Chapter 35

B aron hadn't heard from Aria after Corvin's transformation, but when a letter finally arrived, he left the poor falcon sitting on his window ledge far too long while he stood paralyzed, imagining every possibility contained in the parchment. Perhaps she would try to persuade him of Corvin's dangerousness, perhaps she would express her regrets at what had to be done according to the law, perhaps she would keep the boy's secret but no longer associate with such a family.

Or perhaps the dream would continue. He felt a fool to even hope it, but it gripped him in every limb, moving him forward to claim the letter at last. The falcon glided smoothly away.

Corvin looked at him from the desk with a nervous excitement.

"Another acceptance to your party, no doubt," Huxley grumbled.

"Actually, this is from Her Highness, and she's already made her acceptance." Baron enjoyed the moment of stiff panic on Huxley's face. But as soon as he exited the room, his heart clenched in his chest just as his hand clenched around the letter.

Closing himself in his bedroom, he sat in a chair and unrolled the parchment with more fear than hope.

My Dear Baron, it started, and his spirit managed to both leap and shrink in the same instant.

A hundred thoughts I wish I could pen. I would tell you all you've done for me, all you mean to me. But I could write a dozen letters and never say the half of it, so know at least these three things:

I will never do anything to put your brothers in danger.

I will repeal the laws against magic or perish in the attempt.

I love you.

Baron's breath caught. For several moments, his eyes couldn't make it past that one line, written with all of Aria's charming loops, written without pause or the faintest smudge of ink, written with confidence. The words echoed in his soul. The longer he stared, the more they carved themselves into memory, they more they replaced the fear.

Of all the things he'd expected, it hadn't been that.

Finally, he forced himself to read the end:

I wanted you to have no doubt, to have it from my hand. I admit that my first interest in you was of a selfish nature, yet before our first meeting ended, you had impressed me with your own selflessness. You impress me still. With you, I can be myself. No, it is more than that—with you, I see the self I want to be. I have written too many "selfs" now. Forgive me.

A smile grew on his face. He felt the ridiculous urge to curl around the letter, to protect it—and the girl behind it—from the world.

My hope in telling you is not for a matched response or to inspire a sense of obligation. I only feel that you have always been truthful with me, and you deserve truth in return. Here is the whole of it:

If I could have my choice, that future day when I rule would be one with you at my side.

If I could have my choice, you would be at my side forever.

But it's not my choice; it's yours, too. If your answer is no, I respect and understand completely. Regardless of answer, please don't give it until my ... situation is resolved. Much as I wish otherwise, my promises are empty until then.

With all my heart, Aria

For a long while, Baron stared at the parchment, tracing and retracing the words in his mind. She'd spared him the need for an immediate response, and he urged himself to consider the situation in its entirety.

Regardless of his feelings, he couldn't break her curse. Even she admitted there was no point to any of it without that.

Baron passed the next few days in a haze, his mind tangled in a curse, his heart tangled in a letter. At times, he made progress with his Casting, the magic coming as easily as it had in the days before his father's death. At times, it eluded him, leaving him staring at a useless cup of water until he left the kitchen.

And every day, he reread Aria's letter, trying to understand how to navigate something that was both dream and nightmare combined.

A knock came at Baron's bedroom door, startling him upright in his chair. He hastily rolled Aria's letter, sliding it into his vest pocket beside his heart, where he'd kept it since its arrival.

"My lord," said Martin with a bow. "Corvin is readying for Lord Bennett's dinner party."

Baron thanked the man, then slipped down the hallway to Corvin's room. The upcoming dinner was a simple affair meant to welcome home Silas, though his parents had certainly dragged their feet in acknowledging he even was home.

Normally, Baron would have been the only one invited, but he was now an untitled Caster under house arrest, and no matter his personal connection to Silas, the invitation went, as socially proper, to the future lord baron. Huxley had snuck it right past Baron, accepting on Corvin's behalf when Baron would have rejected. Now the boy would have to go alone to a party hosted by a man who'd tried to kill the last Affiliate he'd discovered in his home.

So it made sense Corvin was struggling with the buttons of his jacket.

"Lord Bennett hates the new trade agreements with Pravusat," Baron said. "If you get cornered, simply mention them, and he'll do all the talking. He might even forget you're there."

"As long as I don't sprout feathers," Corvin muttered. "That's hard to forget."

"If the worst really happens, Silas will have a window open for you. Just get out, and we'll make our decisions from there."

Corvin fumbled the last button, then finally forced it in place. "You talked to him about tonight?"

"He came by the training yard again yesterday."

"I thought he didn't even like me. He never talks to me when he's here."

"I believe he's scared of you."

"What, really?" Corvin looked up, eyes wide.

Baron shrugged. "Not really, but the idea that birds eat snakes has been mentioned a few times."

"Heh. I don't think even Leon could make Silas taste good."

The joke had helped the boy relax, allowing him to pull on his gloves easily. He turned, craning his neck to survey himself in his new suit, which, despite being tailored, looked constricting.

"Looks better on you," Corvin said quietly.

"You're going to be fine," Baron said, resting a hand on Corvin's shoulder. "Not just tonight. Through all of it."

Whether he believed it or not, Corvin nodded. Baron walked him to the carriage, lingered as long as he possibly could, and then paced all night, unable to focus on anything else. Leon brought him a cheese tart and told him to stop wearing grooves in the floor.

Finally, after dark, the carriage returned. Mr. Huxley hobbled through the door first, and his satisfied expression was not that of a steward discovering a shapeshifter in his charge. Corvin followed a step behind, unharmed and in one piece, allowing Baron to truly breathe.

At least until Corvin met his eyes.

"What happened?" Baron asked.

The boy's expression fell. "Silas wasn't there."

Huxley took over, describing a perfect dinner event and praising Lord Bennett as the sort of nobleman every lord should aspire to be.

"If I had one criticism," he said, "it would be the bait and switch of it all. The invitation claimed to be a welcoming party for the heir's return, but Lord Bennett announced that his son is at the palace, challenging for the hand of the crown princess."

Baron suddenly understood Corvin's expression, and his stomach sank.

Silas had been convinced his father would try to marry him off immediately, and Baron should have realized the man would take the most prestigious option available. In three days, Silas would be gone again, after he'd barely been home a week.

And this time, he would be exiled forever.