Baron had never before pitied his father.
Then he had another realization.Appearances.“You never burned my mother’s books, did you? When you left, you took them. Youusedthem. You’re using them still.”
Widow Morton’s curse was a feat Baron couldn’t explain because she had a resource Baron had never been able to fully study.
“Yes,” Sarah admitted quietly. “Leon couldn’t help bragging he’d found a secret, and once I saw the books, I realized what was possible. I had never imagined a curse could be spread not just through blood but throughbloodline. I never would have thought myself capable of holding a sleeping Cast over an entire castle. Thank the realms that Patriamere held to knowledge we erased.”
“I should have burned them myself.” Baron trembled as hespoke. “You involvedmein a plot against the king, a plot to bring down the country I love.”
And he did love it, flaws and all. He could not separate the most terrible parts of his homeland from its most wonderful. He could only fight to improve it all together.
He’d learned that from his father.
“You took the one inheritance I had from my mother,” Baron whispered, “and you used it against me.”
“No, Baron.” Sarah’s voice cracked, and she clenched her jaw, resuming her firm posture. “Notagainst you. I’ve been begging you to understand. This has all been to protect you, to protect Corvin and Leon. I never ... Ineverwould have left if not forced. But I had to act. I knew a reckless revolt would only make things worse, so I had to find allies. I had to establish protections.”
“And what good have your protections done you?”
“We are ready for the day the king marches his army. With that act of aggression, no one can argue our response, and when his soldiers fall helplessly asleep in their camp, even a large force becomes easy to manage.”
“This isn’t right,” Baron whispered.
“That’s Marcus talking.”
“It’sme, Sarah. I see you’re unable to hear anything beyond your own fears, so I will say this clearly.” He drew in a breath and looked at her with steel in his eyes. “Step aside, or I will force you to.”
Sarah only stood with more firmness, lifting her hands in readiness for Casting. “The princess is gone. You have to accept that. But you can protect Corvin and Leon. Your help would make all the difference in our efforts. You could help us build a kingdom where we’d all be safe.”
“I don’t want a kingdom without Aria.”
“Then we are at an impasse. If you take a step, I’ll lock you inplace. Your Casting options are not nearly so harmless. Will you boil my blood?”
Baron hesitated.
Sarah softened her voice. “I know you, Baron. You have the kindest heart in the kingdom. I know you’re not dangerous.”
When Aria said it, he felt lifted. When Sarah said it, he felt patronized. Baron was not dangerous, not inherently; he preferred tempered reactions, diplomatic solutions.
But he could be.
“Step. Aside,” he repeated.
Sound from above stopped her response—first a scream from Aria, then the loud shattering of windows.
And Baron became dangerous.
Aria tried to plead her case, but every argument fell on deaf ears. She’d been wrong to think Widow Morton could still be reached. Rather than entertaining a conversation, the woman pulled a small white towel from her pocket, still bearing the rusted-brown streaks of Aria’s dried blood.
“I know you think my curse cruel,” she said, “but I was as kind in it as I could be. You’ve had time to make peace with your family, to prepare for the end, to even attend a few dances. I gave you the opportunity for the goodbye my son never had. Now that the Cast has taken root in your sisters, it’s time to be finished with the source.”
Wind howled against the windows, a beast calling to be fed.
“You think to destroy the king”—Aria’s eyes burned with tears—“but you are just like him.”
The widow nodded, lips pressed to a line. “Perhaps I am.”
She crumpled the cloth in one fist, and at her touch upon the dried blood, fire burst to life in Aria’s veins.
