It’s freedom.
Silas
“I’d hoped he might be home by now,” said Baron.
Margaret’s expression drooped again. “I’d hoped as well. At least by my birthday.”
Though the silence tempted Baron to slip away, he hesitated. Margaret did look lovely, her pink gown a complement to her easy blush, and she was the only person who’d been welcoming all evening. Surely he could stay a little longer.
Baron smiled. “While I’m no substitute for Silas, I’d be honored to share a dance with the lady of the evening.”
Her own smile blossoming, Margaret reached for his extended hand—
Only for her father to catch her wrist.
“She’s not dancing with a Caster,” Lord Bennett said. “Not with this Morton business. It would taint her image.”
The brand on Baron’s neck—hanging exposed above his collar—seemed to burn as hot as the day he’d received it. After the branding law had been implemented generations earlier, Loegria’s fashion standards had changed to accommodate it; no more high necklines for either men or women. No opportunity for a Caster to hide. A witch’s mark remained visible at all times, an announcement to the polite men and women of society concerning the deadly magic user in their midst.
With the brand, Baron was permitted to practice magic if it caused no harm. Butpermissionwas nottrust.
One might wonder, he thought,why I even received an invitation.
But, of course, Lord Bennett’s strict enforcement of socialhierarchies would not allow him to slight a member of court by lack of invitation. Caster or not, Baron was a titled lord until the king himself said otherwise.
Which was exactly why Baron could not allow the king to say otherwise. He’d promised his father to serve as a voice in the court representing those like himself who grew more threatened and misunderstood each day.
“I see,” said Baron softly.
Margaret’s face flushed as she looked down, tucking her arms against her middle. She’d never possessed the fortitude to stand against her father. That was her brother’s prerogative—and the reason he’d been exiled to study abroad.
“Happy birthday to you, Miss Margaret.”
After a bow, Baron retreated into the crowd. At least he was not overtaken by a swarm this time. Most of the wasps had flown onto the ballroom floor or migrated to the edges of the room, burrowing into cakes and finger pastries.
Time to leave, then. Yet as he craned to look for the twins, a new figure intercepted him—Lady Bennett in all her hostess glory, layered skirts flouncing with every movement. “Lord Reeves! Enjoying the evening?”
Before he could respond, a maid rushed up.
“My lady!” The girl’s wide, terrified eyes knotted Baron’s insides, reminding him of another servant and the wrenching words,Your father’s collapsed. Come quickly!
“It’s your grandmother’s vase,” the maid cried. “It’s been shattered!”
Thatdistressed him for a different reason. If something had been broken, he was certain he knew the culprit.
Two culprits, to be precise. Both surnamed Reeves.
The twins had gotten into a fight, lost track of theirsurroundings, and knocked the family heirloom from its shelf. Though they’d wandered from the main party into the annex, there were still plenty of people gathered to witness the drama.
Lady Bennett wailed, clutching her heart like it had shattered along with the vase. Between her sobs came the story of how the vase had been a wedding gift to her grandmother from Duke Something himself, one of a kind, irreplaceable, invaluable, imported, a piece of history, her most prized possession.
Baron wanted to melt into the floor. As a Fluid Caster, he might have been capable. Just drip through the floorboards and never be seen again. Tempting.
Instead, he stepped in front of Leon and Corvin, offering profuse apologies on their behalf.
“This behavior reflects on you, Reeves!” Lady Bennett wailed. “I raised two children in this house, and they never so much as cracked a saucer!”
Leon bristled. “Hey, Baron isn’t—!”
