When Baron first heard the news, he thought the castle had been attacked. Mrs. Caldwell assured him it wasn’t that serious, though everyone remained on edge—a break-in at night, somehow passing every guard without opposition. A threatening message.
He wrote to Aria immediately, asking if she was all right. Receiving her next letter allowed him to breathe again.
The event itself isn’t nearly so frightening as the implications. Rebellions, riots, wars—these things are a monarch’s worst nightmare. Worse still is seeing the conflict approaching while being powerless to stop it.
May we speak of brighter topics? I am a coward.
Baron couldn’t blame her. His own mind grew restless whenever he considered Northglen, and while it was not his responsibility to resolve the matter, he would certainly bear the consequences of it.
For both their sakes, he distracted her with a story from his school years, and he answered her latest question about Casting—Is it possible for a Cast to change over time?—before falling, as usual, into news of the boys. She never chided him for how much of his letters were about his brothers.
They’re lucky to have you. A caring, trustworthy sibling makes all the difference when facing the difficulties of life. I would know; I have Eliza.
How often she did that—soothed fears he’d not even meant to express. He hadn’t told her of his deep worry that he was failing the twins, that his presence caused them more harm than good.
At times, you seem to read my mind. Are you certain you’re not the magic user?
Only after sending the letter did he realize he’d never joked with a non-magic-user about magic. The topic had always been too full of teeth.
But Aria’s response didn’t bite.
Ah, the mythological third type of Caster—apparently a mind reader. If the ability allowed me to anticipate the needs and wants of others, I would get a great deal more things right in life. Mind Caster Aria. I am envious of the mythological me.
The crown princess envied a version of herself with magic. Baron never could have imagined the day—never could have imagined his part in it. Had he known changing the kingdom would be this enjoyable, he could have spared himself a lot of worry.
After one message handoff, Corvin joked, “You could at least tell me what the princess says, since I’m the best brother and never peek.”
She said a great deal of things, and far too many of them stirred Baron’s emotions in ways he didn’t expect.
All he said was, “She warns you not to climb the palace roof.”
After his stories of Corvin’s climbing, she’d shared one of her own.
It is best that Corvin made no attempt to climb the palace roof while here, an activity which brings immediate wrath from the guards and many lectures to follow—he may take eight-year-old Aria’s word for it.
Corvin’s cheeks flushed red. “I don’t!” Then, under scrutiny, he admitted, “I may have been tempted by a tower. Once. I may have perched—I have no need to explain myself.”
Baron’s stomach tightened. Leon still had a good sense of fear in him while transformed—a cautious cat—but Corvin seemed to find as much freedom in transformation as he found in flight itself. He went places he shouldn’t. He lost track of time, of watching eyes.
And the most difficult line Baron walked was encouraging his brothers to hide without instilling in them a sense of shame. If they could not announce their nature to the world, he at least wanted them to stand proudly before a mirror.
“Don’t be seen,” he said, softening the words by ruffling the boy’s hair.
Corvin smiled. “Don’t worry about me.”
Ironic, since Baron did little else. Especially as Huxley’s sourness increased. When Corvin spent time under Huxley’s tutelage, he left with scratched wrists and desperate eyes, often transforming immediately after. If Baron distracted him with letter deliveries, the boy remained upbeat, but Huxley grew more temperamental. For now, the steward directed his sourness at Baron, assuming Corvin’s elusiveness was a direct result of Baron’s interference. In part, the man was right, and since Baron could handle the hostility, he continued his path, each new letter renewing his own mood.
In addition to writing to Aria, something else kept himoptimistic. For the first time in Baron’s life, he was looking forward to a court event.
When he’d asked to speak in person, Princess Aria had responded with an invitation to an upcoming court joust.
Your brother will no doubt receive an official invitation soon, but what it won’t include is this: Come to the kitchen an hour early. I’ll bombard you with the usual number of questions, and if you’re willing, you could make tea. I’ve not forgotten the incredible effect of the last cup.
As the joust approached, Baron made drinks for his brothers without thinking.
“Glad to see you’re back in the practice,” Leon said, purring happily. “You must have lemons on your mind, because you made buttermilk, but I’ll accept it.”
For Corvin’s part, he seemed to stand a little taller and more confidently in Mr. Huxley’s presence, so Baron resolved to offer him morning tea more regularly.
