“She’s a literary expert now.” Silas snapped his book closed, then plucked hers from her hands. “So this is the trick. A little feigned interest in hobbies, a touch of seduction, perhaps, and you have the kingdom’s strongest Caster wrapped around your finger.”
Aria’s tired mind scrambled to follow. “Widow Morton? I have no—”
“Guillaume Reeves is the strongest Caster this, or any, kingdom has ever had. The best another could do is match him, not surpass him.”
Aria frowned. He’d told her himself that he wasn’t strong enough to break her curse.
“Two years in university study, Highness—can you guess my research field? It isn’t offered here.” Silas closed the epic in his hands, then popped it back open to a specific page, as if he had the entire thing memorized. “Warlockry.”
He displayed the illustration of Einar battling the three tempest warlocks. The warlocks had horrid faces of protruding eyes and jagged teeth, together bearing down with beams of light against the hero’s fracturing shield.
“They let you study magic at university?” She ought to have been attending classes in Pravusat the last eighty-three days.
He ignored her question. “Magic is dependent on instinct, and instinct is unlearned by experience, maturity, and reasoning. Therefore, the younger a magic user’s age when activated, the stronger those powers can manifest. Simple math. Which is why Gilly Reeves is the strongest Caster ever known.”
Aria stared with wide eyes. She’d realized Baron’s activation of his power at birth was unheard of, but Silas applied a greater meaning to it than she’d imagined. “I had no idea.”
“Doubtful, but irrelevant. For several months now, Crown Princess Aria has been presented with the best suitors Loegria has to offer. Men of rank, handsome features, and societal favor, yet she has turned her attention to a man whose rank was stripped, whose features aren’t, shall we say, commonly handsome, thanks to a mixed heritage, and who not only lacks society’s favor but actively attracts its scorn.” He raised both eyebrows. “There’s a gap in the logic, princess.”
Aria bristled. “Perhaps because love does not bow to logic.”
“Love”—the wrinkle of Silas’s nose couldn’t be clearer—“is an excuse people give to justify their actions. Gilly’s actions and excuses, I understand. Yours remain to be seen. You want to break a curse, I’ve been told. Perhaps. But I find it interesting that no one has considered the obvious alternative.”
“And what is that, Lord Silas?”
“That there is no curse, only a conspiracy. That the crown princess is in league with rebel Casters to overthrow the king. When the strongest Caster continued to resist the movement, you reverted to more subtle methods of recruitment.”
The accusation swept back Aria’s fatigue in a cold wash of shock. She leapt to her feet, gaping at him. “I—you—I amalreadythe heir. What could I gain by your imagined plot?”
“Waiting heirs are often perpetrators of revolution, especiallybecause they easily rally followers. Perhaps you lack patience to await your father’s death or abdication, or perhaps you seek to avoid a disinheriting.”
Aria had been under siege already, but now the assault had moved within her own walls. She felt defenses rising within her, the heat begging to be released in darts of insult against this enemy who had dared present as a friend.
But she pressed her tongue between her teeth.
Baron trusts him.
Aria had made countless mistakes in her life, and she was beginning to realize such a thing was unavoidable. Perhaps she should have spent more energy ensuring that if she was going to make mistakes, she did not make them in the areas that mattered most.
On the Illusion Isles, Einar believed the illusion which showed his wife’s betrayal, and based on that belief, he made the worst mistake of his life by killing her. A mistake he journeyed through three heavenly realms to undo.
Aria sat beside Silas and looked him in the eyes.
“I wish to protect Baron because I love him. That might not mean anything to you, but it does to me, and I think you want to protect him too.”
She held his gaze.
And waited.
In the end, his response was an inarticulate grunt. After retrieving his original book, he settled back into his reading nook, though his brow remained furrowed.
Aria smiled slightly. When she stood, the wobble in her knees was at least partly from relief rather than weariness. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”
“Gilly’s party is tomorrow,” he said without looking up. “I’ve been told you’re the guest of honor. I’ve also been told you’re under house arrest.”
“My intention was to leave the castle tonight. Should you wish to accompany me, you’ll want to be in Sutton before night falls. I’ll meet you there, outside the inn.”
After speaking, she realized the sleeping Cast wouldn’t affect him, so the time did not matter, but she couldn’t explain details of her curse, so she let it be.
