“Does this mean the latest challenger succeeded?” Lord Emmett asked.
“I’ll let him make his own report,” Aria said. “I wish to speak of my interactions with Widow Morton, beginning months ago, when I traveled alone to Northglen. While I was in the curse’s grip, I was restrained from speaking of these things, but I am now free.”
Aria recounted the events truthfully, as promised, not shying from her own mistakes, from Widow Morton’s raw grief, from the actuality of the woman’s curse. She spoke of her sleepless nights in a silent castle, of her search for a way to counter the effects by interrogating the only Caster within court.
As she spoke, her father sat with his elbow propped on the arm of his throne, his chin resting on his fist. His dark eyes and thinned lips didn’t give much hope regarding the way he received her story, but Aria pushed on nonetheless.
“My attitude toward magic began to change,” she said, “the more I witnessed the uprightness of a Caster in possession of it.”
The only truth she held back was her discovery of Corvin. Shewas not about to expose the twins or Lettie to mortal danger when the laws were still uncertain. Instead, she said only that Baron had gone with her to Northglen, they’d faced Widow Morton together, negotiated a new peace, and he had broken her curse.
Aria unfolded a sheet of parchment to display Widow Morton’s signature and seal. To her relief, the ink didn’t run. “I hold here the ratified document, in which the widow has agreed to cease all hostilities, provided we do the same. Widow Morton and her Casters do not want war. They want justice, protection, and equality.”
Her father snorted, causing Aria to blush. By reflex, she found herself mentally reaching for a quill, but she pulled her shoulders back, stood tall, and breathed in the moment without judgment.
Lord Philip rose from his seat in the right wing, approaching the royal thrones with hand extended. “Highness, may I?”
He studied the agreement with furrowed brows, returning to his seat. The document passed next to Lord Emmett, then to Marquess Haskett, who gave a low grunt, his eyes wide. Duke Brightwood leaned in to see.
The document made its way to the other wing, and quiet, concerned discussions whispered in its wake.
“Someone say it,” Marquess Haskett snapped.
“Highness ...” Philip looked aghast. “This agreement includes protections forshapeshiftersas well.”
The king’s eyes narrowed as he read the agreement at last. Aria thought perhaps she should have read it out loud to begin with. She’d never conducted a meeting like this before, but now that she thought about it, her father always had an adviser read important documents aloud.
She swallowed the mistake and pressed on. “Affiliates, Lord Philip—a type of magic user similar to Casters. They aremembers of our kingdom like any other, and it is unthinkable to execute any person simply for existing. Such a thing makes us a tyranny.”
She paused, then reached for her grandmother’s journal, tucked into her satchel. “During my grandmother’s reign—”
The doors to the throne room swung open, admitting a guard with hurried steps. He bowed at the base of the stairs.
“Your Majesty, Mr. Auden Huxley requests to be seen immediately. He claims knowledge of a dire threat against the kingdom.”
Aria could have strangled the steward. Especially when her father ordered for him to be admitted.
She protested, “There is a trial in session—”
“I’m not convinced thereisa trial in session,” the king retorted.
Leaning on his cane, Mr. Huxley limped into the room and made his bows. With more melodramatic paleness and shaking than necessary, he gave the accusation Aria dreaded.
“The Reeves twins are shapeshifters, Your Majesty! I watched them—both of them—turn into crows and fly off into the night!”
Panic erupted in a rush of voices.
Aria felt that same panic grip her, but if she faltered now, she would fail all of them. So she thought of Baron—controlled calm—and spoke over the din.
“Thank you, Mr. Huxley, for bringing this to the court’s attention. I have my own witness to add to yours.”
Curiosity captured the crowd, drawing everyone’s eyes back to her, as she had hoped.
“First, a correction. The Reeves twins are Affiliates, which is the proper term. Terms matter—we would not refer to a tailor as a butcher even though they both do a great deal of cutting things apart.”
Perhaps she should have refrained from gruesome imageswhile presenting a defense of “dangerous magic users.” Once again, she swallowed the mistake and continued forward.
“Second, they’re not both crows. One is Crow-Affiliate and the other a cat. By this inaccuracy, we see the danger of presenting a hurried report, of acting before we possess all the facts. Most important of those facts would be that neither of the Reeves boys presents a threat to the kingdom. Corvin Reeves, the future lord baron, even saved my life using his magic.”
