“You must tell mesomethingabout him,” Eliza demanded, “or I will hug you and not release. Not even for dinner.”
“He has two brothers,” Aria said, taking back her letter. She gestured for Dawn, and the falcon stepped forward, holding still to have her message canister affixed.
“Somethingunique. Almost every man of court has a sibling!”
“Very well. He also has a crow.”
Crooning softly, Aria carried her falcon outside, then tossed her arm for Dawn to take flight.
“The messenger crow!” Eliza blurted from behind her.
Laughing, Aria dodged the rest of her sister’s questions and returned to the castle with a light step. A little joy did wonders for her curse, shrinking the ever-present fatigue to a heavy shadow, pushed behind her as she faced the sun.
Aria’s journal filled with more notes each day. Things fromBaron—While I must have contact with fluid to Cast, it can be indirect, such as through a cup or bottle, though indirectness can hamper effect—as well as things from her own reading—Most sources agree there is a third type of Caster, arguably gone extinct, andallinsist shapeshifters do not fall into this category but are a far darker kind of magic.
Reading through the journal, she realized she’d gone off track somewhere. Rather than pursuing only questions related to her curse, she’d begun studying magic in earnest, soaking details in eagerly even if they had nothing to do with her specific circumstances. In the past, only a study of history had been of this much interest to her.
Perhaps it was because thiswasherhistory, being created in the very moment. At least, itwouldbe her history, if she could manage to survive it.
Sitting in an Upper Court meeting, fiercely scribbling in her journal to keep herself awake while everyone discussed the problem of Widow Morton, she spoke up.
“A suggestion.” Aria forced her voice to remain strong even as her eyes drooped.
After a moment’s hesitation, her father gestured for her to continue.
“Rather than a direct assault, perhaps we might consider the option of stealth.”
The debate took up immediately, led by her father’s generals and others possessing military knowledge outside Aria’s understanding. She’d not realized the difficulty involved with trying to infiltrateupa mountain. Pressed between the mountain face and a cliff’s edge, Morton Manor had only two approach points—the first being the road itself, which would offer no cover, and the second being the sheer cliff, difficult for obvious reasons.
“Perhaps a Stone Caster could be of service.” Aria spoke without thinking. “They could create steps within the cliff.”
Everyone stared.
“Forgive me, Highness,” Lord Emmett said, “but you mean of serviceto us? You suggest employing the very people we’re against?”
Aria’s face heated. “We’re not against all Casters, Lord Emmett. Widow Morton is the danger, along with anyone joined to her, but there are others in the kingdom who are lawfully branded and practicing. Upright citizens.”
“No Caster isupright,” Marquess Haskett interjected. “No one’s said it yet, but I can’t be the only one thinking it’s good they’re all either showing their true colors with Morton or leaving the country.”
“These are Loegrian citizens!” Aria protested. “It isn’t fair—”
“Enough.” Her father waved a hand. “We’ve diverged from the topic. Lord Crampton, you had another suggestion regarding stealth.”
Shrinking in her seat, Aria returned to her journal and wrote a question for Baron, which she later transcribed to a letter.
How do you face it? When people take one look at your mark and think they know you, how do you face it?
In his next letter, he responded.
Practice—I’ve had a lifetime of it now. Controlled temper—no one has ever changed their opinion of me because I bested them in a shouting match. Comfort food—Leon makes a lemon tart that, in his own words, “makes anyone forget about the idiots.”
Most importantly, I stand tall, because even if they don’t know who I am, I do.
He was so dignified. Confident. If Aria possessed a tenth of his composure, perhaps she could make herself heard in meetings.
Perhaps her father wouldlistenwhen she explained why she broke off a courtship.
She told him directly, because after Northglen, she hoped to never again keep a secret from him—except the curse, which she did not keep by choice. They sat together by the fireplace in his sitting room, playing his favorite strategy game, which involved marbles of four colors spread across a board and far too many move options for Aria’s tired brain.
