Chapter 11 Black Diamonds
“He needs tea,” Wren told the butler. “As well as a fire and blankets. Truly, he should be in bed. I believe he’s Tidesick.”
She would not normally be so forward with staff that was not her own, but Castien’s declining state warranted it.
Heathford dipped his chin but still addressed Castien. “Your Highness?”
Castien gestured to Wren. “She is correct, though I cannot stay down here much longer and forgo the notice of those in my house. I will accept a cup of tea to renew my energy and warmth, then we must return Wren to House of Adira before going back to my chambers.”
Heathford bowed. “Yes, Your Highness. I will return shortly with your tea. Would you like for me to escort Lady Kalyxi back to her house on my way?”
Wren’s stomach clenched at the idea of walking alone with a man she did not know. Castien shook his head.
“No, we will all go at the same time. I wish to ensure her safety myself. I will need your aid and protection on our journey, though. You are armed, I presume?” Castien’s eyes were half open as he spoke, his body slumped in the large chair.
Heathford pulled aside his long coat to reveal a sword hanging from his belt.
It was a simple piece; no jewels adorned the black hilt.
Something about the practical nature of it gave Wren a sense of unease.
Though that could have been coming from Heathford himself.
The butler had been on edge since he arrived, constantly glancing at her.
Or rather, she realized, the dagger in her hand.
Wren quickly set the dagger down on Castien’s desk, not wanting him to think she was plotting his master’s demise. Heathford seemed to relax at the gesture. She did not want to come up against the butler. Her swordsmanship probably paled in comparison to someone hired to care for a prince.
“Good,” Castien sighed. “Our plan is settled. Let us enact it quickly.”
Heathford bowed again. “As you wish.”
The butler turned on his polished heel and strode out the room, shutting the door behind him. Castien’s gaze dragged up Wren’s figure to meet her eyes.
“We were interrupted,” he stated.
They were. Wren had given Castien a piece of her knowledge, to test him. She could not give him more without seeing what he would do with her revealing that she knew about the Order. She’d hoped to have felt some kind of emotion from him, given his weak state, but she was unsuccessful.
“You were going to tell me more about the Order,” she said as she took a seat in the chair across from him.
His desk was expansive and covered in books and stray pieces of parchment.
It took all of Wren’s willpower not to look at or touch any of it.
She had to prove herself honorable. Castien had shown his trust for her so far tonight, and she intended to test the limits of what they had.
Or rather, what he had. For Wren had not yet decided how much she trusted the prince.
Castien smirked. “Is that so? I don’t recall that being the case.”
Wren let her lips tip up at the edges.
“Your memory must be failing you on account of you being Tidesick.”
“Perhaps if you tell me how you found the tunnels, it will jog my memory, and I will be able to tell you what you wish to know.”
Castien’s smirk did not waver. Wren leaned back in the chair as a show of relaxing. She was not intimidated, nor would she be deterred. Justice for her brother depended on getting answers. She would not stop until she had them.
“Perhaps, I could simply grab one of the historical accounts off the shelves and see what I can learn,” Wren threatened.
“My dearest Wren,” Castien murmured. Wren fought the urge to squirm as the unknown fluttering feeling returned to her stomach. “Do you truly think yourself capable of besting me, even in a state such as this?”
Wren’s heart jumped.
“I could have killed you while we were in the library,” she said quickly, too quickly to sound intimidating.
He raised his dark brows.
“I’m aware. But we are not there anymore, are we?”
His voice was low, with a darker tone that confused Wren’s sensibilities. She felt both hot and cold all at once. Perhaps she was Tidesick, too.
“You are weak with illness,” she said softly. “Do you believe you’re proficient like this?”
“It is not about what I think, is it?” he mused, his dark eyes glittering like the black diamonds in the dagger on his desk. “You’ll have to assess the risk yourself. Can you obtain the information you seek without consequences?”
Wren’s breathing quickened. She felt like a mouse cornered by a cat.
“You said you wouldn’t hurt me.” The words came out like an accusation. Tides, she was pathetic. She’d never get what she needed like this.
Castien’s gaze softened.
“I keep my word, don’t I, dearest?” His words made her chest ache. Something sparked again in his gaze. She felt the heat in her abdomen. His next words were barely above a whisper. “I wouldn’t have to hurt you to stop you.”
“I’m afraid to ask how you would do so.”
Wren swallowed as a lazy smirk stretched his lips.
“Reach for something,” he dared her. “And you’ll find out.”
Her face warmed. She hoped he could not see well in the dim light. Another knock sounded at the door before Heathford walked in with a small silver tea tray.
“You are rather vexing,” she grumbled to Castien, who merely held his smirk.
“I brought an herbal blend that is good for Tidesickness,” Heathford explained, not giving away whether or not he heard Wren insult his master.
“Thank you, Heathford.”
Castien accepted the cup of steaming liquid, wincing as he took a sip.
“That is atrocious, but I suspect it will help,” Castien told the butler, who nodded.
“Once you have finished, we can escort Lady Kalyxi back to her chambers.”
Wren was frustrated by the second interruption. She would not make progress with Heathford around. Not that she had made much while he was gone, either. The entire evening had not gone the way she had imagined.
“Did we ever have it out?” Wren asked, her brow furrowed. She did not think so, but how was she to know? It was not as if she had experience with the matter.
Castien chuckled over the rim of his cup. This time, he didn’t cough, which Wren took as a sign the tea was helping.
“No, I’m afraid my illness prevented the endeavor. Would you like to now? I imagine you are still quite cross with me. I do not want to deny you when you came all this way.”
Wren huffed. “I do not even know what the phrase means. Though I gather it is not something you do with an audience.”
Castien’s smile was wry.
“Not if you can help it, no. My goal was that you would be able to get out your anger toward me. Some people yell or insult one another.”
Wren wrinkled her nose.
“I would rather sword fight, and you know how I feel about that.”
A surprised laugh shook Castien, this time ending in a hoarse cough. Wren felt his mirth and tried not to enjoy the warmth it brought.
“I’m afraid I’m not quite well enough to do that. Unless you’d like the advantage?”
“I thought you said you could best me even now?” Wren challenged.
Castien’s amusement spread through Wren’s body like a hot sip of tea on a cold day. She pressed her nails into her palms to distract from the feeling.
“If it came to it, yes. But I think sparring would be best if at least one of us was capable, or else bloodshed might occur.”
“And if that was my intent?” Wren asked.
Heathford tensed in the corner of the room where he stood sentry.
“While I would welcome the honor to bleed at your hand, I don’t think Heathford would allow it. He’s a touch protective over me.”
Wren noticed the butler’s hand resting on the hilt of the sword at his hip.
“Shame,” she said as if she were lamenting.
Castien took another sip of tea, his eyes glittering with merriment Wren could feel. She almost couldn’t believe it, but the emotion was unmistakable. He was Tidesick, and Wren was pestering him about secrets he no doubt wanted to stay hidden, yet he was … happy?
“Shame, indeed.”