He’d never known the claws of longing could sink so deep.
At last, he said, “She cares.”
The message buried in a thousand words across a dozen letters, in her questions about his interests, in her sympathy about his missing stepmother. Aria cared about him in a way he’d never imagined any girl would.
“If she cares enough to change an entire kingdom for you, then take my blessing. It’s just an awfully big gamble to make, Gilly.”
“She’s already promised to eradicate the branding law.”
“That’s a start.” Silas raised an eyebrow. “And how does she feel about your resident cat-and-crow?”
Baron’s eyes darted toward Leon at the other end of the kitchen. The boy gave no indication he was listening, but he had sharp ears.
Silas nodded. He let the silence say it all.
Then he pushed back his chair. “Before I leave, I’ll pay my respects to your father. Maybe see if I can summon an angel. Broker a deal to switch my father’s life for your father’s, because whoever’s running life and death in the world really,reallymade a mistake.” He gave another small grimace. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”
“There wasn’t anything you could have done.” Baron forced back the memory of the physician, the haunting voice always one step from his awareness—There’s nothing I can do—and cleared his throat. “You won’t stay for dinner?”
“Maggie would have my head if I abandoned her for the evening, but I’ll make sure she knows about yourparty.” He made a show of rolling his eyes. “At least that will satisfy my mother that I’m socializing again. She and Father both intend to see me married off yesterday, never mind I’m still two months from twenty, but at least she pretends it’s about happiness instead of hierarchy.”
He paused on his way out to talk to Leon about Pravish cuisine, and then he was gone.
Leaving Baron alone with nothing but questions and memories.
28 days left
The Crown’s challenge was straightforward: Any man undertaking it would stay in the castle three days, during which time he would have full access to the cursed Artifact—under guard, of course—and the freedom to destroy it through any method.
After being given two days to prepare, Henry returned to the castle, and Aria had an opportunity to speak with him at last. She met him in the display room where the Artifact was housed. Two guards stood at the door, failing to conceal their curious glances.
“Your Highness.” Henry performed a deep bow, then tossed his head to move his hair from his face.
Aria didn’t wear a gown as she would have for a suitor. Instead, she met Henry in a silk shirt and vest, armed to help. With a grunt, she dumped a stack of books into a chair at one edge of the room, huffing a winded breath after.
At Henry’s wide-eyed blink, she patted the stack. “Any information on Casters from our library, along with my own personal notes. I should inform you—I’ve been warned by a trustworthy Caster that breaking an Artifact may have unpredictable effect on its magic.”
Even so, she could not request he fail the challenge. Not with his own fate on the line. Besides, she couldn’t see a better pathforward, not when Widow Morton wanted to keep her father distracted. Baron had said breaking an Artifact sometimes rebounded the effect on the Caster, so Aria was going to break the infernal box and hope Morton hadn’t anticipated the success.
She’d tried telling her father the Artifact was a trap, but he’d claimed she was under Widow Morton’s thrall and would not listen to a word.
Aria gritted her teeth and grabbed her journal.
“This is not ... what I expected.” Hesitantly, Henry smiled. “I’m Henry. We haven’t even really met.”
“Lord Henry—”
“No ‘lord,’ please. I’ve always hated that. Six brothers and my father, and we’re all ‘lord.’ I’d like to be just Henry.”
“Very well, Henry. Let’s break a box.”
They spent all morning at it. By the time the call for lunch came, Aria’s arms ached, either from holding books or making attempts to smash, pry, or otherwise conquer the Artifact. She’d nodded off once, and Henry had continued working without her, drawing no attention to her embarrassment afterward.
They took lunch together in the smallest dining hall. The king was in council with his advisers; the queen was in her music room.
Eliza made an appearance just as the servants brought out plates. She looked pale, her expression clearly composed with great effort, but she asked quietly to join.
Henry lurched to his feet, ready to pull out her chair, but she’d already slipped into the one beside Aria.
