Page 52 of The Starlit Ring (The Chronicles of Liridin #1)

I expected him to let go of my hand when we reached the library, but he his grip remained firm, so we slinked along together, keeping behind the tall shelves until we reached the entrance.

There, Marius finally dropped my hand and donned his hood. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t subject you to the humiliation, let alone the frankly terrible courtly gossip.”

I gave him a light shove, right between the shoulder blades. “Walk ahead,” I said. “I’ll follow at a distance.”

“Good idea,” he said, and took off like an arrow shot from a bow.

At first, I scrambled to keep up, but he slowed as soon as we were away from the more populated parts of the palace, where servants finished their nighttime tasks, and courtiers wandered. I didn’t dare speak or stray too close to him.

For a long time, I was unsure of our destination. I probably should have asked earlier, but I’d been swept up in his enthusiasm. To call out now would risk ruining my cover. We were alone in the halls, but anyone could be lurking around the corner .

Along with any pesky, scrying sorceresses. How could anyone keep a secret in this place?

I knew next to nothing of scrying, or of court magicians and their ways.

In Olmstead, we had only a few, and their jobs were to neutralize the weather, to ensure a bountiful harvest, and to protect the castle in an emergency.

I’d overhead enough to be under the impression that even sorcerers were rarely Seers.

No one had ever told me that spying through a scrying glass was an option. Not outside of fairytales, anyway.

Had people watched me my entire life, unbeknownst to me? How many perverted old sorcerers had watched me undress? More importantly, had anyone seen me jump into the supply wagon?

Had King Amonrew known the entire time?

A chill sucked the heat from my bones. Was he only biding his time?

No. No, that was impossible. He was too brash, too angry to allow something like this to transpire. Queen Tarra must have located the best scryers on the continent, and employed them here, in Tocchia. Not every kingdom had access to these resources, I was sure of it.

Momentarily satisfied, I trailed Marius up a flight of stairs, and down a long hallway. Here, he paused, gesturing for me to join him, so I did, walking quickly until I was at his side. “Stay close,” he said. “These are my quarters.”

Oh . This was a privilege I hadn’t expected. One that I’d silently resigned to Ria. Marius and I would have the Star Room, but I’d never lie in his bed. It was too risky, too disrespectful.

A thrill darted through my heart.

Guards were posted at the end of the hallway.

If they saw me, they didn’t react. Their arms remained crossed, their weapons at their sides, gazes unwavering.

In the light of the sconces, they might as well have been statues.

“They won’t say anything,” Marius assured me, voice low. “They practice discretion. ”

Back at Castle Ackervail, the guards would’ve immediately reported any personal guests to my father. But things were different for princes, I supposed, fighting down bitter resentment.

I gave a hesitant nod and followed Marius through a heavy door bearing a carving of a heron. Candles flickered to life when we stepped inside.

“Here,” he said, leading me past the entryway, where paintings hung alongside elaborately crafted swords, still and dusty as a museum display.

We passed the washing room and the bedroom (where we did not stop to make love again as I’d very much hoped we might) and made our way into a grand study.

Half workshop and half library, it was as exquisite as something conceived in a dream.

The bookshelves were carefully carved and painted a sage green.

Potted plants filled the empty spaces, their vines trailing, leaves vibrant and shiny.

A desk sat in the corner, equipped with a set of drawers, and wide enough to comfortably seat two.

Ink pots crowded around a jewel encrusted vase holding pens and quills.

Pages and trinkets were scattered about the surface; I fought the urge to dig through them and find the perfect objects to enchant.

Beneath the window was a work bench. Marius’s tools, beakers, and ingredients were neatly arranged, catching the moonlight so that they nearly glowed.

It was chaotic. It was beautiful. I stood transfixed, mouth open in wonder, and Marius sidled up to me. “Knew you’d like it,” he said.

For once, he wasn’t gloating, merely pleased.

“It’s… phenomenal,” I managed. “I didn’t know this was here.”

“Yes, well, people aren’t generally permitted in my quarters,” he said, striding to the desk, where he opened a drawer that squeaked and stuttered. While he rummaged about, I explored the rest of the study, examining scrolls of paper, the worn titles of books.

“I have to make a concentrated effort not to live as a hermit, it’s true,” he said, approaching me from behind. “Left to my own devices, I could entertain myself for weeks in here. Lucky if I’m ever ill again, I suppose.”

He gestured around the room with his free hand. The other held a box just small enough to balance on his palm. Perfectly cube shaped, its corners were sharp as daggers. Nicks and scratches marred the wood. A single, rusted lock sat at its center, the keyhole reminiscent of a skull.

Immediately, I had my doubts. “What is that?”

“Well, it’s a box, and I can’t seem to open it,” he huffed. “The lock is eroded, and the key won’t work. I think it’s related to the ring, but I’m honestly not sure.”

I stared at it, unnerved by its energy. While it didn’t frighten me in the same way as the ring, it felt somehow resentful, unwelcoming. “I think we should reconsider,” I said. “Marius, it’s—It doesn’t feel right.”

He frowned, first at me, then at the box. “I need to know what’s in there,” he said, more to himself than to me.

“No, you don’t,” I told him, growing worried. Maybe I’d underestimated the box’s influence over him. “Not yet. Why don’t you set that down, and we can talk?”

His lip twitched. With great reluctance, he returned it to the drawer and faced me. “I have to get rid of this ring,” he said, scrubbing a hand down his face. “If this box is tied to the ring, then I must know what’s inside.”

I plopped down on the work bench. I should have worried about dirtying my skirts, but at that moment, I was back at the forge, watching Cranz scowl over a particularly stubborn enchantment, sweating and swearing.

I knew how to work through magical problems. At least, in theory.

“Let’s start at the beginning. Let’s ignore the box for the moment.

If the ring came from the gods, then how does one get rid of it? ”

He sat beside me and buried his face in his hands.

“I don’t know. I can’t bear to pass it on.

Nor can I bear to see our lands destroyed and our people killed.

But the history of this ring—it’s brutal, bloody.

Hundreds of years of wars and betrayals, famines, forced marriages.

Besides….” His voice lowered in hesitation, and his hands fell to his lap.

“I’m not entirely convinced the ring is the work of the gods. ”

Shock rippled through me. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, I’d only recently learned of the ring and its origin. But to claim that the gods were credited for another’s work was very bold indeed. “Oh.”

“Of course, it’s difficult to ascertain, as no one wants to aid my search.

Everyone suspects I’m up to something, and they’re right.

But they aren’t grasping its importance,” Marius scoffed, twisting one of the rings on his finger.

“I know I ought to be more focused on Liridin, and I am trying, but this… No one understands how important this is.”

“I disagree,” I said, even though I suspected I hadn’t fully grasped the enormity of his statement. “I do.”

His answering smile was remorseful. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this. I know you didn’t ask to become involved in something so… scandalous.”

Marius was nothing if not a walking scandal—he loved who he pleased and what he pleased, fought for his people, sought to destroy the very thing that kept him enslaved in a system that would destroy him right back.

But I admired that about him—his tenacity, his eager, unashamed ways.

Hardly becoming of a king, but a prince—a prince need not conform to those world-weary views just yet.

And I hoped he never did. Hoped he stayed just as fiery and ridiculous as always.

“What do you think is inside the box?” I asked, instead of assuring him that I loved chasing rumors and sneaking about with him.

I did. But I didn’t want him to know it yet.

Unlike Marius, I was ashamed. I’d broken so many rules.

Rules that I’d grown up with and never challenged until I came to Tocchia.

A part of me wasn’t ready for this, while another part relished these newfound moments.

Sometimes, in my darkest moments, I wondered what my father would say when he found out. If he found out.

I didn’t want to know.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “It was last in possession of my father, obviously, and he never tried to open it. Before that, it belonged to Duke Harledon Mair of Luminden. According to the legends, he was the last person to attempt to destroy the ring.” Marius winced.

“If you’re curious, he was wildly unsuccessful. ”

I frowned. The name was familiar. But where did I know it from?