Page 57 of The Starlit Ring (The Chronicles of Liridin #1)

“It is mad,” said Fallamor, rubbing at his temples. The chair squealed in time with his movements, and he scowled. “But life is short. If you find someone you want to spend your life with, you should certainly try.” His smile was strained. “But it’s harder when certain expectations are in place.”

“I know,” I groaned, leaning my head back. “All of this was probably a mistake.”

“Don’t lose hope,” said Fallamor, though I sensed he only said this for my benefit.

Something about his expression told me that he didn’t really believe the words coming from his mouth.

“If this is what Marius wants, then I’m going to trust that it’s what’s best for him. And you. Even if I’m, well, skeptical.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I was surprised to learn that he was serious, but I suppose I shouldn’t have. He has no qualms chasing what he wants.” I couldn’t keep the note of pride from my voice. Somehow, Marius wanted me back.

Fallamor rolled his eyes. “Princess Talina, I regret to inform you that the only reason he spent so much time with Princess Valeria was because he was absolutely enamored with you, and had no idea what else to do.”

A blush came to my cheeks. “I thought he hoped to change Valeria’s mind about him.”

Shrugging, Fallamor said, “Maybe initially. But he’s woefully transparent. You should’ve seen the way he looked for you every time he entered a room.” A pause. “He told me about the visions. The boring ones, he calls them.”

My face flushed. “How long have you known?”

“About as long as I’ve known you’re a princess. So about an hour,” he quipped.

I squirmed uncomfortably. I had nothing to say to that. No apology seemed quite adequate. I’d lied to everyone, and it would take time to earn back trust. If I was given the opportunity at all.

We lapsed into silence. Fallamor was not the chattiest companion on the best of days, and I was too worried about Marius to hold a conversation. More than once, Fallamor tried to distract me, but I couldn’t let go of the mental image of Marius sitting on a frozen floor, hunched in the darkness.

There were no windows in our little sanctuary. I flashed back to my time in the dungeon, in the oppressive dark and cold, with no window and no escape?—

I must’ve gone pale, because Fallamor took one look at me, and demanded, “What’s wrong?”

I twisted my hands in my lap. “It reminds me of the dungeons.”

“Why? Because it’s dark?”

“Because I’m trapped,” I said, voice small.

So Fallamor showed me how to leave the room, revealing a lever hidden behind a shelf. It turned with a deafening screech, but I felt relieved as the door inched open. I could manage a few levers, and a dark passage. I wasn’t a prisoner here.

Not yet, anyway.

As soon as I’d proven I could wrench the rusty lever on my own, Fallamor said, “I should see what’s going on. I’ll be back soon. Stay here, alright? Promise me. I won’t leave you any longer than necessary.”

“I promise,” I said, even though I had no intention of staying any longer than I had to. If the room grew too oppressive, I’d flee in an instant, even if I still wasn’t entirely sure what I was hiding from. The wrath of King Hergarv? Nosy onlookers? “Hurry back.”

“I promise,” echoed Fallamor. The passageway ground shut behind him.

I sat in tense silence. Minutes dragged past. The room seemed to grow smaller and smaller until I finally closed my eyes and drew my knees to my chest.

Fallamor would not betray me. Marius trusted him.

But Marius was in trouble. Something was wrong. I felt it in my bones, reverberating like a siren’s cry.

An hour passed, perhaps longer. Then came the telltale grinding.

I pulled my knife from its sheath. I’d not be caught off guard. I’d examined the cabinet of weapons near the door and found no way to open it without breaking the glass. If I needed to, I wouldn’t hesitate, but I didn’t want to ruin an antique cabinet without good cause.

Footsteps echoed down the hall. My ears strained, but I only detected one set of footsteps. Good .

The lever squealed, and the stone door creaked open. Fallamor appeared. Blood streaked from his eyebrow to his hairline, and his braid was disheveled.

“It’s fine,” he said quickly, gesturing at the open door behind him. “I fell in the hallway. There’s no fighting. Not yet, anyway.”

I slipped behind the chair and stowed my knife where Fallamor couldn’t see beneath my skirts.

“Going to stab me, were you?”

“I wasn’t taking chances,” I said primly, smoothing my skirts. “What’s going on?”

“Another messenger fell from the sky,” said Fallamor. He rubbed at his forehead as if trying to clear away the faint lines there. “Everyone has been summoned to the War Room. Except me, apparently.” His lips thinned into a line. “It appears news of my arrival has not yet reached the king.”

“Oh,” I said, throat tightening in trepidation. There was no way for Marius and I to run our proposition past King Hergarv now. Father would arrive tomorrow, and he would see me, and?—

I couldn’t speak. I gasped like someone on the verge of drowning, and I couldn’t stop.

“Princess Talina,” said Fallamor, stepping closer. Warm hands settled on my shoulders. “It’s all right. Here, breathe with me: inhale, hold, hold, alright, now exhale nice and slow…”

I followed his instructions as best I could, but I was lightheaded and terrified. Fallamor guided me to a chair, where I sat with my head lowered, trying to regain control of myself. “I have to flee,” I said, when my breaths had evened out, and my pulse had slowed. “King Amonrew?—”

It was Fallamor’s turn to pale. “I’ve an idea about that,” he said. “But you probably won’t like it.”

“Tell me,” I begged, and he did.

He was right. I didn’t like it.