Chapter 34

21 days left

A ria requested a meeting in the records room, and when her father's head adviser arrived, he clutched a sheaf of parchment to his chest as if to shield himself from the cursed princess.

For her part, Aria felt the same trepidation but for a different reason. She'd sent her most important letter ever to Baron, and she desperately needed a distraction from how he might respond. Or, more likely, might not.

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 these fascinating records, 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, removal of 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 a daughter ?" Aria gaped.

"Er, yes, Highness. Two children were born to the Morton family. To my understanding, the girl is unnoteworthy."

His understanding was wrong. Her understanding had been wrong, 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."

His extra emphasis on private did not go unnoticed.

Aria moved to speak again, then paused. Though not as stubborn as her father, Philip was loyal to him. She would have to tread cautiously.

The quill in her mind raised, anticipating any number of mistakes.

She clenched her jaw.

"Tell me of your family, Lord Philip," she said, as if seizing the reins of a carriage and driving it into the weeds. She winced.

Unable to employ subtle strategy. Mark.

Driving in weeds. Mark.

She sighed. Lord Philip didn't seem to notice; if anything, he seized the change of topic with vigor. He boasted about his father's service to the late queen and his grandfather's service before that. Aria began nodding off but roused herself to ask if he had a wife, and his face softened. He described a girl too obsessed with daisies, a girl he teased in early years only to see her bloom in later ones. They had a son half Aria's age.

"A good lad," Philip said, glowing more than any lamp in the records room. "A credit to us both."

Aria smiled, tired though it was. "And a lucky one, to have a father so proud."

Her shoulders drooped. The ache in her joints increased. Just as she was about to excuse herself to some couch, Philip spoke.

"What was your hope in this, Highness?" He gestured to the records, his face creased in a perplexed frown.

As always, her tongue forbade talk of curses. She worked her jaw for a moment, then said, "Loegria is blessed to be a kingdom at peace, yet we have created a war within our own borders. A conflict born of misunderstanding rather than justice. My hope is to end it peaceably."

Though that hope grew harder to grasp with each day closer to one hundred.

Philip's frown deepened. "Widow Morton is the only source of this conflict. She withdrew from court with aggression. She has antagonized the Crown."

"I ..." Aria faltered, glancing down at her shoes. "Are you skilled in embroidery?"

"I—no, I, er, it's not a skill I ..."

Oh, well done, Aria . She'd twisted him in knots, but she'd already started.

"Perhaps your wife is?"

Clearly confused why they were discussing needlecraft, he nodded.

"If I asked you to instruct me in a featherstitch, would you be able?"

"No, Your Highness."

"But your wife would."

He nodded once more.

"Lord Philip, instruction is best given from understanding. So, too, are laws. I fear the Crown has made too many decrees without understanding. I fear, if you will, that the kingdom is being taught featherstitches by a hand that has never held an embroidery needle, that finds the very idea of a needle fearful. How can such a hand create reliable stitches?"

It was the best she could do, the best substitute she could manage in place of My father isn't cursed. I am. He doesn't understand it. I do. He hasn't spent time around magic. I have.

Sometimes magic had a name like Baron or Corvin. And sometimes it had a name like Widow Morton. Without understanding such complex differences, how could anyone make laws to govern power with any measure of justice?

"This is my kingdom," she said with certainty, "and I will save it with a featherstitch."

Philip did not seem to understand her point. Instead, he gave her a look of mourning, like a physician come to announce a fatal diagnosis.

"Highness," he said gently. "Charles Morton was a threat to the safety of this kingdom, I can say that with certainty, and His Majesty's hand has indeed held a needle."

With a bow, he offered to escort her from the room. Aria felt the sting of his words long after leaving, the correction inherent within them. His words said she'd made a mistake. Again.

And soon after leaving, she received news from her father of another lord stepping up to take the Crown's challenge. Another man to see banished on her behalf. Lord Kendall had flown his chicken elbows back to the palace, squawking about how Aria's abandonment of him at last made sense, since it was performed under influence of magic. He proclaimed his intention to save her, and just like her father, he would not hear a word she said to the contrary.

Over the next three days, Aria watched him realize his mistake, watched her curse swallow another person in the wide swath of chaos as it crept ever closer to consuming Aria. Yet after two banishments, after clear futility in the challenge, her father was not satisfied.

The third challenger had already been arranged.