All at once, Baron’s memories crashed in—
Your father’s collapsed! Come quickly!
Do something, Baron!
Sitting on the bed beside his father, everything shaking, clinging to the man’s clammy hand, calling on all the power within himself, reaching desperately for a miracle.
Coming up short.
“I can’t,” he whispered, feeling sweat break across his forehead. “I can’t combat this. I’m not strong enough.”
Aria looked down. Her fingers slipped from his.
Baron swallowed. He opened his mouth to speak again—
From somewhere in the castle, a brass horn sounded. Aria leapt to her feet as if the bench had burned her. “The joust!”
Aria ran to the courtyard where her family waited in an open carriage, ready to head to the lists.
The queen sat peacefully in a deep red gown, her bundled hair woven with strands of tiny white roses, her expression breezy as she hummed a tune to herself. By contrast, the king was a red-and-white thundercloud beside her. The moment Aria sat next to Eliza, he waved for the carriage to move.
Causing delay. Mark.
“I’m sorry, Father. I ... fell asleep.”
“I am not surprised,” he said, and his tone added a wealth of extra, silent words. After a quick glance in her direction, he added, “Don’t mistake me, Aria. My anger is not directed at you. Not completely.”
She shared a look with Eliza. The younger princess shrugged.
“Have the latest soldiers returned from Northglen?” Aria asked.
After the break-in at the castle, her father had ordered another strike against Northglen, though Aria didn’t know the full details. Despite her best efforts, she’d nodded off in the meeting. She had, however, managed to speak to the captain in charge, briefly explaining Artifacts and asking him to bring back anysuspicious items Widow Morton might have used to anchor her power. It was the best she could do.
Her father’s expression darkened at the mention of soldiers, so Aria didn’t press.
If Northglen became a true battlefield—if Casters became theenemy—what would happen to Baron?
Aria twined her fingers in her lap, missing the warmth of his hands around hers and trying not to think of his words.She means to kill you. I can’t combat this.
Despite the chill breeze and overcast sky, the stands hummed with excitement. All of court was in attendance, with the rest of the seats given to castle staff and people from Sutton—one of the benefits of living near the castle. The contestants rode on prancing horses through the lists, giving parade to the audience, basking in cheers and, occasionally, catching a tossed handkerchief or flower.
Biting her lip, Eliza pointed out Henry, the contestant bearing a blue siren on his coat of arms. The sisters shared a smile.
The contestants took up their line, and the king stood to begin the formal welcome.
To Aria’s surprise, he gestured for her to join him.
Brushing her skirt quickly, she strode to the front of the royal box, looking out over the canopied stands. Too many faces to find Baron, but he would see her, and she smiled at the thought.
“Esteemed members of court and people of Loegria,” the king boomed, silencing the crowd. “Welcome to the Crown’s joust. If only it could be a welcome beneath fairer circumstances. Instead, our kingdom is in dire times. Beset by wicked magic.”
Aria’s smile faltered. She glanced at her father, but he stared resolutely across the lists.
“The Morton family, once beloved in our court, has committedtreason.” Raising a hand, the king brandished a sheet of parchment, torn in the center by a dagger. “First, Clarissa Morton, once-countess and Caster, denounced the authority of the Crown. Next, she invaded the royal castle. Warned to desist, she persisted. Stripped of title, she persisted. Now, she has delivered a blow to the heart of the kingdom—she has cursed my daughter and heir!”
Widow Morton wasn’t the only one delivering a blow. Aria’s father had finally realized the truth, but rather than speak to her in private, he announced it to the kingdom. Aria felt as exposed as if he’d passed her journal out for everyone to read. Shouts rose in the audience, and conversations grew, like the first rumblings of a rockslide.
She wished she could find Baron’s face in the crowd.
