Except one hesitation.
And what of her curse?his traitorous mind demanded.Can you save her?
With the wintry dark pressing all around him, bringing the even darker whisper of memories, Baron found his magic shrinking within himself, paralyzed.
For all his talk of mercy and moving forward, there was still one mistake he couldn’t forgive himself for.
Slowly, he stepped back, lowering his hand. Aria gave a disappointed sigh that he pretended not to hear. For a while, they walked in silence, and then they remounted, continuing on the path ahead.
Just before dawn, they reached the northern side of Stonewall. Baron would have loved to show Aria his favorite parts of the city, to share breakfast at the bakery, but as it was, they took a small path around the city, curving to follow the thick wall until they reached the southern end and rejoined the main road.
The breaking day spread yellow across the sky, staining the clouds like ripening lemons. Herdsmen and their flocks spilled across the hills, one man drawing close enough to the road to gape at Aria’s golden tiara. She gave a regal wave. Baron nudged his horse closer to hers.
It was only an hour’s ride from Stonewall to the Reeves estate,but the more the sun rose, the lower Aria drooped in her saddle. When she slipped to the side, threatening to fall, Baron halted them both. He climbed down and fastened his horse’s reins to her back saddle strap.
“I’m fine,” Aria assured him, embarrassment clear in the color of her face.
“And here I thought you were cursed,” he said gently. “May I?”
She scooted forward, and he hoisted himself up behind her.
“Besides,” he added. “Einar has made the journey twice, so he deserves the reprieve.”
After he settled, she leaned back, nestling against his chest and filling his senses with her lilac perfume, like the first breath of spring. He had to crane his neck to see around her, but he would have gladly ridden blind just for the comfort of her in his arms, a selfish impulse. Spending an entire day near her while warring within himself was going to undo him.
She’d pulled her cloak free so he wouldn’t sit on it, draping it as a blanket instead, and her breathing quickly deepened beneath the rhythm of riding.
“You named your stallion Einar,” she murmured.
“I’m rather predictable.”
“It’s clever. He’s dappled gray, like the cloak ...”
As her head relaxed against his shoulder, her voice trailed into sleep. Baron smiled.Dappled like the cloak Einar wore to fool the first herald of heaven.No one had made that connection before—even Silas assumed it was a token name.
Baron held her a little tighter.
16 days left
Aria woke with a small gasp, disoriented to find herself moving.
“I’ve got you,” Baron murmured from behind her.
After a moment of paranoia, of quick breathing, she forced herself to relax again, tucking her head against his shoulder. His strong arms encircled hers, and against her back, she felt the steady, calming rhythm of his heartbeat. Her mind drifted back to their journey in the dark, to the moment she’d been so certain he was going to kiss her. He hadn’t, yet he still held her like this. Aria had once joked with him in a letter about reading minds; she would have handed over the entire contents of the royal treasury to hold that power now, just to know why he’d pulled away.
They entered the Reeves estate. The path ahead led to the manor house, a simple, rectangular structure with warm shades of yellow and lattices of ivy. Flowerbeds and hedges lined both path and manor, everything bright and singing with life, a stark contrast to the winter left behind.
She smiled as she remembered his first letter.No, I don’t favor yellow.How far they’d come since then.
To her left stretched Baron’s personal orchard of lemon trees, lined in orderly rows stretching out of sight. Though the fruithad been harvested, the bright citrus still carried in the air, making Aria more alert through scent alone.
“It’s still just as beautiful,” she whispered. Perhaps more so, because this time she did not feel like a stranger visiting. Baron’s letters had made his home as familiar to her as her own.
As soon as Baron dismounted, she missed his heat, her skin tingling at the loss. Even though the air itself carried an unseasonal warmth, it paled next to his. But he’d shifted into the role of estate lord, calling for a stablehand, ordering a guest room prepared, checking final preparations for the day’s event. Aria contented herself to watch his staff. He’d mentioned how servants had feared him as a child, but things had clearly changed; every servant she watched spoke to him with affectionate respect and even love.
Upon entering the house, Aria was greeted by Auden Huxley, who protested that surely she was too busy to spend an entire day here, surely a royal heir hadbetterthings to do.
“Your concern is touching,” she said, “but there is literally nowhere I’d rather be in the world than right here.”
