When she arrived, she smiled at Baron in a way that seemed both reserved and thoughtful. Trustworthy. When he told her his father called him “Baron,” she didn’t laugh. She didn’t even hesitate.
“You will be in the future,” she said, as if it were the most logical thing in the world. “May as well try the title on early.”
By the same logic, Baron asked if she’d tried on the Reeves title. Though Father had choked at the question, Sarah had shared the mischievous joke for what it was and responded,“‘Baroness Sarah Reeves.’ That does have a certain majesty, doesn’t it? Perhaps one day.”
“One day” had come in a matter of months, and the twins soon after that. Baron had thought he might hate sharing his father with anyone; instead, he loved his new family with the same fierceness—the same rightness—he felt inside when magic called. Sarah wasn’t afraid of him, and she wasn’t afraid to let him hold one of the new babies while her arms were full with the other. Sometimes she would reach out and ruffle his hair the way he thought a real mother would.
And after all that . . .
“I’m sorry,” Sarah said, “about your attachment to the princess. Truly. We all wish there was a different way, but there isn’t. Think of the twins.”
Baron’s fingers tightened on his sword. “The way you thought of them when you abandoned us all? When you declared usdamned? How does that reflect on you—the hidden Caster?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Do you know how many times I wished someoneunderstoodme? Father tried. He did his best. Now I find that you were right there for years as I struggled with magic, as Corvin and Leon struggled with magic, and you never said a word.”
She flinched. Slowly, she folded her arms in, cradling her elbows as if bracing herself. “I did not declare damnation as a curse against my family. I simply had my eyes opened, at last, to the horror of our reality.”
“I don’t know what reality you were seeing, because I always thought we were happy until you tore the cornerstone from the foundation.”
Baron glanced toward the stairs, feeling his heart crack, one part pulling him toward the girl in danger, one part begging for an answer from the woman before him.
Clenching his jaw, Baron focused on Sarah. “Father wasdifferent after you left. Harder on the twins. Worse in his temper. Hegrievedyou, and where before he’d always been optimistic about our place in the kingdom, he started to carry a shadow of your damnation. He feared he’d lose all of us the way he lost you.”
Sarah opened her mouth, but Baron wasn’t finished.
“Grieving—are you familiar? Six months ago, when Father died, you didn’t come to the funeral. You didn’t send word, didn’t check on us at all. If you wantanyhope of me trusting you after that, you’ll stand aside, and you’ll let me get to Aria before I lose her too.”
When Baron had hired an investigator to find Sarah, he’d told himself it was for the twins—the twins needed a parent, the twins needed support in their grief. That had only been half the reason.
Because Baron had needed her too.
They locked eyes, and he waited.
But Sarah did not move.
Aria lurched for Baron as he disappeared, but her fingers only closed over a wisp of blue mist before even that vanished.
Rounding on the widow, she cried, “What have you done to him?”
“Oh, do calm down, Highness. I said I wouldn’t harm another Caster.”
“Considering the lies you told me about peace, how can I believe anything you say?”
“You tell me—you’re the one who cametotalk.”
Aria flinched beneath a wave of helplessness. Why had she ever thought she could do this, that any visit to Northglen could end happily? In her planning, things seemed rosy and hopeful, but now that she stood in Morton Manor once again, all she felt was the cold of the looming mountain.
Though large pillars crowded the space, awkwardly dividing up a room that ought to have been open, the ballroom contained one stunning feature—three massive floor-to-ceiling windows that took up an entire wall. The view looked down on the leeward side of the mountain, protected from the wind but still seeping cold like the beating heart of winter. She could see such a canopy of stars it felt like looking out into a realm of heaven, and belowthat, the shadow of the castle itself, far down in the valley. Her distant home. Unreachable.
With all the other writing Aria had done that day, she’d forgotten to pen her parents a letter. If she never came home, there would be no message, nothing left except an ongoing curse and her father’s fury.
Widow Morton patted her daughter’s shoulder. The girl flexed her hands with a wince, as if they ached, but she leaned into her mother’s touch.
“You’ve discovered my son was special,” Widow Morton said. “Lettie, here, is even more so—a type of Caster not seen in centuries. If we stick to the categorization of fluid and stone, I suppose she could be called a Portal Caster.”
Aria swallowed. “And if we used categories of blood and bone?”
“Youhavebeen studying, Highness. In that case, amid blood and bone, she would besoul. She can transport a person or object somewhere new without even touching them; they need only be within sight. By combining my power with hers, we can achieve communication across a kingdom and who knows what other wonders.” Widow Morton’s grip tightened protectively. “Can you imagine the fear such a power would cause?”
Aria could. And she knew exactly how her father dealt with fear.
