“Hi,” said the other, narrowing his eyes without even a semblance of a nod.
The abrupt lack of formality startled a nervous laugh out of Aria. She tried to smooth her hair and sleep-skewed dress.
Slovenly. Mark.
“That’s not how you greet royalty,” the dark-haired boy hissed.
The blond boy clenched a fist. “I’ll greet how I please, you skinny chicken!”
Lord Reeves stepped smoothly in front of the twins, blocking them from view as they continued their hushed argument.
“My deepest apologies, Your Highness. We were just on our way out.”
“Don’t go,” Aria said in a rush, transparent in her desperation. She’d meant to be more composed than this.
Her initial plan, formed before the party began, had been toask Lord Reeves to dance immediately after his presentation. Foolish of her not to think it through. Of course her father wouldn’t want a Caster in court, not after Widow Morton, and she couldn’t blame him. It was unsafe for the kingdom.
Lord Reeves stared, as if waiting to hear a single reason she wanted him to stay. Even his brothers had stopped arguing to watch.
“Truthfully, I’d hoped to ask you to dance.”
The blond boy snorted. Though his twin shot him a warning look, Lord Reeves kept his attention on Aria, his brow creasing in a frown. Clearly, she’d done something to earn a mark, but she was too frazzled to pinpoint it.
“I’m afraid I don’t ... know your names.” She smiled weakly at the twins, shifting on her feet as they protested standing in one place. Though she wasn’t certain how long she’d slept, the nap had done nothing to refresh her, and with the embarrassment thus far, all she wanted was to slink away to the kitchen and disappear.
But she thought of Eliza, and she stayed.
The twins introduced themselves as Corvin and Leon before Leon promptly asked, “You’re not even at the dance, so how could you want to dance with Baron?”
Aria blinked. “Baron?”
Lord Reeves cleared his throat. “Another time, Your Highness. Please accept my apologies.”
She couldn’t very well bludgeon him into staying, and her mind grew dizzy as it spun through possible excuses, rejecting each one in turn. Her etiquette, finally, managed something. “Please accept mine as well. I was sorry to hear of your father’s passing, and I did not have a chance to pay my respects at the funeral.”
She’d been confined to her room with a fever. Strange how thatnow seemed a happy memory, full of blissfully uninterrupted sleep.
“Thank you, Highness,” Lord Reeves said softly, his voice hoarse. Clearly the passing of his father was still fresh, and Aria felt a pang of guilt realizing that her only thought toward him this evening had been to set a trap.
“I’m on my way to the kitchen,” she said, leaving it open in invitation, then realizing how foolish she was. She had to be the only member of court to ever waste time in a servant area.
Undignified. Mark.
Leon surged past his brothers to stand directly in front of her. “Can you take me? I want to investigate the pastries!”
Aria took a step back, offering a startled laugh before she relaxed. As his eldest brother moved to intercept, she waved him off. “Yes, of course. Though I never thought them suspicious until now.”
Corvin rolled his eyes. “He just wants to complain about spices and order people around.”
“This is a palace kitchen, you flightless ostrich! They’ll have a real cook!”
“All ostriches are flightless, and all cooks are real, so you’re—”
“It’s this way,” Aria said, gesturing quickly. As she took the lead, her knees wobbled, and she stumbled.
Lord Reeves stepped up beside her, offering his arm, though he did so stiffly.
“Thank you, Lord Reeves,” she managed, biting her lip. “I’m afraid I’m a bit clumsy these days.”
