She couldn’t have.
Not theone day—
“Highness,” the maid said urgently. “Are you all right? Are you ill?”
“The joust?” Aria’s voice rasped. Inwardly, she prayed for a way to turn back the time.
The poor girl was baffled. “Less than an hour off, Highness. If you need—”
Aria thanked the girl, already dashing through the door and around the corner. She practically flung herself into the kitchen.
And she ran directly into Baron.
He grunted at their collision, barely catching himself with one hand on a rack of pots that clanged and rattled. His other arm darted around Aria’s waist, keeping her from tumbling to the floor.
Leon’s cackle echoed through the kitchen. “And you saywe’reclumsy.”
A dullwhacklikely signaled Cook’s wooden spoon against Leon’s shoulder. Aria didn’t check because she was busy looking up into Baron’s eyes, as striking as she remembered—though much closer than she remembered—a lovely green speckled with faint hints of gold, like the first touch of autumn on alate summer day. A section of tawny hair had fallen across his forehead, and Aria felt the urge to reach for it.
She’d grabbed his arm by reflex, and she felt the corded muscles beneath his suit jacket, evidence of the swordsman beneath the noble.
She was staring. And blushing.
Baron’s lips quirked into a wry smile.
Aria cleared her throat and stepped back. “There you are. Not that you were meant to be anywhere else. I’m sorry—I was in a rush because I didn’t want to keep you waiting. I’dalreadykept you waiting, I mean, and I ...”
Causing physical endangerment. Mark. Babbling. Mark.
“Think nothing of it. Better you bumped into me than into that.” Baron nodded meaningfully toward the far wall, which held a display of hanging knives.
Aria pressed her hands to her cheeks, fingers cool against the heated skin. She drew in a deep breath before lowering them, composing herself.
“Thank you,” she said. “For your good humor and for waiting. I’m afraid I ... fell asleep.”
At her words, his smile fled, leaving him with a grim expression as if he’d remembered an unpleasant duty. He ran one hand through his hair, pushing the unruly section back into place among the rest of the thick waves. He tugged at his gloves.
With a glance at a passing kitchen worker, he said, “Perhaps we could speak in the hallway.”
“Yes, of course.” Aria hesitated, then said, “Or, I thought we could visit the observatory tower, if you’re interested. It’s secluded and has a lovely view. I thought Corvin might enjoy it more than the kitchen.”
Corvin perked up from where he’d been cracking walnuts. “Oh, I’ve seen it. I—” His face blanched. “I mean, I snuck up there the—the night of the ball.”
Aria smiled. “It’s lovely, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it—fantastic view. I’m good. I’ll stay here.”
Baron had paled as well. No doubt he’d warned the boy not to go sneaking in the castle. For his sake, Aria restrained her smile.
“The hallway is fine,” Baron said. “This won’t take long.”
One hand braced on the hilt of his dress sword, he disappeared through the door, and after a moment of confusion, she followed.
The empty hallway felt strange after the bustling kitchen, like they’d stepped into the night air away from a fire. Aria pointed down the hallway at a bench, and Baron strode to it alone, without offering his arm for her. It wasn’t like sheneededan escort for a twenty-foot walk, so Aria shook off her momentary disappointment and sat beside him.
He held himself stiffly, looking forward. “I apologize for Corvin. He has a bad habit of ... going places he shouldn’t.”
“Curiosity’s not a crime. Besides, it’s not as though he ...” Her voice trailed as she thought uncomfortably of Widow Morton’s son, then finished softly, “Spied.”
