Chapter 6 Game of Wits
Castien was being watched. Such a feeling was not foreign to him, but this time, there was an undercurrent of unease present.
He let his gaze float around the parlor while swirling the wine in his glass.
Several men who resided in House of Arythes had decided to take their dinner in the parlor.
Castien and Finn had done the same and were now playing a game of Tidesmark to close out the evening.
They had worn themselves thin with trying to piece together the puzzle of the investigation, and came to attempt to unwind.
There was a group of men at a table by the crackling fire also playing a game, while others sprawled across couches, deep in discussion. Dinner and wine had done a fair job at relaxing everyone, except Castien and the man watching him.
In the corner of the room, Castien’s gaze snagged on the spy pretending to read a book in an armchair.
Ivanhild. The professor of Dueling was now a part of the team investigating the murders.
He had already questioned Castien in this very parlor earlier in the day, as well as Finn.
Their alibis were ironclad. Castien had witnesses to his return to his chambers.
Finn danced with several women at the ball who were quick to dismiss any potential of guilt.
It should have removed them from suspicion entirely, but Castien sensed Ivanhild was not giving up on them.
His Gift wrote in the corners of his vision.
Ivanhild had been close to Heron and close to Wren when she first arrived.
If Wren told the story she and Castien had decided upon during her interview, then Ivanhild would know that Castien walked Wren back to her house.
He would have also heard at some point that Finn escorted Wren to the ball.
Castien resisted the urge to chuckle. The man was not suspicious of them being involved in the murder.
He was simply protective over Wren. That was much easier to endure.
“We have drawn the attention of a certain professor,” Castien murmured to Finn as he placed a card on the polished wood. Castien would not need to be more specific; his cousin was more observant than his appearance let on. He was always aware of what company he kept.
Finn raised a brow as he took his turn. “I am certain I convinced the party of our innocence. I can see no reason for him to be concerned, unless your little bird departed from the narrative.”
Castien shook his head at his cousin’s new moniker for Wren.
“I think he is less concerned with us as suspects and more so as suitors for Wren.”
Finn chuckled. “How charming. He wishes to be her guardian. If only he knew what his charge has been up to.”
Castien took his turn. He would win. He often did, unless Finn succeeded in distracting him. They typically only played parlor games as something to do while discussing more important matters.
“She would not appreciate any efforts on his part, that is for certain. The woman is stubborn and headstrong like no other,” Castien grumbled.
Finn smirked. “I can think of at least one other person who rivals her.”
Castien shot his cousin an unamused look. Finn gifted him with a feline grin in return.
“Shall we humor him? He can pretend by speaking to us that he’s done his part in protecting Wren.
” Before Castien could reply, Finn kicked out an empty chair at their table and called over his shoulder, “Professor, would you like to join us? I am tired of losing alone. Perhaps your presence would make the game more interesting.”
Castien glared at Finn. Ivanhild looked up from his book.
“It has been some time since I played a parlor game.” Ivanhild’s deep voice carried across the room.
A few of the other students glanced over with wary expressions. Being in the same room as the man charged with investigating you was liable to be nerve-wracking, even if you were innocent.
“Then come, and let us remedy such a sad circumstance,” Finn drawled with a flourish of his hand.
“If you insist.”
Finn’s eyes glimmered with mischief in the candlelight. “I do.”
Ivanhild shut the book and set it on the small table nestled next to the chair he was occupying. Castien gritted his teeth as the professor approached and settled his hulking figure into the chair to Castien’s left in the circle.
“We are playing Tidesmark,” Finn said. “Do you recall the rules?”
“Yes, I believe so,” Ivanhild replied, watching as Castien laid down another card.
The goal of Tidesmark was to get a certain sequence of cards, then add to that sequence until one ran out of cards. The player also had the ability to buy better cards with the ones in their hand, but they had to be strategic, so as to not give up what they might need in the future.
“Castien will win soon, and then we will start anew,” Finn told Ivanhild as he traded two cards for the one Castien had just deposited into the pile that sat face up in the middle of the table.
“You are so certain of your downfall?” Ivanhild questioned.
A wry smile twisted Finn’s mouth.
“When you have played with Castien as long as I have, you know when you have lost. If we weren’t seeking to pass the time, I would have had us start over four turns ago.”
Castien held back a smile as he recalled the many fast games he and Finn had played as children. Their parents would watch in disbelief as they dealt their hands, played two or three cards, then abruptly started over.
“It is a wonder that you play at all if you can know the outcome so quickly.”
“There are times when the game becomes interesting,” Castien commented as he set his final card down.
“Tidesmark.” A player was required to announce their win, especially in circles of more than two.
The other players could continue for a chance at second and third and so on until there was no one left to compete with.
“And those elusive moments are worth sitting through the boring ones,” Finn added while collecting the cards.
“I take it you are fond of games, Prince Valengard?” Ivanhild asked in a tone not casual enough to hide his feelings toward Castien.
Castien took a small sip of wine and shrugged, feigning nonchalance.
“I am good at them, but that can also make them dull.”
“Though I do my best to entertain him in spite of that,” Finn jested as he shuffled the deck.
Finn began to deal out the cards. Glossy paper glinted in the amber light.
“I suppose each of your Gifts lends to such pastimes. Games and entertainment, that is.” Again, Ivanhild’s comment was too forward. The man lacked subtlety. He was better with a sword than he was with words.
“If only we had extensive time for such matters, then life would be much more enjoyable,” Finn said, shooting Castien a sly look. “We spend most of our days buried in coursework. It is only under these unfortunate circumstances that we have been allowed a break.”
Ivanhild stiffened at the mention of the investigation. Castien gestured to him.
“You make the first move, Professor.”
Ivanhild studied his cards before setting one down and picking another up off the face-down deck. Castien went next.
“So you would say you spend most of your time on your studies?” Ivanhild asked.
Finn chuckled and set down a card. Only Castien knew the sound was fake.
“Do you expect me to admit to anything else, Professor?” Finn gave a good-natured wink. “But yes, my father would have my head if I were not second in my class. For we all know Castien will be first.”
It was Castien’s turn to stiffen. But not because of Finn’s insinuation of his intelligence.
No, his tension was due to remembering Wren’s deal with her father.
Top of her class or betrothed by the time she came home for Eventide.
Castien did not know how she would manage the former given the current circumstances, and the latter was undesirable to her.
She’d expressed as much in her journal several times.
Castien tried to ignore the ache that settled in his chest at the thought.
He was resisting the urge to rub his sternum when he caught sight of Heathford standing in the doorway to the parlor.
The butler did not speak, nor did he nod.
He simply locked eyes with Castien, then slipped out of sight again.
If anyone else saw him, they’d think he was merely checking to see if Castien needed anything.
But Castien knew that Heathford had gotten his attention for a reason.
And with all that had transpired in the recent days, he was anxious to see what that reason was.
“I am sorry to leave you both in the middle of a game, but I’m afraid the wine has started to disagree with me. Perhaps we can finish another time,” Castien said as he pushed back his chair.
Ivanhild’s brow furrowed. He opened his mouth to speak.
Finn quickly interjected. “What he means, dear Professor, is that he’s had too much to drink, and now he’s worried he might stand to lose.
It would bruise his princely ego.” Finn laughed and grabbed Ivanhild’s shoulder like they were old friends.
“Oh well! We shall be better off in his absence, no doubt.”
Finn quickly scanned the room.
“Hadlington, my good sir, come join us!” He shouted at one of the men on a nearby couch. “Dewgale, you as well. Yes, this is the makings of a fantastic match. Don’t look so sullen, dear Fallswell, you may pull up a chair if you’d like.”
Castien slipped out of the room as his cousin stirred up a distraction.
He was grateful for his cousin’s charm yet again.
Castien was only slightly more subtle than Ivanhild in his departure.
He was too on edge lately to be as careful as he should be.
That would need to be remedied before any consequences arose.
Heathford met him on the stairs to his chambers. The butler wore his usual solemn expression, but there was a light in his eyes that intrigued Castien.
“Your Highness, a missive came that I thought you would want to read right away. I have left it on your desk.”
Castien slowly nodded. “Thank you, Heathford.”
There was only one person who Castien cared to receive a letter from, and he doubted she would grant that desire.
That made Heathford’s behavior all the more curious.
Castien climbed the stairs and rushed to his desk.
There, to his shock, sat a piece of tan parchment.
It was folded in thirds and sealed … with lavender wax.