Epilogue

One Month Later

T he letter arrived by standard post rather than by falcon, and it seemed a waste not only of post but of good parchment—three scrawny lines isolated in a sea of blank space. All the same, Aria smiled when she read it.

Your sister's safe.

I heard about your revolution and would just like to say: I knew it.

Silas

"Not one to gloat, is he?" She passed the letter to Baron, who sat beside her on the garden bench.

He gave a low whistle, his breath puffing in the winter air. "Over a dozen words. He truly couldn't resist."

Aria wished the news were stronger—that Eliza was on her way home, or that she was at least sending a full letter of her own—but she accepted the relief of some certainty. There had been precious little of it in recent days.

She tucked the letter away to protect it from the falling snowflakes. Baron wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and she snuggled into his woolen coat. From another part of the garden, she heard playful shouts and at least one instance of"you skinny chicken!"

The surgeon had finally declared Corvin's leg healed enough to endure light exercise—though the boy required a cane for support—and he hadn't wasted a moment.

"I see Corvin's studying hard," Aria said.

Baron nodded, his cheek rubbing against her hair. "This new steward is frightfully lax compared to the last; the boy may never receive a proper day of education."

"Oh, I imagine he'll learn by example. This steward is the best baron I know."

Her first choice would have been to restore Baron's title, but he'd suggested taking the stewardship instead. After all, it wouldn't be long before he married the queen, and then Corvin would bear the Reeves title anyway.

Queen . Aria still struggled beneath her own title. The girl who'd worked so hard to prove herself worthy of it seemed like a different person to her now, na?ve and uncomprehending of the burden she asked for. But she'd been told by Lord Philip that a little humility did a ruler good. At the very least, everyone seemed willing to be gracious as she grew into the position.

"Your Majesty," said a quiet voice behind her.

Aria grimaced at the term of address, but by the time she turned, her expression was pleasant. Margaret Bennett stood on the stone path, her palm extended to catch snowflakes. She dropped it quickly.

"You asked me to fetch you ten minutes before the meeting with your advisers," Maggie said apologetically.

Your advisers. Your Majesty. Each time she heard herself given possession of things that had always been her father's, something inside her shrank.

"I fear I made a mistake," Aria confided to Baron, "thinking I could manage a kingdom."

Baron squeezed her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. "You didn't."

She'd once thought to find a suitor who balanced her recklessness, but she'd never imagined one who reaffirmed her choices, soothed her fears, and stood beside her through every imaginable danger. It was not her fault; how could anyone predict meeting someone as perfect as Baron?

He winced, pressing his fingers to his forehead.

"Headache again?" Aria asked, and when he nodded, she wrapped her arms around him in a comforting hug.

Between healing Corvin and saving Aria, Baron suffered frequent headaches as a side effect of overexerting his Casting. They'd grown less frequent as weeks passed, so Aria continued to hope the effect would vanish altogether, though Baron didn't seem as concerned about it as she was.

For her part, Aria had trouble falling asleep some nights or found herself waking well before dawn. Some days, she could not shake the echo of fatigue. But for those days and nights, she kept a bottle of Baron's wine nearby, and she counted herself lucky that whenever she was falling, he had the strength and willingness to catch her.

Baron stood, and Aria clung to his hand, unwilling to part so soon. He looped one arm through hers as he walked her down the path to the castle. Maggie trailed at a distance, offering them privacy, or perhaps only distracted by snowflakes. Though Maggie could never fill the gap left by Eliza, Aria found she liked the girl's quiet enthusiasm, and she was kind to Jenny.

Nearing the castle's side entrance, Aria glanced upward and caught a glimpse of her father on his balcony. She gave a tentative wave, which he answered with a nod. He always seemed to glower when seeing Baron, but he'd not said anything to discourage her courtship, and when Aria had announced her intention to marry a Caster, he'd said her choices were her own.

They no longer met in his study for evening games, and most days, her father hardly spoke at all. Aria saw him most often standing before a fireplace, the flames reflecting in his haunted eyes. She hoped his pain was like Baron's headaches and that time would bring a healing.

Perhaps that was unfair to Charlie's memory. Perhaps she should have hated her father. But she couldn't. Seeing his grief, knowing he'd made the choice to leave the barreling path, she couldn't help but extend mercy. He was her father.

After a moment, the former king disappeared, and Aria released a quiet sigh.

Baron pulled her back into an embrace, cradling her without speaking. She rested her cheek against his shoulder and breathed deeply the bright smell of lemons, like a burst of happiness.

"How are things with Sarah?" she asked, since his situation was not so different from hers.

"Difficult. Awkward." He rubbed her back, his chest rising and falling in a comforting way against hers. "These things take time."

"I know. I just ... I know it will never be the same, but I worry it will never repair at all."

"I believe it will. But if not, you won't be alone."

She looked up at his green eyes, full of promise, and found herself unable to resist. Catching hold of his coat collar, she pulled him into a kiss, savoring his warmth in the winter.

"Your Majesty," Maggie whispered loudly. "It's much less than ten minutes now."

With a groan, Aria pulled away. "Yes, I understand. I'm on my way. Mostly. My legs are trying, but my heart resists."

Baron chuckled. "Before you go ..." He pulled a letter from his pocket, handing it to her with a smile.

She grasped it tightly. "I'll see you soon."

Though it was never soon enough.

As Aria walked toward the council chambers, she unfolded the letter, not caring that it probably would have been wise to leave it for after her meeting. She needed to focus on matters of the kingdom—serious matters, like correcting old laws, hearing petitions of people insisting their life and livelihood were now in danger from magic users, and so on. It seemed everyone in Loegria needed Aria's attention at all times. Since she'd chosen this path, she tried to be optimistic in it.

Truthfully, the only thing that made a bright attitude possible was the very thing she held in her hand.

A simple piece of parchment that began with My Dearest Aria.