Chapter 13

72 days left

A ria split her life into days and nights. By night, she tested the limits of her curse. Could she sleep if she left the castle grounds? Could she speak of the curse at night? Could she recreate a tea with an effect like Baron's but using herbs instead of magic? The result of every test was disappointing.

Since Widow Morton had used Aria's blood for the curse, the princess had even tried an administration of leeches on her arm, hoping they might suck out whatever had been applied. Bloodletting was an outdated medical practice, rarely used by reasonable physicians, but she hoped perhaps Casters had discouraged the practice for their own secret purposes.

Like all the others, that experiment failed, leaving her with nothing but a sore arm and three fat, happy leeches.

Still, she persisted. Somewhere, new information would lead her to an answer, a weakness in the curse that would allow her to crack it open.

By day, she made certain not to repeat her worst mistake and obeyed her father with exactness.

Which meant she chose a suitor.

"He's perfect for you!" Eliza squealed.

Aria smiled, a more subdued response. As her sister skipped around the room, she held still, allowing Jenny, her lady's maid, to dress her in a fashionable but impractical gown with buttons Aria couldn't reach.

"Eliza," Aria said, "you've not even met Lord Kendall."

"No, but Ryelle Mormont claims he possesses the dreamiest eyes. ‘When he holds a maiden's gaze,' she says, ‘he captures their very soul.'"

"A man with a jar of souls beneath his bed. Every girl's dream."

Silently, Aria willed Jenny to hurry. As if sensing it, the maid finished buttoning Aria's bodice in record time and reached in to fasten her necklace. As she did so, their gazes met, and the younger girl paused, frowning.

"You look tired, Your Highness," she whispered.

When Jenny had first come to the castle—almost a year earlier—as a starving, barefoot girl of twelve, she'd refused to speak beyond single-word answers. Now she could be prompted into conversation, usually by Eliza, and though still thin, Jenny at least filled out her maid's shirt and trousers. She remained formal at all times and performed her duties diligently.

Aria found it easy to befriend any member of the castle's staff. So why did her voice sometimes die in her throat when addressing Jenny?

She knew the truth.

A truth her father forbade her to speak of.

Even Eliza did not know—because Eliza, along with the queen, had been on a visit to Patriamere when Jenny had first arrived at the castle, when the starving girl had looked into the eyes of a king and pled for mercy from a man she called " Father ."

Jenny was more than a maid. She was Aria's half sister.

"I'm fine," Aria whispered back.

Lying. Mark. A chill touched her skin, and she clenched her jaw to keep it from chattering until the invisible frost retreated.

"Back me up, Jenny," said Eliza.

Clearly she'd made some argument about true love that Aria had missed. Rather than repeating it, Jenny simply murmured that it wasn't her place, to which Eliza gave a good-natured harrumph. Then she ducked into her adjoining room, returning with a bundle of fabric weighing down her arms.

Technically, Aria didn't require a chaperone to meet with a suitor—it was an outdated requirement, as were arranged marriages or year-long engagements—but she was counting on Eliza to carry most of the conversation because her own attention would be focused solely on lasting at least half an hour without sleeping in front of her new suitor.

After completing the final touches on Aria's ensemble, Jenny transitioned to readying Eliza, and Aria sat at her writing desk, her mind wandering where it always did these days.

To a certain green-eyed former baron.

Guillaume Reeves had made no attempt to contact her since their single encounter at Eliza's ball. That night, she'd spent her waking hours prowling the empty halls, dreading the moment when a trap would be sprung on her just as it had been the night she'd returned from Morton Manor.

But nothing happened. Baron's single cup of miracle tea truly seemed to come with no strings attached: no surprise curse, no attempt at blackmail, no ill side effects—at least none beyond the unfortunate fact that it did not last forever.

What was she to make of that?

"Aria?"

Aria shot to her feet, banging her hip painfully into the corner of her desk. She pressed one hand to it, grimacing. Eliza and Jenny both stared.

"Daydreaming about my dreamy-eyed suitor. Are you ready at last, Eliza? It won't do to keep Lord Kendall waiting."

"Yes, yes, I'm ready. Although, the periwinkle dress may have—"

Aria strode toward the door, and Eliza scrambled to catch up. Together, the two of them went to meet the man Aria was determined to court.

Lord Kendall waited in the music room. He had presented himself to the king that morning, so Aria's father was nowhere to be seen, although her mother sat at the harp and urged them to "pay her no mind." As if a queen could be so easily ignored.

Queen Marian practically lived in the music room; the only thing missing was her wardrobe. She'd already had the servants bring her a couch for relaxing and a writing desk for composing. There was even a small table to use when taking her meals. She didn't go about in her dressing gown, thankfully, but she wore a casual set of trousers beneath a ruffled shirt without even a vest over the top.

Lord Kendall stole enough furrowed-brow glances at Her Majesty to make his discomfort at the situation clear.

One of the attendant guards made the formal announcement: Kendall Crampton, second son of Duke Robert Crampton, with hope to court Her Royal Highness, Crown Princess Aria de Loegria, daughter of His Royal Majesty ...

The long introduction gave Aria the opportunity to study her chosen suitor. She'd surely crossed paths with him at court functions before; there was a familiarity to his lanky build and awkward elbows, which extended like the wings of a flustered chicken.

Unflattering comparisons. Mark.

"Your Royal Highness!" Despite his chicken elbows, Lord Kendall swept an elegant bow, turning to offer the same gesture to Eliza, which she answered with an equally elegant curtsy.

Aria—her legs aching and her fatigue bordering on comatose—gave a dip well beneath the dignity of any crown princess.

She saw her mother frown from the corner.

Eliza spoke at once, gushing about how wonderful it was to host Lord Kendall and how he would not be disappointed by Aria. Aria gave an inward wince at the implications there, but at least Eliza dominated the conversation as she'd hoped. It was a good five minutes before Kendall snuck in a word to Aria.

"Might I serenade you, Your Highness?" he gestured to the nearby harpsichord. "My musicality is quite boasted of across our estate."

" Ooh ." Eliza beamed. "A musician . It's said only the tenderest of hearts can speak music."

Said only by their mother, who smiled as Eliza spoke.

The queen offered to accompany Lord Kendall, which set the room in motion as servants arranged chairs and instruments so the queen and lord could take their respective places.

Aria couldn't think of an appropriate protest.

I don't wish to hear you play. That would be beyond rude.

I would prefer an activity in the fresh air. Selfish.

I am under a curse and would trade this entire castle for a single night's sleep.

Well, she could not say that .

Finally, Aria took her place as an audience member beside an enthusiastic Eliza, who leaned close to bump their arms together.

"How do you find his eyes?" Aria whispered.

Eliza closed her own eyes, fanning herself with one hand.

Perhaps in addition to stealing her sleep, Aria's curse had also rendered her blind to dreaminess. In her estimation, Kendall's eyes seemed an ordinary hazel, not unflattering, but simply ... murky.

In comparison, Aria's mind offered her a memory of striking green eyes. Tawny hair. An extended cup of tea, and a hesitant, gentle voice. Something to ease your tiredness.

Had he known of her curse or was he only observant? Was it all somehow a trap?

Or was it simply ... kindness from a Caster?

Lord Kendall's performance began, a soothing, syrupy melody that could only be meant for hushing colicky babies. The queen's harp crooned along in alluring harmony, never a sour note to jar the performance.

Aria stood no chance.

Eliza poked her in the side, and Aria woke, sitting rigid as sweat broke out across her skin.

"What is wrong with you?" her sister demanded in a whisper. At least the performers didn't seem to have noticed.

"It's a lullaby ," Aria protested weakly.

"Do you also drop into slumber in the mere presence of a pillow?"

Heat spread not only through Aria's cheeks but through her ears and neck, hardly the demure blush of a princess. How long before everyone thought her incompetent, unable to perform the simplest of duties? How long before she truly would be unable to perform the simplest of duties? She'd chosen a suitor, but if she returned to Upper Court meetings only to sleep through them ...

Kendall smiled as he continued to play his never-ending lullaby, gently caressing the harpsichord keys with long, thin fingers. Aria had the very unkind thought to break them off one by one, for which she gave herself two marks.

She swirled her ankles, hidden beneath the length of her gown. She dug her thumbnail into her opposite palm with such force she felt the bone beneath. She imagined a full retinue of tiny sailors perched on her head, harpooning her eyelids and dragging back with all their might to hold them open, shouting encouragements to the entire crew. Come on, lads, just a little longer! Hold!

Kendall finished with a lingering three-note rise, and before the final note faded, Aria lurched to her feet, applauding with force not because he deserved it but because she did.

He grinned, clearly pleased with her reaction. "Your Highness, I'm fla—"

"A marvelous gift!" she declared over the top of him. "Simply stunning. Lord Kendall, I cannot wait to see your further talents in action. Let us make our courtship official."

His chicken elbows flapped around in shock, and she took that as agreement.

"Wonderful! You can discuss it with my mother." How kind of the queen to be so helpfully available. "I am overwhelmed by the performance. I shall return."

She fled the room, not caring how it might look. It would look worse to simply collapse across the floor.

Which was exactly what she did upon reaching the washroom. The instant she bolted the door, Aria slumped to the ground. The fur rug beneath her seemed to be the softest bed invented.

Failure. Mark.

It was not precisely a mistake, more a state of being, one she had been unable to escape for nearly a month. What would her father have said, witnessing the heir to his kingdom abandoning her duty and succumbing to such a little obstacle as fatigue ?

Through his political union with Queen Marian, her father had secured resources from Patriamere and revitalized all of Loegria after famine. By contrast, after finding decisions too difficult, Aria had chosen an eligible name at random and landed herself with Lord Kendall.

While she had always tried so hard to mirror her father's effectiveness, she found herself instead modeling her mother's laxness. In the same way her mother chased music with single-minded devotion, even to the point of ignoring her family, Aria now abandoned everything in pursuit of rest.

Perhaps it was better she not take the throne; she would only fall asleep on it.

Somewhere near the half hour mark, Aria's senses betrayed her, screaming danger where there was none, shoving her to her feet and leaving her disoriented. When she exited the washroom, she plowed right into Jenny.

"Oh!" the smaller girl squeaked. Recovering, she hurriedly gave a formal bow. "Your Highness, I'll be off now. With permission."

Aria had angled herself away in embarrassment. "Of course. You ..." She hesitated. Struggling to focus, she took in Jenny's clothes—not her usual maid's uniform. Sturdier. For travel. "You're going somewhere?"

"We discussed ..." Jenny's voice faded, as did some of the color in her face.

"It's not a problem." Aria tried for a reassuring smile, though it was surely half grimace. She willed her senses to function. "I've simply been busy. Tell me again?"

"Harper's Glade. My mother . . ."

Her mother's grave. It was the anniversary, wasn't it?

At once, Aria felt like a heel. "Oh, Jenny. I'm sorry. I meant to arrange a carriage for you. And travel supplies. Do you have money for an inn? I can provide an advance payment on your wages—"

She was rambling, but the corner of Jenny's lips twitched upward, and that was an encouraging response.

"It's only past Stonewall," was all the girl said. She bowed again. "Your Highness."

"Wait." Aria's mind raced for a different reason. "Stonewall, that's ... near the Reeves estate, isn't it?"

Jenny blinked. The girl couldn't be expected to know where every lord and lady in the kingdom held their estate. But Aria knew. If only her foggy mind would tell her what it expected her to do with that knowledge.

"Jenny, would you ..." Aria swallowed, considered, then dedicated herself. "Would you be open to a traveling companion?"