And here she was, defending a Caster. Again.
“It seems I cannot get anything right,” she whispered. “No matter how I try.”
As the music ended, her father gave another sigh, this one softer. “I never doubt your earnestness, Aria, but unbridled emotion serves no one. Remember that. In the future, you may bring concerns to me beforehand, but you will not challenge me before the court.”
“Yes, Father.”
They parted, and the king led Eliza to the dance floor next. Eliza practically bounced beside him, light on her toes, expression eager. The queen had already vacated her throne; no doubt she’d gone to join the orchestra. Aria couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her parents dance.
Lord Christopher, a potential suitor, sidled up to introduce himself. He invited Aria to dance, and numbly, she agreed, though her legs already ached. By a stroke of luck, he was happy to hold the conversation without a partner.
By the time the music broke, so did her ability to smile, and her head had taken on a pounding ache.
“I’m terribly sorry.” She mustered a shallow curtsy. “I must step out for a moment.”
Exhaustion made her teeter as she walked. She caught a glimpse of Eliza surrounded by a group of friends. Her sister’s beaming smile faltered, meaning Aria’s breezy expression was not as convincing as she’d hoped. Aria looked away, unable to stop the wretchedly ungrateful thought that, right now, her sister was simply one more person to disappoint.
The hallway leading toward the kitchen was empty, and Aria didn’t make it far before her legs gave out. She staggered into a pillar, then sank down, tucking herself as close to the wall as possible.
She’d come to the ball armed with a plan—win the favor of Lord Reeves, subtly interview him about the abilities of Casters,probing for ways to undo a curse—and she’d failed spectacularly. It was how things always happened.
For a few moments, the burning in her eyes kept her awake. Then she blinked the tears away, and exhaustion dragged her into sleep.
Aria woke as arguing voices approached from down the hall.
“ ... expect nothing less from a birdbrain like you!” an angry young voice shouted.
“You’re jealous my birds are smarter than you,” another voice snapped in return. “There’s nothing you can do that a falcon can’t do better except irritate me!”
Face flushed, Aria dragged herself up on shaky legs, trying not to tumble out of hiding. With every second, the voices drew closer.
“I’d like to see a falcon bake a pie. On second thought, I’d throw in the whole bird!”
“Take it back, Leon.”
“Make me, beak-nose!”
Aria braced herself to be discovered—her mind still humiliatingly blank of excuses for her position—when she realized the arguing parties had no interest in her. The two teenage boys who came into view elbowed and jostled and grabbed until one finally seized the other and rammed him into the wall.
Aria gasped, but before she could step in, a familiar man caught up, separating the boys with the help of his cane.
Guillaume Reeves. Dressed in his black mourning attire and more handsome than any Caster had a right to be, due mostly to the ripples in his tawny hair and the single dimple in his right cheek.
Though it might also have been his green eyes, bright as spring, warm as summer.
The green eyes staring right into hers.
Of all the people to find her ...
While Aria gaped, Lord Reeves recovered.
“Your Royal Highness.” He made a proper bow, just as he’d done to her father.
Behind him, the two boys—who Aria now realized were twins—stared at her. They each wore cornflower-blue suits and black armbands, but one was thin as a twig, with long, sharp features and dark hair. The other was rounded in every sense of the word, with wheat-blond hair and what seemed to be a permanent frown. They were the exact same height with the exact same brown eyes.
“Boys.” Lord Reeves tapped his cane sternly against the floor.
“Y—Your Highness,” stammered out the dark-haired boy. After a half second, he seemed to remember the bow, tacking one on.
