Her voice cracked with panic. Baron could see the strain in her expression, but there was no glow to meet it. Nothing her magic could do to fix her son.
Watching her effort transported him directly back to his father’s room. He could picture himself seated beside his father on the bed, clutching his hand with that same desperate strain as his father thrashed, keeping hold long after it fell limp. He’dtried.
He hadn’t failed his father. He couldn’t control the outcome; he could only control the effort, and he’d given everything he had.
If nothing could be done, Baron would fight a battle across the three realms of heaven to be sure. And after that much struggle, after knowing he’d given everything he could, he would grant himself enough mercy to accept the result.
“Hold still, Corvin,” he whispered. He pressed one hand to the bandaged wound and gripped Corvin’s in the other. He closed his eyes.
Everything vanished but the rhythm of his brother’s heart, panicked and erratic. Baron eased it, like a conductor slowing the tempo of an orchestra to let each note sing with greater distinction. The song of blood took on color in the dark, a faint glimmer of red outlining the network of branching rivers that made up Corvin’s life. Baron sensed the one veering off course, torn by violence, and he reached in the darkness to soothe it,guiding it back into place. It reared at his touch like an abused animal, rejecting his influence.
The rivers grew thinner, the red color fading. The song skipped notes. He was running out of time.
Baron clenched his teeth, then injected more force to his Casting, abandoning requests in favor of commands. A sharp ache pounded at the back of his skull, but he pushed it away, returning to the red song.
Finding the path again in the dark, he caught and held.
The song screeched, fighting the rhythm, fightinghim, but he held.
Slowly, slowly, the pressure against his mind eased.
The rivers ran straight in the darkness.
The song calmed.
For one horrifying,terror-filledmoment, Baron thought he’d lost Corvin. That the effort hadn’t been enough. But then he felt the boy squeeze his hand, and he opened his eyes to find his brother blinking lethargically, cradled in Sarah’s arms. A faint golden glow faded from Corvin’s leg.
Corvin looked down at his wound. “It still hurts,” he said nervously, “but ...”
“But not like before?”
He shook his head.
With a great sigh of relief, Baron sat back, releasing his hand. The weight of the almost-loss mixed with the triumph of success left a strange, bittersweet taste in his mouth.
“It isn’t healed,” he said. “I’ve just dammed the bleeding, but it will last a few hours, long enough to get a surgeon for the rest.”
Corvin gave a shaky smile. At least until Leon whacked him on the shoulder.
“Next time, don’t get skewered, you skinny chicken. Don’t you know cats eat birds?”
“I’ll peck your eyes out,cat.”
For once, Baron was relieved to hear the bickering. Then Widow Morton approached, and he tensed.
The widow had taken a beating in the form of sharp talons, and trails of blood marked her bare arm where she’d lost a sleeve. A gust of winter air blew in from the gaping windows behind her, swirling with a trail of snowflakes.
Sarah gave Corvin a squeeze, then stood to meet Widow Morton. She drew the other woman off a few paces, and their hushed argument couldn’t be heard until Sarah’s voice rose.
“—to keep my sonssafe! That was the point ofeverything, Clarissa!”
Widow Morton shot back, “Then you should have warned them not to align with the princess!”
Baron looked at the broken windows leading to a black night. Aria hadn’t even screamed as she fell, her face reflecting only sudden shock. He felt that same shock within, still frozen in the loss, not yet processing the deep pain that was to come.
“Don’t worry, Baron.” Corvin poked his knee, drawing his focus. Though still horribly pale, the boy managed a mischievous smile. “She’s wearing my comb.”
Aria plummeted only a moment before the world slowed, the air softening against her skin, her body growing light as a feather. Snowflakes drifted past her in the air, and she drifted in the same way, still falling but gently, slowly. Her skin prickled with goose bumps. She looked down at a sheer black drop.
