Chapter 38

16 days left

A ria woke with a small gasp, disoriented to find herself moving.

"I've got you," Baron murmured from behind her.

After a moment of paranoia, of quick breathing, she forced herself to relax again, tucking her head against his shoulder. His strong arms encircled hers, and against her back, she felt the steady, calming rhythm of his heartbeat. Her mind drifted back to their journey in the dark, to the moment she'd been so certain he was going to kiss her. He hadn't, yet he still held her like this. Aria had once joked with him in a letter about reading minds; she would have handed over the entire contents of the royal treasury to hold that power now, just to know why he'd pulled away.

They entered the Reeves estate. The path ahead led to the manor house, a simple, rectangular structure with warm shades of yellow and lattices of ivy. Flowerbeds and hedges lined both path and manor, everything bright and singing with life, a stark contrast to the winter left behind.

She smiled as she remembered his first letter. No, I don't favor yellow. How far they'd come since then.

To her left stretched Baron's personal orchard of lemon trees, lined in orderly rows stretching out of sight. Though the fruit had been harvested, the bright citrus still carried in the air, making Aria more alert through scent alone.

"It's still just as beautiful," she whispered. Perhaps more so, because this time she did not feel like a stranger visiting. Baron's letters had made his home as familiar to her as her own.

As soon as Baron dismounted, she missed his heat, her skin tingling at the loss. Even though the air itself carried an unseasonal warmth, it paled next to his. But he'd shifted into the role of estate lord, calling for a stablehand, ordering a guest room prepared, checking final preparations for the day's event. Aria contented herself to watch his staff. He'd mentioned how servants had feared him as a child, but things had clearly changed; every servant she watched spoke to him with affectionate respect and even love.

Upon entering the house, Aria was greeted by Auden Huxley, who protested that surely she was too busy to spend an entire day here, surely a royal heir had better things to do.

"Your concern is touching," she said, "but there is literally nowhere I'd rather be in the world than right here."

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, expecting to 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 the edge 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're incredible ."

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.

He cast a mysterious smile over his shoulder, then turned the corner out of sight.

Aria cradled her teacup, drinking deep of its scent and flavor, replaying every sensation of her lips against his cheek.

Then Corvin popped up in the doorway, breaking her reverie and asking if she was ready to go. Before leaving the room, she thought to check her reflection in the mirror.

And paused.

She looked like herself . Down a few pounds, perhaps, but the pale sickliness and the sallow cast to her face that she feared had become permanent had lifted. No longer a waning skeleton but a princess, one who seemed to have never met a curse. If only that could be true.

Aria tucked away the ever-present countdown in her mind. No doubt the cold of Northglen would reclaim her tomorrow, but she would take today, every blessed moment. For today, she set aside the worries about her curse, her kingdom, her sister, her future.

She turned to Corvin with a grin. "Show me everything ."

Time passed too quickly, and after the tour of the hamlet, Aria had to rush to be ready for the party on time. Mourning the absence of Jenny, she borrowed one of the maids, Amelia, to help with her hair and gown. Aria had commissioned a winter gown of blue silk overlaid with shimmering silver. White embroidery crossed her left shoulder, spilling onto the bodice in a flurry of delicate snowflakes. She realized now the gown was quite out of place in this pocket of the kingdom, where snow did not cull the lemons.

After fussing over details she couldn't change, Aria descended the stairs at last.

Baron had said the party would be spread over three rooms, which was apparently common for country estates. In one, guests could socialize at tables, even play cards if they desired. Another held food, and the ballroom, of course, provided for dancing.

But for now, a modest crowd had packed into the small entry room, awaiting a word from their host.

Huxley gave the welcome on behalf of the future lord baron, as was socially proper. Aria tried not to clench her teeth at the thought of Baron being silenced within his own home.

With a flourish, Huxley indicated her as the guest of honor, and then Martin gave her formal announcement, including every word of her very long title. Everyone stared at her, waiting.

They were waiting, she realized, for her to speak.

The quill in Aria's mind engaged itself with a flourish that put Huxley's to shame, reminding her of how dismally she'd performed when her father had allowed her to host Eliza's ball.

Her eyes found Baron's in the crowd, and she heard the memory of his voice. If it damages you, then it is something to be avoided as far as I'm concerned.

She locked the quill in a box.

"Friends." Aria smiled. "That's who I see here. Some I have yet to meet and some I am already familiar with. If you don't yet know me, you at least know Baron—Lord Guillaume. I thank him for opening his home to all of us."

She gestured in his direction, and he bowed in acknowledgment. He'd changed into a dark suit, and while he lacked his cane, he still wore his dress sword and his ever-present gloves.

"But I would personally like to thank him for something far greater."

She saw lords and ladies exchange glances. No doubt there were all kinds of rumors about why a Caster would hold the favor of a princess—Henry had confirmed it. Best to give them the truth, then.

"I have seen no greater example of loyalty to Loegria and the Crown than Lord Guillaume Reeves. For that, I hold the utmost gratitude."

She saw confusion on nearby faces, including Baron's. Funny that a man could be so insightful regarding others and so blind concerning himself.

"How many of us," Aria said, "could willingly be wounded and scarred as a child for no other reason than the demand of the Crown? Perhaps you've never thought of a witch's mark in those terms. It's not a punishment for a crime; there was no law broken. It is, instead, a requirement simply for existing, one no other free citizen of Loegria is required to bear. If enduring such a thing peaceably is not loyalty, I have never met loyalty.

"You are aware of my ... encounter with Widow Morton, but I am not the only one to have suffered because of it. Thanks to the actions of these few Casters in rebellion, His Majesty has ordered house arrest for all , and once again, Lord Guillaume abides the law despite his own innocence. Despite the unfairness. If such a thing is not loyalty, I have never met loyalty.

"Finally, in addition to the laws forged by royal authority, there are lesser laws in society—the laws of how we interact, how we treat each other. Although these laws favor the Caster as little as official ones, Lord Guillaume stands tall when disparaged, controls his temper when slighted."

Her eyes returned to Baron's, forgetting the rest of the crowd. "My father told me the late Baron Marcus Reeves was well-mannered, a noble example in how he managed his estate, and a man who could be trusted to work for the good of court rather than his own ambitions. I can say with certainty that Lord Guillaume exemplifies every attribute of his father, even after being unjustly denied his rightful seat as his father's heir. If such a thing is not loyalty, I have never met loyalty."

Baron ducked his head, and Aria became aware of the crowd again, of the silence in the room focused directly onto her. Perhaps she'd gone overboard. It was difficult to read some of the expressions or what thoughts she might have stirred.

The box holding her mental quill rattled, begging release.

"All of this to say"—Aria gave a quick wave—"if you haven't yet had the pleasure of a conversation with Lord Guillaume, I invite you to take the opportunity before this event is out. I can think of no one in the kingdom more worth learning from. Now, let's enjoy the celebration."

Applause rippled through the room, and Aria turned away to hide her flaming cheeks.

Overbearing speech. Mark.

She sighed at the quill's return, sly as a falcon tricking prey to run in the open.

She sought the food room first, hoping to find a tray of the lemon tarts Baron claimed as the ultimate comfort food.

Her mouth watered at the first bite, and she gave a silent compliment to Leon, which would no doubt be joined by a dozen more by the time she made her way down the table.

A few members of court sidled up to her, complimenting her gown, her speech, her glowing health, and a collection of other attributes. Aria gave a practiced smile and let her enjoyment rest in sampling the food while others talked; for some people, holding conversation in the presence of royalty was a matter of great importance, and if it made them happy, so be it. She wanted Baron's guests to remember the party as a pleasant one.

Just then, she spotted Baron entering the room, immediately drawn aside by a small crowd of his own. His hand brushed his dress sword once before slowly relaxing to his side. The tenseness of his shoulders eased, and he leaned in slightly to engage in the conversation.

A warm glow spread through Aria at the sight—though it may also have had something to do with the combination of lemon and chili in her iced cookie.

"Excuse me a moment, everyone." She stepped away, looking for a servant with drinks.

She saw, instead, Silas.

He'd entered the room with a girl on his arm who looked to be Eliza's age. She wore a bright pink gown and brighter smile while he carried an air of boredom, perhaps because there were neither bookshelves at hand nor people to accuse of rebellions.

"Lord Silas," Aria said as he approached. "I thought you remained at the castle."

The girl beside him gave a small gasp, whispering, "It really is the princess!"

Silas raised an eyebrow. "I remained long enough to quell any rumors I'd run away with you in the night. Then, after your absence was discovered, I volunteered my noble services to return you safely."

Aria winced. "The thought of rumors hadn't occurred to me when I invited you. I'm sorry."

"You are a reckless sort, it seems."

"I am trying to improve, but it remains ... difficult."

He nodded, then gestured to the girl. "May I present my sister, Margaret Bennett."

"Your gown is lovely!" Margaret burst out. "I so wish we had snow in this area."

"Come enjoy snow at the palace sometime. We have a wonderful hill for sledding. It's not dignified enough for a court event, but it's great fun with friends."

Usually, Aria went with Eliza. Her chest tightened at the thought, though she tried not to show it.

Margaret agreed, then turned as a trio of musicians began to play from the adjoining room. Without another word, she dragged Silas off to dance. Aria trailed, enjoying the music, drifting at the edge of the ballroom. The music was more upbeat than she was accustomed to, and as couples began to kick and spin, she realized it was not a dance she knew.

A short, stocky man stepped up next to her, and halfway through his bow, Aria felt a rush of panic. Then a voice spoke from behind him.

"Pardon me, Lord Roderick, but I have owed Princess Aria a dance for months now."

The unfamiliar lord stepped aside to reveal Baron, and whatever calm she initially felt at seeing him vanished as he took her hand and led her toward the quick-stepping chaos, where she would no doubt make a fool of herself.

"Baron," she whispered, "I've never seen this dance."

He squeezed her hand. "Things are often livelier outside the palace. It's three steps and a kick; all flash and no difficulty, I promise."

Then they were in the thick of it. Baron gripped both her hands, set her in an unfamiliar dance pose, and tugged her gently whichever direction she needed to go. Aria stumbled over her feet, then began to see the rhythm, with men and women facing each other for the steps and then angling away for each kick to avoid each other's shinbones. Her smile grew as she managed a few rotations correctly.

"You've mastered it," said Baron, his posture more relaxed than hers. Just as she finished a kick, he released one of her hands and spun her into a dip, then back up. She laughed.

"Thank you for the tea," she said. Without the gift of his magic, a lively dance would have been an impossibility. Instead, she felt energized, her steps high.

"Whatever you need, Aria."

He said it with such intensity, her heart kicked right along with her leg.

The music ended too soon, but when Baron moved to exit the dance floor, Aria held him back.

"What I need," she said quietly, "is to dance with you."

The intensity which had filled his voice now filled his eyes. Though the modest-sized ballroom was packed with people, it felt vast, filled with just the two of them and a sea of uncertainty. Up close, Aria could see that Baron's suit was not mourning-black, as it had been the first time they'd met, but rather a deep green, complementing his eyes. Perhaps that meant he was looking forward.

Perhaps he simply favored green. Aria bit her lip, holding back a smile.

"There's something else I need," she whispered, though she found herself blushing too deeply to say the single, final word caught in her throat: you.

She still held one of his hands. With far too much boldness, she pulled gently on the white glove, sliding it free of his fingers. He tensed, and she paused. When he didn't protest or move away, she claimed the second glove, sliding both into a pocket of her dress. His hands were beautiful—strong, smooth, and defined in the joints. His magic, his hands. Baron hid the most beautiful parts of himself from the world because that was what it demanded.

But there wasn't any part of him Aria feared.

She laced her bare fingers through his, sliding her thumbs across the smooth curves of his palms. She wondered if he could feel her heartbeat. From the way his breathing grew unsteady, he felt something .

As the music began anew, this time with a slower tempo, Baron kept one hand in hers and used the other to gently pull her closer. They glided across the floor, and she couldn't imagine how he safely navigated the other dancers when he never seemed to take his eyes off hers. That unruly lock of hair had fallen onto his forehead again, and this time, Aria reached up without hesitation to tuck it back, trailing her fingertips down the side of his face.

"Baron, I made a mistake," she confided. There was no quill for this, only a deep aching in her soul. "I told you not to answer my letter yet, but I'm losing my mind to the waiting."

The curse breathed down her neck with winter's chill, and while she held uncertainty about defeating it, she found she could not endure another unknown. If she was to die in a matter of days, she did not want to do so without tasting Baron's lips. Not if there was any chance he would let her. If there was any chance he felt the same yearning she did.

The music crested as Baron led her into an underarm turn. They'd drawn close to a wall, and Aria's outstretched fingers brushed the curtain as she turned; she saw a quick spin of the ballroom and everyone in it, lively, warm, engaged, the whole room glowing with the comfort of a world without cold. When she completed the spin, Baron stepped closer than before, bringing his lips right to the edge of her ear with a whisper.

"Come with me."

He grasped her hand and pulled her through a narrow doorway she'd not even noticed. It led to a cramped hallway, likely for servants to navigate between the kitchen and the entertaining rooms. It was empty except for the two of them. Afternoon sunlight spilled from a window slit in the outer wall.

With his free hand, Baron reached into his vest and pulled out a letter, folded and stamped with his seal. "My project from earlier. I thought I should deliver this one in person."