So she’d applied herself once more to curse-breaking.
“Lord Philip, thank you for meeting me.” Aria smiled, gesturing for him to join her beside the directory. Under her tired eyes, the lines had blurred into one tangle of black thread on the page. “I hope you might help me locate what I’m searching for.”
The man bowed deeply, posture relaxing. “Yes, of course, Your Highness. What is it you hope to find?”
“Any and all information on Clarissa Morton, if you please.”
Perhaps she should have started there all those days ago, but she’d seen Widow Morton only as a Caster, so she’d sought information on magic and Casters and curses, all while neglecting the woman behind the mark.
Philip tensed again as if she’d splashed him with cold water.“Surely Your Highness would prefer a study of more pleasant topics. What’s truly fascinating in these records—”
“If you’re worried I might somehow obtain untoward information, surely my father would prefer you supervise me than leave me alone with all thesefascinatingrecords, wouldn’t you agree?”
He shuffled over at last. After scanning his finger across the page, turning it, and scanning again, he came to a tapping stop. He glanced up as if she might have changed her mind.
Aria maintained her smile.
With a pained expression, the man settled his parchment on the table and fetched the ladder, climbing to the proper cabinet in order to extract a stack of documents tied within a leather casing. Then he returned.
“Let’s see ... ah, yes.” He thumbed the corners of pages, flipping through each one quickly, as if they were of no interest. “Family lineage, record of birth, Caster branding, marriage into court, bestowal of the title ‘countess,’ certificate of widowhood,removalof the title ‘countess.’ That’s all, Your Highness. As you see, nothing—”
“What of Charles Morton? His birth record.”
Beads of sweat appeared on Philip’s forehead. “That would, of course, be filed with the late earl, Jonathan Morton, since Charles was firstborn and heir. It’s only the daughter recorded with Clarissa.”
Aria blinked. “Daughter?”
Before he could protest, she snatched the pages from him. She found the birth record, marked by an unfamiliar name:Leticia Morton.
“Widow Morton has adaughter?” Aria gaped.
“Er, yes, Highness. Two children were born to the Morton family. To my understanding, the girl is unnoteworthy.”
His understanding was wrong.Herunderstanding had beenwrong, so very wrong, all this time. Aria’s pulse raced, pounding with newly discovered truth.
“No, Lord Philip,” she said softly. “She means everything.”
According to the date on the birth record, the girl would now be twelve years old.
“Get me Charles’s record. The whole family, actually. Now, please!”
Philip scurried back up the ladder to obey. Aria skimmed every document. Along with Charles’s birth and death certificates and his acknowledgement as heir to Lord Morton’s title and estate, there was one other record. His Casting test, which he’d passed with no evidence of magic.
Leticia had no such record. Her twelfth birthday had arrived only after Widow Morton removed herself into isolation.
“This is it,” Aria whispered. Just as quickly, though, she doubted herself. If the widow’s true motivation was to keep her daughter from being branded a Caster, why hadn’t she agreed to peace when Aria offered a compromise that removed branding?
“If I may, Highness ... what?”
Aria sighed. “Nothing, apparently. A false hope.”
She stacked the parchments neatly in order, allowing Philip to return them to the proper shelves. As she watched the man, her mind continued to churn.
“You were with my father when he killed Charles.”
Philip flinched. He closed the cabinet and dusted his gloves before descending the ladder carefully.
“Executed,” he said with the same amount of care. “Yes, I was in private council with the king on that ... unfortunate day.”
