Widow Morton had stormed off into the manor after her heated argument with Sarah. Baron took heart that the remaining Casters seemed more nervous than hostile, and they were quick to respond to Sarah’s instructions. Because Corvin was not fit to travel, Sarah ordered one of the Casters to ride for the small town where the nearest surgeon resided. Richard Langley personally bandaged Weston, who would also need to be seen by the surgeon.
“You have to go,” Corvin whispered to Baron. “You have to help Aria escape.”
Baron knew Aria well enough to know escape would not be her intention. In fact, odds were high she’d already snuck her way back into the mansion. He glanced at the doorway, but it held a congregation of Casters, and he was hesitant to leave Corvin.
“I’ll do it,” Leon grumbled. “Nose around and see what I can find.”
Barely a moment later, a white puffball slunk off into the manor. If Sarah noticed the large cat brush against her leg, she said nothing.
“Are you mad we came?” Corvin asked.
Baron said, “Right now, I’m focused on relief. We can discuss ‘mad’ later.”
“You should have seen Leon try to fly. He hit a tree.”
Despite himself, Baron snorted.
Corvin grinned. Then his eyes drifted to his mother at the door. “Do you think ... I should talk to her?”
“If you want to.”
“You wouldn’t be mad?”
“Corvin, you worry far too much what I think. Whether you’re breaking heirloom vases or ballroom windows, you’re my brother, and I love you. Anything else is secondary. So what matters regarding Sarah is whatyouthink.”
“I think ... maybe I break too many things.”
They shared a smile. When Sarah returned, Baron waited for a nod from Corvin, then stepped away to give them a private moment.
Leon returned at last, padding softly into the ballroom. Judging by the layers of dust darkening his thick fur, he’d snuck through all kinds of uncharted manor areas. Though he shook himself, most of the grime stuck.
Baron crouched in front of him.
“Found her.” Leon’s whiskers twitched. He sneezed. “Good and bad news.”
“How bad?”
“Let me tell my thing, Baron. Good news, looks like she melted the winter witch’s heart. Bad news, Widow Curseface is the worst Caster alive and can’t fix her own curse. Good news, you can, since you fixed birdbrain.”
“Bad news?”
“Can you not see my fur?” Leon licked one paw, then gagged. He shook his head. “They’re heading back here, along with some girl. Charlie’s sister, I guess.”
Baron glanced at Corvin. Sarah had helped him stand, all his weight carefully leaning on his uninjured leg. For the moment, Baron needed to tend to his family.
As he approached, Sarah glanced at him, then down at thefloor, streaked with thick blood. “I wanted to get him cleaned up and settled before the surgeon arrives. There’s a guest room just down the hall.”
Corvin cocked his head rebelliously. “I told Mom I can walk, but—”
Baron picked the boy up. Sarah shot him a grateful smile.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I wanted . . . I’d hoped . . .”
She trailed off, and Baron didn’t have the words to continue that conversation.
“Which room?” he asked.
By the time Corvin was settled in bed and Baron had cleaned himself up as much as possible—washing his hands, discarding what remained of his vest—Widow Morton found him. When she nodded toward the hall, he followed, and they stood beneath a glowing sconce.
