Baron squinted, rubbing away the faint throb.
“That’s what I think of that.” Corvin smirked as if he’d been wickedly clever.
Baron resisted an eye roll. At least it was comforting to see the boy shed some of that disconcerting maturity.
22 days left
Following Henry’s banishment, Eliza kept her door locked tight for three days. Jenny brought her meals; Aria spoke to silence through the door. The two of them fretted together.
“I wish I knew the right words,” Aria whispered, sitting with Jenny, both of their backs pressed against the door connecting the two rooms.
Sighing, Aria pulled the tiara from her hair, tossing it to the floor. She dropped her head in her hands, fingers buried in her black hair. Exhaustion dragged on every bone, trying to suck her down to meld with the floor, urging her to stop trying to do hard things when she could just let go and sink.
“I care,” said Jenny softly. When Aria looked up, the girl wet her lips, then repeated, “I care. I’m right here. I’ll stay—I think those are the words that matter during grief.”
“No one said them to you.” Shame rose within Aria, coloring her face. “After your mother’s death. I wouldn’t even visit the grave when you asked.”
Looking away, Jenny said, “I know it’s ... uncomfortable. She’s my mother. For you, she’s ...”
“It doesn’t matter what she is.” Aria groaned inwardly at the sound of that, but she pushed forward. “I mean what matters isyou. I care about you. I don’t know if I’ve ever said that. I knowI’ve been awkward and distant and ... Eliza is much better at treating you like a sister. Like you deserve.”
Jenny blushed. She pulled her knees up beneath her chin.
Haltingly, she said, “When Father ... the king ... wanted me to go ... you gave me a place.”
Aria winced. “As a servant.”
Aria had never seen her father as terrified as he’d been the morning Jenny came to the castle, like he was staring at his own ghost come to greet him rather than at a starving, helpless girl. It had been the first time Aria had ever defied him, because when he’d ordered Jenny to leave, she couldn’t bear the thought of the frail girl orphaned on the streets. It wasn’t fair for Aria and Eliza to have a castle while Jenny had no home at all. It wasn’t fair forJennyto be punished.
She’d begged for Jenny to stay. Her tears had accomplished nothing until she’d thought of one offer.She’ll be my maid. I’m allowed to choose my servants, and she’ll just be an orphan I took pity on. No one will think twice.
Though his face still bore a deathly cast, the king relented, but only after ordering them both to tell no one the truth and never speak of the matter again.
“I like my place here,” Jenny whispered. “I like being with Eliza. And you.”
The evening deepened into night, and though Aria tried again to call through the door, Eliza gave no answer. At last, she stood, meaning to escort Jenny back to the servants’ quarters so the girl wouldn’t fall asleep against a door when the Cast came on. It was creeping earlier with time—while the guards used to fall asleep at midnight, it now happened mere hours after sunset.
Then something lurched inside, like a tablecloth pulled free with all its weight of dishes, revealing a strong, sturdy table beneath; Aria’s weight of tiredness evaporated, leaving behind a frenzied energy.
“Your Highness?” Jenny asked.
“No,” Aria whispered, staring at Jenny. “No, no, no.”
She leapt toward her own door and threw it open. Looking down the hall, she saw slumped figures.
“No,” Aria moaned, looking back at Jenny. “Not you too.”
Jenny blinked with wide eyes.
All three sisters. The king’s descendants, all claimed now. Did Eliza not answer because she was grieving Henry or had she fallen comatose already, as the widow had said would happen?
“Wait here,” Aria told Jenny. She would explain things to the girl in a minute.
With the energy of her dark wakefulness, Aria searched out a key to Eliza’s room, then barged in, expecting to find her sister collapsed on the floor or worse.
Instead, she found the bedroom deserted, the wardrobe in disarray.
And a letter on the pillow.
