“I didn’t realize Dad’s death made you a coward.”
Baron’s knuckles whitened around the basin’s edge.
“People die, Baron. If Casters could save everyone, they’d save themselves, and they’d be immortal. Missing him is one thing. Even I miss him. Even though he was the worst dad sometimes. But blaming yourself is stupid.”
“Icouldhave saved him,” Baron whispered. “If I hadn’t frozen up.”
Like he was freezing now.
“No, you couldn’t have. I think you tell yourself that because you’d rather think it’s your fault and have this weird, twisted hope it could have gone differently instead of admitting it was always hopeless. I heard the doctor, Baron. He said there was nothing anyone could do.”
“Nothinghecould do.”
“Nothinganyonecould do! He said it! You were standing right next to him, branded plain as day. Don’t you think if a Caster could’ve helped, he would’ve told you to leap on in there? It’s not like he wanted Dad to die. None of us wanted Dad to die! How comeyouget to carry all the grief like the rest of us don’tmatter?”
Too late, Baron heard the hiss in his brother’s voice, looked up to see his pupils sharp in the mirror. Leon gave a loud, drawn-out yowl, canines sharp around his tongue, and in a burst of white mist, the boy was a cat.
Baron leapt forward, slamming the door closed. He hadn’t seen anyone in the hallway, and he prayed that was accurate. Then Leon was on him in a hissing, spitting fit, a fluffy white monstrosity of claws and teeth twisted around his leg.
“Leon.” Baron grunted. He shook his leg. “Leon!”
Leon clung more firmly, kicking with his hind feet. Even through thick woolen pants, Baron felt the gouges in his skin, and he finally reached down to wrench his brother free. Held suspended, Leon flung himself wildly from side to side until Baron lost his grip.
After dropping with a thump, Leon streaked into the corner and pressed against the wall, back arched and white fur spiked in every direction.
“We never should have written that first letter!” he spat, voice edged in a feline growl.
Baron grimaced as he rubbed his leg, spots of blood already seeping through the fabric of his pants. “What letter?”
“After the stupid ball! Beak-face wouldn’t stop harping, and you wouldn’t stop moping, so we wrote a letter to Lady Highness. Told her we had a pretty great brother and that life shouldn’t be so complicated. Clearly she believed us.” Leon’s ears flattened against his skull. “Realms forbid I wanted to see you happy again. If I’d known it would make everything worse, I wouldn’t have bothered!”
He scrabbled forward, disappearing under the bed.
Slowly, Baron turned back to his washbasin. He pressed his left hand to his throat, felt the brand against his palm, curled his fingers into his neck. He breathed. His other hand rested against the basin, fingers trailing in the water as he closed his eyes.
For a moment, the water sang, clear and pure with crystal notes. Then it wavered. Splintered.
He heard the voices of the past, swirling around him in the dark.
My lord, your father’s collapsed! Come quickly!
What happened? He’s—
They’ve carried him to bed, my lord.
The physician’s on his way, my lord.
Baron, what do we do?
Father . . .
Lord Reeves, can you hear me? He’s taken on fever. Hurry, Amelia, move these blankets.
The physician’s here! Martin, bring him up quickly.
Lord Reeves? Unresponsive, stiff muscles, locked jaw ... This is an advanced infection. My lord, I fear—
He’s convulsing! Amelia, move the pillow.
