“I heard you can’t stop the curse,” he said, speaking first.
She’d changed into a new dress and refastened her hair but hadn’t replaced her veil. Her face bore a deep gash that would likely scar.
“I made a mistake with the Artifact,” she said.
“Sarah brought me the bloodied towel, but I can’t sense—”
“That’s because I lied to Sarah.” Widow Morton kept her gaze on the wall, arms folded, shoulders sagging. “I thought myself terribly clever. A common Artifact could be discovered, captured, tampered with, so I anchored to something no one would suspect. I anchored to the person I cursed.”
Baron’s eyes widened. “Ariais the Artifact?”
“I kept a decoy Artifact and told no one the truth. Mere weeks in, I realized my mistake. The curse was meant to deteriorate, but as it eroded its subject, it also eroded the Artifact, creating the very danger I’d meant to defend against.”
“That’s why it rebounded on you.”
“Among other things. It gave Her Highness increased resistance—aided, I suspect, by your own efforts—and delayed spreading. When I felt it tonight ...” She sighed. “I thought I’d employed a monster on a leash, but I have tried to leash lightning.”
Baron studied his hands, tracing his thumb along the lines of his palm. Though he’d scrubbed off every drop of Corvin’s blood, his ears still rang with the faint echo of a red song, calling like a far-off trumpet on the wind. It was not haunting; rather, it was invigorating. He felt the way he did after mastering a sword form. He felt the drive to repeat the success, the confidence that hecould.
“I will break it,” he said.
Widow Morton met his eyes at last. “Your success with your brother is impressive, I’ll admit. A wound of that severity would have been beyond my abilities.”
Baron heard a note of hope in her voice.
Then she said, “But the curse has almost run its course. Its hold on the princess is deep, and I fear in anchoring it as I did, I have blurred the lines irreparably. I could not feel the separation between the girl and the magic.”
“Luckily,” Baron said, “I know the girl far better than you do.”
“It may overtake you. At the very least, even if you succeed, I fear there will be effects on you both.”
“Then I will suffer the effects,” said Baron. “But I will not surrender without trying.”
He found Aria alone in a sitting room, her journal on her lap, a quill on the small table beside her. She brushed one finger absently down its frills while her eyes scanned the page, brow furrowed in thought.
Baron smiled. Then he sat beside her, drawing her attention.
With a snap, she closed her journal, sitting up too rigidly, a posture born of nervous tension. “I was just revising notes for tomorrow. I’ve summoned the Upper Court, and I have only one chance to ... Well, anyway. Corvin’s all right? Leon still seemed shaken when I spoke to him, but he said there’s a surgeon on the way, said you have things in hand, and ... uh ...”
He was staring, he realized. Not intensely, but focused. Just soaking in the image of her and what he loved so much about her. Though she was obviously frightened, she was still trying so hard to be brave, still caring for others.
Baron folded one leg onto the couch, his knee pressed against her hip, his body angled to face her. He rested his elbow on the back of the couch, his arm curling loosely behind her, fingertips brushing her far shoulder just to be certain she was solid. That she hadn’t been lost.
Aria shifted closer to him, resting her head against his arm.
“I spoke to Widow Morton,” he said softly.
“Right, so she told you ...” Her fingers tightened around her journal, creaking the leather. “That’s why I have to figure this out. I may have a way to deal with my father, but I have to figure out how to make peace last if I’m ... I’m ...”
“I saw you fall.” The words scraped his throat even now, remembering the moment his heart had stopped.
Aria winced, as if remembering along with him.
“I thought I’d lost you forever.”
She kept her eyes on her journal and spoke with forced cheer. “Thankfully, Corvin bought me a few more days. I’ll have to make the most of them.”
A few more days. As if that could ever be good enough.
