“Silas!” Baron dropped his sword. His ears rang as much with the sudden silence as they had with his strikes. “I could have killed you!”
“Not with this tree branch, you couldn’t.” Silas wiggled the toe of his boot beneath the practice sword and kicked it up, stumbling to catch it. He gave the blunt weapon a few dramatic swings with terrible form. Though he stood tall and broad-shouldered, Silas was an academic, not an athlete. He probably had a small book or at least a collection of folded notes squirreled away in each of his pockets.
“How was the university?”
“I told you in my letter.”
Baron snorted. “Your letter had barely a dozen words in it.”
“You imply a dozen words can’t speak the truth?”
He must have driven his instructors to madness with similar debates. Baron found himself smiling. “It’s good to have you back.”
Silas laughed, turning the sword so Baron could take its handle. “You are theonlyperson in the entire kingdom who would say that. Even Maggie only gave me an earful for missing her birthday.”
“I believe she was expecting a dance from her brother. You can make up for it next week by bringing her to the event I’m hosting.”
“Since when do you hostanything? That’s one of the reasons I come here: the seclusion. Don’t tell me you’ve been consumed by society in my absence.” His dark eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you’vemarried.”
“I haven’t.” To his surprise, Baron’s chest pinched as he said it. He’d never looked forward to marriage, knowing well its pitfalls—after all, he’d witnessed his father’s second marriage from hopeful start to devastating finish. Yet he found himself considering things he never had before.
“Come inside.” Baron nodded toward the manor house, hidden by trees and the long weapons shed. “I’ll try to keep the truth to a dozen words, but no guarantee.”
Leon nearly burst a vein at another intrusion in his kitchen, at least until Silas produced a leather pouch of some spice unique to Pravusat—then the boy happily accepted the bribe. Baron could have spoken to Silas in the parlor, but there was always the chance Huxley would happen in; the man never came to the kitchen or other servant areas.
They discussed the removal of Baron’s title, the unrest in Northglen, and finally, Aria.
“Morton’s right,” Silas said.
Baron raised an eyebrow, surprised not to find a sympathetic friend in Silas. “Did you miss her attack on Aria?”
“Did you miss her son’s brutal murder? Gilly, look.” Silas leaned forward in his chair, resting one elbow on the table. “Revolution is ugly, and it comes with blood, but that doesn’t mean it’s wrong. For centuries now, Loegria has clung to prejudiced tradition rather than progress. That prejudice branded you, and it nearly killed me.”
He was referring to the event that had sent him abroad. While arguing with his father, Silas had lost his temper andtransformed, revealing his nature as an Affiliate. Without a moment’s hesitation, Lord Bennett had tried to kill his own son.
Luckily, Baron and his father had been present, and while his father restrained the man, Baron broke the law by forcing Lord Bennett to drink a Cast. The action still shadowed his memory, but he would rather break any number of laws than see his friend dead. Baron hadn’t been able to make the man forget everything—otherwise, he risked Lord Bennett’s mind breaking the Cast—so he’d confused the viscount into thinking the reason for his rage was that Silas had struck him. Silas had been banished abroad for two years, wounded but alive.
He bore the scar on his neck—not a brand like Baron’s, but a thin slash beneath his jaw from his own father’s sword. Had Baron’s father moved any slower, the matter would have been decided in that single blow.
“Aria isn’t like your father,” Baron said.
“No one’s like my father, Gill. The man’s a dragon parading human skin. That’s not the point. I’m sure your princess is darling as a hummingbird, but she’s royalty, and when royalty won’t bend, some Morton rises up to break it.” Silas shook his head, black hair swishing against his forehead. “I witnessedtworevolutions in Pravusat. That country is like a plate that keeps getting thrown to the floor and scraped back together into a new shape. Loegria will survive this, and the new shape might be better for everyone.”
“Not for Aria.”
“That’s a cost, but is it too high? Not in my estimation. Pravusat and Cronith and a dozen countries I barely have a concept of—all just one ocean away. If you couldseeit. Theirarchitecturewhen they let Stone Casters freely build. Theirmedicine,Gilly, when they let Fluid Casters do the healing. They’re developing new germ theories around the understanding of blood—their research papers would amaze you—and they’re even restarting failed hearts. They’re saving more mothers in childbirth, and ...”
He closed his mouth into a grimace. Silas often got carried away in excitement, but he knew Baron better than anyone.
Softly, Baron said, “Good for them.”
“I’m sorry.” Silas shook his head. “That’s the thing, though. Imagine what you could do in a society thatencouragedyou, that trained you properly.”
“Society didn’t prevent me from saving my parents. The failing is entirely my own.”
Silas heaved a sigh. “What’s so enticing about her anyway? Your princess.”
Baron thought of Aria asking after the well-being of kitchen servants, offering ointment for Corvin’s wrist, barking a sharp dismissal to soldiers on his behalf. Most of all, he remembered her sitting in the silence with him, rubbing his back, offering support when he didn’t even know he needed it. For a moment, his voice deserted him.
