Page 53 of The Starlit Ring (The Chronicles of Liridin #1)

Then I remembered. A long-forgotten lecture back in Olmstead.

I was perhaps eleven or twelve years old, baking half to death in the summer heat and watching a fly buzz around the classroom.

My tutor was probably the same age that I was now, twenty-two or twenty-three, overeager and primped to the extreme.

Valeria sat beside me and repeatedly kicked me in the shin to keep me from drowsing.

If I was caught sleeping again, we’d both be punished.

That was the day we learned what happened to traitors of the gods.

With perhaps too much excitement, the tutor told us the story of Harledon Mair, who claimed the gods had not created all that was before us, and argued they didn’t exist at all.

For his defiance, he was confronted by Tynd, the god of creation.

At his side was his magical sword, Goffir.

In a fit of terror, Mair fled, ascending the highest tower of his estate, and clinging to its turrets.

A furious Tynd summoned a great rainstorm that flooded the fields and drowned the crops, but failed to dislodge Mair.

So Tynd invoked a great burst of wind, strong enough to send Mair tumbling free.

He dropped six stories down to the sodden earth, and only just survived.

Though he pleaded for his life and swore fealty, lightning struck down, and Mair was incinerated where he stood.

That afternoon’s lesson left my father furious.

His children were not to be told the ways of gods.

Specifically, we were not to be taught to fear or pledge our loyalty to them.

The gods, he argued, were not real, and neither was the story of Mair.

While it was important to appease the masses, and to pretend to believe, actually believing would compromise our integrity, leave us open to manipulation.

I never saw the tutor again after that.

“I remember the story,” I said. “Mair was smote, wasn’t he?”

With a shrug, Marius said, “Supposedly. It’s all legend now. Difficult to say what really happened.”

“What do you think happened?”

“I think he was nearly successful in destroying the ring and was killed for it. Not by a god, as such, but a member of the royal family. Possibly someone who stood to benefit from the ring. Or thought they would, anyway.”

“Have you ever tried to destroy the ring?”

Marius dragged his fingers through his hair.

His face and neck flushed. “I may have allegedly—according to Gavin—downed an entire bottle of wine by myself and launched the ring out a window. There was a manhunt afterwards, but it wasn’t recovered.

Interestingly, it was on my bedside table when I woke, and no one admitted to placing it there.

” He sighed. “And I may —allegedly—have smashed it with a hammer a time or two. It’s always right back on my bedside table by morning, whole and hale, like nothing ever happened. ”

I shuddered. “That’s horrifying.”

I couldn’t stop thinking of Mair’s demise. Was the box related to the ring?

Only one way to find out. I took one breath, then another, and said, “Get the box.”

Marius jerked to attention. His stare was baffled and elated at once. “Are you certain?”

“Not at all.” I squared my shoulders. “Let’s open it.”

“I’ve no intention of forcing you?—”

I spoke through gritted teeth. “Marius. Get the box. ”

He leapt to his feet and lowered into a deep, sweeping bow. “As you wish, my lady.”

I couldn’t help but giggle. “Now what would your stepmother think of that?”

“She learned a long time ago that her disapproval won’t change me.” He winked and departed in a rush of maroon coattails.

When he returned, the box rested in his palm, balanced there with unnatural ease. I tapped the button on my blouse. “I hope this works.”

Marius’s forehead wrinkled. “Why wouldn’t it?”

“I’m not a professional,” I reminded him. I hated to shatter his favorable impression of me, but Cranz would never forgive me for mismarketing my skillset.

“Regardless,” said Marius, waving his hand. “It’s worth a try.”

I nodded. “Ready?”

“If you are.” He waved a tiny bronze key and inserted it into the lock.

There was no clicking sound, only a loud grinding.

I closed my eyes and touched the button on my blouse. Focused on the energy emanating from it—perceptive and impartial. Then my attention shifted to the box, which radiated a sinister desperation.

Opening it now felt criminal, forbidden, but I wanted to help Marius. To see if there was any connection to the ring he was so eager to be rid of.

Screwing my eyes shut, I willed the box to open.

At first, I met resistance. I fought against it, but it was like slamming into a wall of solid steel. The longer I struggled, the weaker I became.

The lock did not give.

I began to panic. I’d claimed this would work. I’d accidentally lied to Marius, and I was going to look like an idiot, and?—

The box clicked open .

Marius leapt back. One hand flew out in front of me as if to protect me from some nefarious trap that might spring forth.

“Oh,” he whispered, hand lowering. “It worked.”

“It did,” I said, bewildered.

We shared a glance, then stepped closer. “Let me,” said Marius, reaching for the lid.

I smacked his hand away. “I’ll not be caught with your corpse if this thing turns out to be cursed.”

“And I couldn’t bear to live with yours,” he snapped.

“Well, ideally you’d bury me in a day or two. I’m sure you’ve the means.”

He crossed his arms. “I won’t live without you. I’m afraid I’d have to crawl into the grave with you, dearest, and it would be quite the spectacle. If you won’t spare my feelings, at least spare my reputation.”

I scowled at him. Surely, he had more composure than that.

Surely, he wasn’t in love with me.

Deep down, I wasn’t so confident.

“Fine, fine,” I agreed, waving my hand dismissively. “Your reputation may live another day.”

“Oh, goody.”

In the end, I used a stick to pry the box open. Marius grumbled a bit, but I was adamant that I wouldn’t be blamed for his death if things went awry.

The lid lifted, revealing nothing but a pile of dust the size of my fist.

“What the hell?” Marius breathed. Snatching the stick from my hand, he poked carefully at the mound. “This is… ash. Only ash.”

I watched carefully, half-expecting to see something hidden there—a scroll of paper, a vial, a rock, a key— anything .

There was nothing but dust.

“Fuck,” Marius hissed, swirling the stick frantically now, so that some ash rose into the air and dissipated. “Fuck. There’s got to be—Is this really just ash? ”

“I think so,” I said. “Marius, I’m so sorry. I know you were hoping?—”

“It’s quite alright.” He met my gaze with a strained smile. “I was hopeful, but I knew that it might be a failure.”

“Still,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said, closing the lid, and starting toward me. “That’s one mystery solved, at least. Thank you for the sacrifice of your button.”

The button was still securely attached to my blouse. But it was just a button now. The enchantment that resided in it only moments ago was gone, depleted.

And even though this was a difficult charm to master and I’d spent hours of spare time building up the spell, imbuing the button with magic over a series of weeks, I was quite pleased that it worked. I couldn’t help the way my cheeks lifted into a smile. “You’re welcome.”