Over the man’s shoulder, she smiled at Baron, who returned the expression.
Corvin dashed out to greet her, though she saw no sign of Leon. Rather than offering a bow, the boy grabbed her in a hug, chattering something about his falcons that she didn’t entirely catch. She gave him a squeeze before releasing.
Mr. Huxley looked away from the display, perhaps searching the ground for an open grave, either to bury himself or Corvin.
“Yes, Corvin.” Aria laughed. “I’d love to see the falcons.”
“Let Her Highness get settled first,” Baron said sternly.
She did so at once, following a servant to her guest room and thanking the woman for bringing in her satchel. Aria had shed her riding cloak and gloves—tossing them across the back of a chair—when a knock came at the door. She opened it, expectingto find an impatient crow-boy, but she found Baron holding a silver tea tray.
“Corvin will drain your energy the moment you give him the chance,” he said, “if the journey didn’t do so already. I thought, perhaps ...”
She practically melted against the doorframe. “Yes,please.”
With a smile, he entered, setting the tray on a small table between two chairs. The tea he poured for her looked normal—the rich pink of raspberry—but when he slid one finger along the cup’s rim, the liquid glowed with a sheen of captured sunlight. Once the light departed, the raspberry tea remained but the steam carried a stronger scent, like fresh-cut cedar, heady and thrilling.
Baron turned, half-smiling as he caught her hanging over his arm to view the magic. His gloved fingers brushed her arm as he pulled back from the tray, shooting awareness through her. Perhaps Aria should have stepped back to give him space, but she found herself rooted, unwilling to widen the distance between them. Instead, she yearned to reach for him, to rest a hand on his chest simply to feel his heartbeat.
So she did. He didn’t move away.
“It’s incredible,” she breathed, glancing from the pink tea to his green eyes.
“Not frightening?” He reached up and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. She’d not had time to freshen up from traveling, but she was not about to walk away from him now.
In daylight, she studied all the wonders of him that night had concealed. His half smile brought out the dimple in his right cheek, and faint signs of stubble contoured his jawline. Curiosity, rather than severity, defined the curve of his eyebrows, as if he were always pondering a question but hesitant to ask it.
Aria lifted her hand from his chest to trace her finger along theedge of his jaw, then down onto his witch’s mark, following the gentle curves all the way to his collarbone. She hooked her finger slightly under his collar. “No. Not frightening. Incredible.”
His eyes held steady on hers, and when he spoke, his voice had grown husky. “Dangerous though, by nature. I can’t escape that. Someone pointed out to me that every sword ever forged is dangerous.”
“Yet have you ever been shunned for carrying your sword? Danger is an intent, not a capacity. You’re not dangerous, Baron. You’reincredible.”
Then Aria did something reckless—she leaned forward and kissed his cheek.
It was a mistake. All night, she had managed to keep her emotions in check, but now that she had felt his skin beneath her lips, she knew she wanted more of him, not less.
The scent of him was even more intoxicating than that of the tea. He smelled like lemons and fresh air, like the soul of his beautiful estate captured in a person. And up close, his green eyes were more enchanting than any magic. She hesitated, her face a breath from his, wondering if she dared move closer.
She shouldn’t. She’d given him the truth of her feelings but also the freedom of choice. The next move, if it came, should be his.
With an inward whimper and as much willpower as it took to resist sleep, she forced herself to pull back. Her trembling legs threatened to collapse beneath her, and though Baron would certainly catch her, it would be undignified, so she reached for the teacup and took a confident sip. The tea’s rich spices excited her mind as much as her tongue, easing the burden of weariness from every limb and leaving her tingling with a renewal of self. She felt the warmth of energy pulsing through her center, carried in every beat of her heart.
Or perhaps that was the man behind it, watching her every movement with an unreadable mind.
“I see I’ve done it again.” Baron’s lips twitched, and he reached out to brush one gloved thumb across her cheek, wiping away the tear that had leaked at her sudden relief.
Aria blinked. “Perhaps I simply appreciate the deep notes of a tea the way my mother appreciates the deep notes of a symphony.”
“I’ll leave the pot, then.”
To her dismay, he headed for the door.
“Aren’t we seeing the falcons?” she asked.
“I trust Corvin to keep you safe between here and the hamlet, and I promise to meet you there, but I would be remiss to leave one particular project unfinished.”
“Project?” Aria’s brow furrowed.
