“You shall also be the first to take the Crown’s challenge and compete for my daughter’s hand!”
Like a man suddenly Cast to stone, Henry’s smile froze, arm still hoisting a trophy that seemed to have dulled in the light.
Aria’s expression couldn’t be seen.
Baron applauded with the rest of court because people watched him from all sides, and he refused to meet Corvin’s gaze no matter how the boy tilted on the bench.
As the royal family descended from the stands, Baron stood with the rest of the audience.
“Time to go home,” he said.
Where he would then have to remain. Imprisoned for the actions of another.
He’d been wrong not to leave the country when he’d had the chance. He ought to have packed up his brothers and taken them to his mother’s sister in Patriamere. She was a kind woman; she still sent him letters every few years. There were also lands across the sea, like Pravusat, where Silas attended university. It was a country boiling with war but welcoming of magic.
Edith had warned him to run. Most of the Casters he knew personally had already fled.
But every time Baron had considered it, he’d remembered his father’s hopes, remembered that his parents were buried on Reeves soil. This warm land with its lemon trees was all Baron had ever known.
He’d sacrificed his life for lemons.
While the rest of court applauded Henry’s victory and her father’s declaration, Aria watched her sister, who sat hunched, never lifting her eyes from her lap.
As the king moved to exit the royal box, Aria caught the sleeve of his red coat.
She found she couldn’t speak, yet whatever burned in her eyes was flame enough to make her father lean away from the heat of it.
“I did not decide the tournament champion, and selecting another for the challenge would have been a slight to young Wycliff’s victory.” His eyes moved briefly toward Eliza before he shook his head. “The matter at hand takes precedent over preference, and Eliza’s romantic whims are such that she’ll find a new boy within the week.”
“You didn’t have to do this,” Aria whispered. “You didn’t have to do any of this.”
“You did not have to visit Northglen all those weeks ago.Idid not begin this, Aria, but I will see it sorted right before the end.”
He exited the box onto the field, moving to speak with Henry and Earl Wycliff.
Aria set her jaw.
Quickly, she crouched before Eliza, grasping her sister’s hands. “I’ll fix it. All of it. Trust me.”
Her sister barely had time to blink before Aria was off again. As she left, the queen said something she didn’t catch and didn’t stop to hear repeated.
“Sir!” Aria barked at a royal guard. He snapped to attention. “Run ahead and find the carriage belonging to the Reeves family. They’re not permitted to leave until I give word.”
With a salute, the man rushed off. Her usual guards noticed Aria’s departure and stepped forward to escort her, keeping the crowd at bay as she passed—though no one was in a rush to speak with her. They only stared, their bows and curtsies delayed, their minds no doubt full of the king’s revelation of her curse.
Two proclamations her father had made. Two insane, terrible proclamations. Aria’s mind reached frantically for a solution to each, and with every thud of her steps on the brown grass, she used the drumming to press away an ever-constant thought.
She hadaskedfor an Artifact. Clearly this was some trap from Widow Morton, and once again, Aria had walked right into it.
The guard Aria had sent ahead was not the only one waiting at the Reeves carriage. A squad of Loegrian soldiers waited as well, crisp in their red uniforms, with horses at the ready. Their presence had drawn attention, and every nearby carriage lingered, the owners keeping pretense of friendly socializing while the frequent glances toward the Reeves boys exposed their conversation for the gossip it was.
The sight stoked the earlier fire in Aria’s chest. As she marched forward, she received bows and salutes from everyone present, but her attention did not waver from Baron and the twins.
“You’re all right?” she asked without preamble or formality.
Baron gave the faintest of nods, easing her heart. The twinshad been quietly arguing when she’d approached, but they both looked to her now, unable to mask their fear.
“Corvin!” Aria reached forward to catch the boy’s hand, lifting his arm. He’d scratched himself raw at the wrist, even to the point of blood.
