Aria let her head fall against the pillow, pulled by exhaustion, and she watched her father leave through dimming eyes and lowered lashes. She slept.
But half an hour later, she was awake again. Heart pounding. Counting the days.
When the crow arrived, Aria was pacing her room. Despite the chill of autumn, she’d left her shutters open, welcoming the fresh air. Her mind felt like a maze of insanity, one where she grew more lost with each passing moment, trapped in the fog of unremembered nightmares of being chased by death itself. Fresh air at least made breathing easier. Small comforts.
Thecawthat echoed in the sky was a much larger one.
The crow swooped gracefully onto her windowsill, catching a perch with his talons. Then he peered in, as if evaluating her living conditions.
“Those aren’t mine,” Aria said as he looked to Eliza’s discarded books on her bed, though she had no reason to think a crow cared if she read poetry.
The crow lifted his beak and gave a clicking rattle sound, like staccato laughter. In the slanted afternoon light, his black feathers bore a sheen of blue, and his dark eyes reflected a spark of undeniable intelligence. He pecked once at the sill, then turned to proudly present his message canister.
Aria smiled when she recognized the elegant, orderly script addressed toPrincess Aria.
“Baron certainly didn’t delay,” she said. “I sent my message just this morning.”
True, it was nearing sundown, but still. He’d not waited a full day.
The crowcawedhis agreement. She thanked him for the delivery and gave him a gentle pat on the head.
The bird ruffled his feathers, stepped side to side, but didn’t take flight. Trained messenger falcons always departed after a message had been delivered, but perhaps Baron’s crow was more wild-minded.
Since he wasn’t harming anything, she left him alone and opened the letter.
Your Royal Highness, Aria,
I was pleased to receive your message. Leon would assure you he is aerating his flour—and he was quick to correct me that it was flour; for my part, I possessed as much understanding as you—and he also humbly requests a copy of a palace menu, should that be possible.
If frankness may be allowed on my part as well, I hoped our discussion in the orchard would not be our last. Also, take care how much charm you assign to the boys. Just this afternoon, Corvin stole Leon’s favorite set of tongs and hid them on the roof. I have not heard the end of it.
Aria bit her lip, holding back a smile and savoring every line.
Thank you for your distinction between Caster and individual. Although I am proud to be both, one certainly overshadows the other within society. On the topic of things not said, I don’t believe I explained my hesitation to speak of magic. It’s not that I wish to be secretive, only that I have never before been asked for honestdetails. Many people are content to acknowledge that magic exists when it might benefit them or when it might be blamed for their misfortune. Nothing else.
I am grateful you asked, grateful you count me a worthy source of information. I’ll do the best I can to provide it.
No, I don’t favor yellow.
Sincerely, etc., Baron Reeves
The abrupt ending drew a laugh from Aria. A smear of ink marked the valediction, as if Baron had hesitated, considered adding more, then simply ended it. She’d had the impression when they first met, but now she felt certain—he was not a conversationalist. He spoke haltingly, at times even awkwardly, and yet he became all the more intriguing for it, as if stripping away the easy pleasantries Aria was accustomed to left only the simple truth behind.
I was pleased to receive your message, he’d written.
How she hoped that was true.
It waspossibleBaron and his brothers were just as they seemed. It was possible there was no underlying plot, no pitfall waiting to snare her. It was possible at least one Caster in the kingdom possessed a kind heart and upright motivations.
Wasn’t it?
Glancing up, she saw the crow still perched at her window, pecking curiously at the stone frame.
“Did he instruct you to wait for a response?” she asked.
The bird squawked, as if she’d startled him, but he didn’t take flight.
With a smile, she said, “I’ll write quickly.”
