Page 55 of The Starlit Ring (The Chronicles of Liridin #1)

“Princess Talina,” he greeted, spinning to face me.

Our last meeting had gone as I expected.

Marius was tense, I was exhausted, and we spent the entire night trying to amplify his visions.

I suspected he must have been successful, because he looked haunted when he sat up, and quietly asked me to leave.

I was too tired to do anything other than oblige, though I hated to abandon him.

We had mere days left together. Afterward.

I’d be in hiding, and he’d be wedded to my sister, and then what? Would we still see each other?

It was unfathomable to think that I’d never feel his embrace again. I could not bear to part from him. If we ended things, it would surely devastate me.

But what else could we do?

“Prince Marius,” I replied, lifting my chin, smiling politely.

Something in his expression eased. “I’ve missed you,” he said. But he did not come to embrace me. “I would like to talk. About something rather serious. Care to join me in the study?”

“Must we be serious?” I quipped, stepping up to him, hoping to crack his facade.

A grimace strained his face. “I’m afraid so, my lady. Would you follow me?”

Dread built in my stomach like foul rot. I took his hand, and joined him in the study, where he continued to pace. I sat in a chair, hoping he might follow my lead, but he was lost in his worry, stalking from one end of the room to the next.

“I have a proposition,” he said, glancing toward me, then out the window. “It is… completely and utterly mad. Dare I say kingdom-shattering.” He twisted the ring on his index finger. “But I would be remiss not to suggest it.”

My jaw dropped. I hurried to close it, to keep from gaping like a fool.

Kingdom-shattering? What insanity had he concocted?

“Don’t keep me in suspense,” I said, adjusting my skirts, praying that he wouldn’t say anything traitorous.

Nothing that could land us in worse trouble than we were already in.

I waited with bated breath for him to parse out the words.

His hands clenched and unclenched. He glanced again to the window, as if half-tempted to leap from it, and then turned back to me.

The long line of his body was silhouetted by moonlight.

Beneath his cloak, I could barely make out his lithe form.

“I… am under the impression,” he began, taking deep breaths between words.

“That you are, definitely, absolutely of royal blood. Am I correct in that?”

Oh. Oh no. “There are rumors,” I said, letting my gaze drift to the wall. Shame flooded me like poison. “That I am not King Amonrew’s daughter.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “And your mother?”

“She was a northern islander. Desmink.” I shifted uncomfortably. “They do things differently there, but she was a princess, if that’s what you mean.”

“So it’s uncertain,” said Marius. He was halfway to madness—eyes too bright, movements too sharp, jaw constantly tightening so that the muscles in his neck corded out. He paced the length of the room.

“My father has always insisted that I am of his blood. I don’t think he would have defended me if he doubted my mother’s loyalty,” I said. “It’s just—my hair?—”

Marius nodded. “I’m familiar with the rumors. They’re the reason my father decided I was to marry Princess Valeria. But if you have royal blood… If you’re certain…”

“Yes,” I said, nodding. I wanted to smooth the lines from his face, but I was afraid to distract him. Whatever he had to say, I wanted to hear it. “As far as I know.”

“Then it doesn’t really matter if there’s a public dispute,” said Marius, turning a corner, and facing me once more.

His brow was furrowed, his mouth tight. “In theory, if you wanted to—” He inhaled.

And inhaled again. And again, until I feared that his lungs would burst. Then he coughed, blinked rapidly.

“I’m sorry,” he said, falling into the chair opposite me. “I’m afraid I’ve lost my mettle.”

“It’s alright,” I told him, too confused to say anything else. An idea picked at the edges of my mind like a crow at a carcass, but I couldn’t quite grasp it.

“We could…” He coughed, sat up. Caught my eye.

He burned with a feverish intensity. “ We could marry. If you wanted. It would be the scandal of the ages, but, well, no one could really contest it. I’d pass on my inheritance to a member of the Olmsteadian royal family, as intended.

Of course, you’d have to keep the ring until we figured out what to do with it, although I’m told it’s rather more pleasant once it’s found its new owner.

But I wouldn’t blame you at all—Gods, I’m babbling.

I mean, you probably aren’t shocked, this is by far the worst proposal—actually, second worst proposal?—”

The buzzing in my ears drowned him out. My heart sprinted in my chest. A mixture of panic and frantic joy gripped me.

I had not dared to think that Marius might consider me as a real possibility.

I thought I’d be nothing more than the occasional dalliance, hidden away in the night, neatly tucked away by morning.

Valeria was the reasonable choice. Anyone would choose her over me.

If I agreed to marry Marius, all my disguises would fall away. No longer would I have to weave a web of lies. I could just be Talina, for the first time in my life. Not a suspected bastard, or a struggling artificer, or a maid.

But a crown was a hat like all the others, and I’d have to wrap my identity around it.

If I went home to Olmstead, I’d likely marry into a lower station.

If I married Marius, I’d one day be queen.

I could wake up beside him, curl around him at night, sit beside him in the library, walk with him in the gardens, travel to new realms…

…and bear the burden of the ring, the war that brewed on the horizon, and hundreds of other royal duties, which I’d always been glad to avoid.

Marius had stopped talking. His eyes were glued to my face.

Shock numbed me, made me clumsy and weak. I breathed out, in. I should say something. Questions swept about my skull like clams caught in a tide, but none of them made it to my mouth.

“Listen,” said Marius, now panicked. “We don’t have to?—”

“Wait,” I said, holding out my hand. “Wait. I-I have questions.”

“Oh,” he said, looking down at the floor. “Questions. Yes. I can handle questions.”

In an effort to quell his panic, I stretched out my leg and placed the toe of my boot over his. “I’m not saying no,” I promised. “But won’t the King be angry?”

Marius scratched the back of his neck and frowned as he considered this. “I think there will be more than one angry king,” he said. “But my father can’t protest too much. The ring would be passed on, according to tradition.” He nodded, more to himself than to me. “Ultimately, it would be allowed.”

I wasn’t quite ready to trust him, but he had a better idea than I did about what was acceptable in Tocchia. “What about Valeria?”

He swallowed, gave a miserable shrug. “I don’t know. I imagine she has other prospects.”

“She does,” I said, thinking of all the princes and counts and dukes who had inquired to her over the years. “But that doesn’t mean she won’t be hurt.”

“I am not even entirely sure she likes me,” said Marius softly.

“I think she tolerates me. But I fear she would grow to despise me.” He crossed his long legs at the ankles and stared out the window.

“We never connected like I’d hoped we might.

I would like for her to be happy. And I would like that for myself as well, if I’m perfectly honest. But you’re right.

I don’t want to hurt her. If our marriage were broken off, I imagine she would be compensated for her time, although I understand that won’t change her feelings on the matter. ”

No, I imagined it wouldn’t. I sighed, head hanging. Was there no way for both of us to be happy?

“My father will be furious,” I said, raising my head at last. Marius’s eyes were red. A muscle in his jaw shivered.

“I can’t imagine it would change his plans drastically. One daughter would still marry a prince. Valeria may yet, as well. Just not this prince.” He gestured to himself.

“There’s nothing I want more,” I said finally. “But we should plan this carefully.”

“Yes, of course,” he said. “We’ve only a few days before our cover is blown, but I’m sure we can work this out.” He grinned at me, but his eyes were wet. “So does that mean...?”

I thought I’d be happier to accept his proposal. Elated, even. But tears sprang to my eyes, too, as I stood on wobbly legs and deposited myself into his lap like bad news. “Yes,” I said, draping my arms around him. “I want to marry you.”

“Good,” said Marius, relaxing for the first time.

His arms wrapped around me, pulled me close.

I buried my face in his shoulder and inhaled the scent there.

Pine, and something musty, like old books.

Even through his clothes, I felt the beating of his heart, strong and sure.

“I-I want to marry you, too. I could say more, but I should probably shut up, shouldn’t I? ”

“Yes,” I growled, only half-playful. I drew back to glare at him. “We can talk more later. Right now, I’d rather you kissed me.”

“Oh, gladly,” he said, leaning in until his lips were only inches from mine. Wet droplets sparkled on his long lashes, left tracks of his high cheekbones. Even in tears, he was exquisite, closer to an artist’s rendition than a flesh and blood human being. “My lady. My love. My?—”

I closed the gap and devoured his words.

Our kiss was salty, punctuated by the occasional wet laugh.

Neither one of could stop crying, or giggling, and I was thrilled to be in his arms, knowing I was wanted, I was chosen, I was safe.

If everything worked out, I’d have no fear of losing him, or of a life spent on the run.

But it was too early to celebrate. If only I could convince my foolish, fragile heart.

“I’ve a plan,” said Marius, the next day. The Northern Lights flickered and wove above us, stretching and bending like a musician’s fingers. “It’s admittedly a little risky, but I think it could work.”

I tore my gaze from the ceiling to his face. We’d only just made our way into the Star Room, and I was still tired, not yet energized by any of our usual midnight activities. “Risky?”

“Well, admittedly, this entire endeavor is risky,” he shrugged.

“I don’t believe we’ll be punished—I’ve checked the laws, and so long as my father and stepmother don’t break them, we should be fine—but our reputations will be marred.

If Father is spectacularly upset, I may be forced to forfeit my claim to the throne to Gavin, which is honestly no great loss.

I think I should be a little aimless, but I wouldn’t be disowned, exactly.

I’m sure I could find something to do with myself, and you—you’ve no real interest in ruling? I’ve never heard you mention it.”

“It wasn’t an option before,” I reminded him. “But no. Not really. I’ve always thought it seemed dull. And like a great responsibility.” I mulled over his words. Not disowned. Did that mean we would be ousted from the palace? Perhaps to another estate?

Or thrown to the wide world like a handful of ashes?

“Good enough. I wanted to be sure,” said Marius.

“I don’t think we could be exiled, or anything so serious.

” He sighed and plopped down on the altar like an old man collapsing after a long day in the fields.

“I plan to speak to my father the night prior to King Amonrew’s arrival.

I will inform him of the situation. It will be an ordeal, of course, but—” He inhaled sharply. “—that will be that.”

“Should I come with you?” I asked, following him to the altar. He made no move to stop me, and scooted over to make room, so I sat gingerly. It was exactly as uncomfortable as it looked, and I wondered how he could lie here so long, on this literal stone slab, like a sacrifice waiting for death .

“Do you want to?” he asked, turning to look at me. Pale lashes framed wide, wild eyes.

“If you think it would help.”

“I think it would help me ,” he said, nodding. But his lips pressed into a thin line, and I saw his worry even before the little wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows.

“Then I’ll go with you,” I said, before he could reconsider. My hand found his, and our fingers laced together.

“Good,” he said, kissing me softly. “I’d be glad to have you.”