferred human sacrifices.

The kingdom I imagined now was fertile with blood and bone, so different from the insulated palace I’d experienced. Even nearby Dranning was a mystery to me, glimpsed only from southern-facing balconies and windows.

“What’s so important about the ring?” I demanded when Marius and I were alone in the Star Room. I was too anxious, too exhausted to try and contain my curiosity any longer.

An expression of measured surprise. His tongue darted out to wet his lips.

I could not help but imagine his tongue in other places, and squeezed my thighs together, so that I might quash such thoughts into oblivion.

“Well,” he said, adjusting one of the jeweled rings on his hand. “It’s cursed, for one thing.”

“But why are you so determined to break it? Can’t you just lock it away, and try not to think about it?”

Marius sat on the altar and put his head in his hands. “It’s cursed. I can hardly ignore it.” He rubbed at his eyes and fixed his exhausted gaze upon me. “And it must be passed on.”

When he looked at me, it was with fiery determination, a hint of possessiveness that sent heat flaring in my belly. His face expressed what words could not; longing, desire.

In that moment, I wanted to offer myself up. A willing tribute. A sacrifice. A vow and a lie all at once.

“What do you mean?” I asked, taking a step forward, half-ready to comfort him even though I knew better. If I touched him, we would not finish this conversation. The tension between us thrummed beneath my skin, reflected in his tortured gaze.

If I touched him, it would all be over. Everything I’d built and balanced so delicately would come crashing down. I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame, and I’d burn all too gladly in exchange for one glorious moment together .

“It must go to my betrothed,” he said at last, tearing his gaze away from me like it physically pained him. Fingertips dragged down his face, leaving pink streaks behind. “And I would not wish it upon anyone.”

A heartbeat passed. His words stung. A reminder to both of us that he was marrying Ria, not me. I should care about the ring not for his sake, but for my sister’s.

“I see now,” I said, drawing my cloak tight around my shoulders.

“There must be a way to avoid it,” Marius said, voice tight. “I just… I don’t know how.”

“We’ll find a way,” I said, somber and frozen through with trepidation. Ria would not suffer the ring. I’d make certain of it.

“You don’t understand,” he murmured. “This is… Centuries of pain, all contained in one single piece of jewelry.” He shook his head. “The old gods were merciless.”

“The old gods?” What did they have to do with this? I thought of the stories I’d read. The demands they made. The atrocities committed in their names.

Rubbing his jaw with the back of his hand, Marius said, “I lied to you, when I said I didn’t whose bone was used to make the ring.”

I frowned. “You did?”

“I was not yet certain if I could trust you.” His shrug was apologetic, almost guilty.

Biting down irritation, I said, “Fine. Then whose bone is it?”

“A priestess named Guin Pellin. She was, according to the legends, the first to open the gates of the catacombs, and release the gods after their imprisonment by Ratsun Callick centuries earlier. I assume you’re familiar with the story?”

I gawked at him. I knew little of the northern gods, and only vaguely recalled the tale of Ratsun Callick.

Once considered the king of the gods, he wreaked havoc wherever he went.

Charming, fierce, and wily, he tricked and smited everyone who crossed his path.

When his siblings banded together to stop him, he imprisoned them in a catacomb, where they were forced to survive on bones and earth.

Not until tonight had I realized they were released. The story, I’d always thought, was meant to explain the disappearance of the gods. A reflection of collective feelings of abandonment as times and fortunes changed.

I’d never considered that there might be any truth to it.

“Yes,” I managed. “I’ve heard it before.”

“Good.” Prince Marius nodded to himself, satisfied with my answer.

“Of course, no one has seen or heard from any god in centuries, so the legend is impossible to confirm. But according to the stories, they devoured Guin Pellin body and soul, right in front of the gates, and created the ring to bind the kingdoms together. This is all very much a secret,” he added, plucking a loose thread from his sleeve.

“If you speak a word to anyone, I will not be able to defend you.” His shoulders sagged. “Though it would kill me.”

“Then why tell me?” I fumed, hands on my hips, blood rushing in my ears.

“Because you deserve to know,” said Prince Marius. “Because I don’t want to keep secrets anymore.” His left leg bounced up and down with ferocity.

“Why not?”

“Don’t make me say it, Arina.”

I let out a groan of frustration. “Say what? I don’t understand.”

“The ring is my inheritance. I must pass it on to a member of the royal family in Olmstead, or Tocchia will fall. And in one hundred years, my descendants will pass the ring to the royal family in Nemonia. It is the will of the gods.” He looked up at me with wet eyes.

“That is why I had to have Princess Valeria. It is hardly some misplaced passion or possessiveness. It is a matter of keeping my kingdom intact. ”

My knees went weak. “What are you trying to say?”

“I think you know,” said Prince Marius, his voice pained.

“I really don’t,” I managed, voice breaking.

This was all a ruse. It had to be a ruse.

And if any of this was true, why did Father want to break off the engagement?

“This can’t continue,” said Marius. “The ring provides entirely too much leverage. Do you know what happens when it isn’t passed on?

” He didn’t wait for me to respond. “Food rots. Weather turns foul. The land withers. War and rebellion are inevitable.” He tapped his fingers against his thigh.

“That is what King Amonrew would have done to us if we hadn’t fought back. ”

A frozen mist filled my chest, shot into my veins until I felt as if I’d turned to ice.

Father didn’t need to go to war with Tocchia. He only needed to prevent the ring being passed on. If Tocchia fell, trade routes would open. Father could claim the land easily, including its fertile fields, generous mineral deposits, and sea routes.

“But why?” It wasn’t impossible for me to comprehend Father’s cruelty—I’d seen it enough—but I didn’t understand the reasoning behind it. Why ruin a centuries-long alliance?

Marius tipped his head back and let out a hollow laugh. “Power. Control. If Tocchia is weak, she is easy to take.”

“Why haven’t I ever heard of this?” I demanded, watching his face for any sign of a lie.

A slow sneer spread across his face. Something dark and feral that threatened to reach out and ruin . “Because this is information that can only be passed between royals. It’s part of the curse.”

I scrutinized his expression. He was too smug, too calm. Something was wrong. I was missing something. “Then why are you telling me?”

“Ah,” said Marius, grinning a grin that reminded me of a shark’s. “That’s not the question. The question is; how am I telling you?”

I pondered over the words. How ? How was he telling me? Here in the Star Room beneath a twinkling sky, using his full mouth to form the words. But that wasn’t the answer he wanted, was it?

My stomach plummeted as I realized.

“Ah,” said Marius, noting the change in my expression. An eyebrow raised. “Mull on that, Princess Talina.” He climbed elegantly to his feet, strode past me, and out the door.