“Execution,” said the king.
Baron’s heart stopped.
“That is the price for failure of the Crown’s challenge.”
With a low gasp, Baron managed to breathe again, but only just.
“You will take the challenge,Lord Guillaume, just as you wish, and when you fail, the punishment will be execution. In addition, you will not interact with the princess, and you will notbe permitted to touch liquid within the walls of my palace. The only rooms you will set foot in are this one, the anteroom, and the Artifact room itself. Two members of my personal guard will accompany you at all times.”
Baron thought he should say something heroic, but any echo of Einar he’d managed to summon for himself had vanished under the mention of death. He barely managed, “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“If this is the pyre you choose to burn upon,” said the king, “so be it.”
Though it was hard to pry Corvin away from Jenny, Aria made sure he headed home before nightfall. Jenny offered to accompany her to Northglen, but the girl trembled as she said it, and Aria wouldn’t put her in danger.
“I need a different kind of help.” Gesturing to a stack of parchment on her desk, she said, “I’ve written summons for the Upper Court but not managed to send them. Half go by falcon to nearby estates. The others are scattered within the palace. Ihaveto have at least ten members in attendance to hold an official meeting.”
Jenny nodded, realizing the need. “I’ll deliver them, Highness.”
Aria thanked her with another hug. Then she forced her door open—forcedbecause there was a guard slumped in the way, and she had to drive her shoulder in to dump him on the floor. She whispered an apology.
Then she ran down the hall toward the Artifact room. She’d already heard Baron’s verdict from the guards.
He met her on the main landing, outside the Artifact room, and his smile set her heart pounding more than the run down the stairs. She crashed into his arms, sending him stumbling back a pace, laughing as he caught them with one hand on the wall.
“At least there’s no wall of knives this ti—”
She stole his words with a kiss, delivered with all the fervor she felt knowing he’d come to the palace for her sake, knowing the danger he’d braved. After a day of drafting the same agreement a dozen times, she’d spent all her words, so she wrapped her arms around his neck and breathed deep the scent of lemons and kissed him with all the passion words could never say.
Though Baron held frozen at first, he quickly melted, and he returned softness for her urgency, kissing her in a way that calmed her heart, that made each solitary beat heavier and more meaningful, reverberating through her entire body. He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her with a solid strength that promised to catch her whenever needed.
Then he pulled back, kissing her temple before whispering, “Thank you for your message.”
“I can’t believe you came,” she whispered back, her cheek pressed to his.
“I only hope you can forgive the delay. There was a bit of cowardice involved.”
Aria scoffed. She pulled back to look in his shadowed green eyes. “I can think of no one braver.”
“A princess comes to mind. One who repeatedly meets alone with Casters.”
“Most people would call that foolishness.”
He brushed his bare fingers across her temple and around her ear before cradling her cheek. “It’s trusting. Why should that be a bad thing just because Widow Morton took advantage? I can say with certainty it changed my life for the better. And from this moment on, whatever foolish or dangerous thing you find yourself required to do, you don’t have to do it alone.”
Aria kissed him again. The two of them alone in a dark castle made for its own kind of oasis, one she wished to stay in forever, to hold as a refuge while the storm raged outside, waiting for her.
Unfortunately, there was only so much time in the night, andsome things could not be delayed. She broke for air, resting her forehead against Baron’s.
“To Northglen?” she managed, dreading the journey.
Baron kissed her once more, tender and lingering, the light brush of his fingers sending shivers along her neck.
“To Northglen,” he agreed.
The sky Aria had enjoyed only two nights previous now seemed ominous, oppressively dark beneath the empty new moon and scattered gray clouds. Even the lanterns she and Baron carried seemed to shrink against the cold night, lighting the path only a few feet ahead and sputtering fearfully in the wind as they reached the mountain.
Already dressed in a thick wool riding coat, Aria still pulled on a heavy cloak once they began the climb up the mountainside. Before leaving the palace, she’d gathered her new peace agreement, along with the false Artifact, and then raided her father’s closet for something Baron could wear, only to find everything made of pristine white fur and emblazoned with the royal crest. In the end, she took her mother’s riding cloak, which was black wool with a black fur lining, practical for travel.
