Page 5 of The Starlit Ring (The Chronicles of Liridin #1)

I took breakfast in my room and attended my lessons in a haze.

The nobles were drunk by luncheon. Their laughter and guffawing became impossible to ignore.

Servants darted about, sweaty-faced and anxious, hanging last minute decorations and hauling heaping platters to the banquet hall.

The smells of baking bread, roasting meat and vegetables permeated the castle.

I found myself far hungrier than usual, gobbling lunch with an enthusiasm earned me an elbow in the ribs from Valeria, and a horrified stare from Timin.

I forced myself to slow down, partly to keep the eyes of nosy noblemen off me. It would reflect poorly on the king if his daughter ate like she was starved.

Rarely did I miss a meal. My cheeks were plump, and there was a softness to my hips and bosom, but that wouldn’t stop rumors from flying like rats from a dungeon.

My time in the forge was brief. Timin needed to stay with Valeria, so a guard accompanied me instead.

I didn’t recognize him, but he was pleasant enough, and seemed interested in watching the smiths work even as he fanned his face in the oppressive heat.

His name was Bront, and he smirked whenever Cranz grumbled or swore, which was often.

Ronnie frantically packed orders of ceremonial armor for tonight’s banquet.

I helped him, sorting through pieces made for members of Olmstead’s guard.

Though I wanted to admire the precision, the way our crest was so skillfully engraved, I couldn’t.

There was simply no time. The rhythm of the hammer and anvil kept me company, kept me grounded even as the world outside grew louder and louder in anticipation of the banquet.

Carriages rolled through the streets, and horses whinnied. The castle grounds steadily filled with people. Most wore bright colors, radiant in the sunlight. Some sang or danced or juggled, earning a little extra coin for their troubles.

Even now, I heard distant singing. A part of me longed to join the throng, to dance freely like a regular girl, and not a princess, doomed to a night of boring, partnered dances.

“I was here all night packing,” Ronnie said, carefully boxing a sword, silver and shining, enchanted to ensure that its user always struck true.

The irony was not lost on me; the sword was ceremonial.

The effort that had gone into its preparation was purely symbolic.

And yet, it was expertly sharpened and polished.

Gilded vines crawled up its pommel and wrapped around a large ruby like a picture frame.

Cranz had sweated and agonized over it, working late into the evening until at last it was perfect. “Just packing.”

“Wait!” I said, peering eagerly into the box. “Can I see it?”

Cranz snapped to attention, eyes narrowing. “Do not smear your fingerprints all over it.”

“I just wanted to admire it,” I said. “Someone needs to. The king knows almost nothing of smithing, after all.”

Shaking his head, Cranz sighed, “Fine. You’re right. Admire it. And don’t imply that King Amonrew doesn’t appreciate quality. I won’t have rumors like that coming from my forge. ”

Bront examined the blade, too, wide-eyed and more than a little curious.

“Strikes true,” said Ronnie proudly, as if he’d been its maker.

“Any soldier would kill for an enchantment like this,” Bront said. “You mentioned that it was only ceremonial?”

“It is,” said Ronnie, nodding.

“Are these difficult to make? I’d assume so. Hardly any exist.” He barked a laugh. “Otherwise, the army would be stocked up!”

“Exhausting,” groaned Cranz, wiping sweat from his brow. “The enchantments alone are dangerous to cast.”

The guard turned to me, astonished. “And you help create these?”

“Well, I?—”

“She has interesting ideas,” said Cranz, turning his glare on the soldier. His voice was low, an undercurrent of frustration running through it. “I’m eager to see how her career unfolds.”

“I didn’t mean any offense,” said Bront quickly, scowling at Cranz. “I only meant that I’m surprised?—”

“ Don’t underestimate her,” Cranz said, turning back to the fire, so that his broad shoulders were on full display. “I didn’t spend the last two years training her for you to bumble in here and act shocked that she can swing a hammer.”

I was more surprised by his outburst than Bront.

In his years spent training me, Cranz never had a single nice thing to say.

He wasn’t cruel, exactly, but he was gruff, grumpy, and hated to be interrupted.

Though he muttered under his breath often, he was far from talkative. To hear him defend me now was baffling.

My cheeks reddened. For once, I didn’t know what to say. Ronnie caught my eye and laughed, like he knew something I didn’t.

Bront looked between us, and took a step back, mouth shut.

After a quick wipe with a cloth, the sword disappeared back into its box.

I left for the banquet free of sweat and soot.

My hair was curled and tied back with soft pink ribbons.

A verdant green with gold stitching clung tightly to my torso, but the long, flowing sleeves kept it relatively modest. The skirts were pleated, stitched to look like leaves.

I was enamored of it, even as both Valeria and the tailor tried to talk me into something more practical.

The slippers were pointed and made from the same fabric as my dress. Their white, glittering tips that reminded me of mountain peaks. Peridot earrings dangled from my earlobes.

The string of pearls around my neck was enchanted to give the wearer better balance and fortitude, something I suspected I needed for a night of dancing. The trade-off was that I’d have to remember to eat and drink more than usual—additional fortitude would take its toll on my body.

Hidden in my pocket was a crystal obelisk, which I’d been working to enchant.

It was supposed to light up the moment I entered a dark room, but so far worked intermittently, and only if I shouted at it.

If I had a moment to sneak away tonight, I might try to adjust the enchantment.

A secret project would give me a good excuse to disappear, if only for a few minutes.

“Could you possibly have embraced the theme more?” Valeria grumbled when she saw me.

Her lavender dress cinched at the waist. Long silk skirts reached nearly to the floor, grazing the tops of her silver slippers.

With her hair pulled into an updo, her eyelids painted a deep purple that brightened to silver at the edges, she was absolutely regal.

Severe, elegant, pale. Like a swan gliding across a glass lake, ready to chase away anyone who dared do more than admire her.

A crown atop her head would only complete the look.

“I like green,” I said, spinning around so that my skirts whirled. I nearly crashed into Timin, who had just emerged from Valeria’s rooms. “Whoops, sorry. ”

“It’s quite alright, Princess Talina,” said Timin, teetering on her heels, which were so high that even her voluminous, pink skirts couldn’t hide them.

“Though you ought to mind your manners. This banquet reflects on not only your father, but Princess Valeria. Besides,” she lowered her voice, as if she were about to share a juicy piece of gossip over tea.

“Rumor has it that there are suitors here. Not just for Princess Valeria,” she added, grinning at me.

I squinted at her. Was she drunk already? Or actually excited?

Music and laughter echoed down the halls.

Guests poured in from outside, welcomed by ushers dressed in suits of grey and gold.

A sorceress passed by—tall and thin, with loose, flowing white hair.

A silvery blue dress brought out the starlight hue of her eyes.

Among the other guests, she was dazzling, ethereal.

Beside her, the rest of us were no more than dying flowers, fluttering toward the banquet hall like a cloud of moths to a freshly lit candle.

I hadn’t expected to see her in the castle. All the court wizards and other magical practitioners were supposed to be in the towers along our wall, ensuring good weather and magical defenses.

Not making the rest of us look like mere children playing dress up, I thought, watching her drift through the crowd gracefully as a rose petal among a pool of lily pads.

“King Amonrew wants to meet with you two before the banquet,” Timin all but sang, leading us away from the throng and up the stairs. With some unease, I realized that I didn’t recognize either of the soldiers opening the doors for us.

It seemed our guard had expanded of late, with new faces cropping up every day.

Why? Was Father preparing for war? There hadn’t been any battles or illnesses that would call for replacements.

No crisis that would have killed or disabled anyone.

Our enemies made no threats of late, though of course there were plenty of foreign nobles in our home right now.

Perhaps these were temporary safety measures taken for the banquet. Each year, it drew larger crowds .

But this year should’ve been different. After Father ended our alliance with Tocchia, I expected that some neighboring kingdoms might protest the banquet. And yet, every invitation was accepted, except for the ones sent to Blair, Tocchia’s closest allies.

No one from Tocchia would attend, which was hardly unusual.

The mountain pass was treacherous this time of year, and the kingdom often sent gifts in their absence.

Crops, gold, crystal vases threaded with green and blue veins (which I begged and pleaded for as a child, thinking they’d look magnificent stuffed full of pink peonies), finely embroidered fabrics, jewelry.

It would be a lie to claim that I did not miss their annual offerings. Even if I rarely got to keep anything, it was still a joy to see the horses and carts winding their way up the mountain. With Ria and my other siblings at my side, we’d sort through the offerings.