Chapter 16 Heron’s Journal
Castien was never uncertain of his plans.
More often than not, he was three steps ahead of those that surrounded him, so he feared little in the way of failure.
However, he also concocted several risky schemes that relied on others.
And though he was loath to admit it, humans were unpredictable variables. Especially when the human was Finn.
“Good evening, gentleman,” Finn called as he approached the guards posted outside of House of Adira. “Lovely weather, is it not?”
Castien was yards away from Finn, but he swore he could feel Finn’s charm unfolding like a luxurious bolt of silk.
It was rare his cousin let loose the reins of his Gift.
Only in situations like this did he dare to risk the blind devotion it could inspire in the more gullible of recipients.
Many supposed that Finn’s Gift was always “on”, and in a sense, that was true.
Like Castien and Wren, he was affected by the constant presence of it but had learned to hold back over the years.
He desired to know someone’s affections were for him and not his Gift.
A brisk wind shook the grove of trees Castien was hiding within. Leaves peppered his black cloak. In the dark of night, combined with the thick blanket of fog that covered the island, he was invisible. Which would work to his advantage.
After noting the many guards posted about the academy grounds, Castien decided to meet Wren once the sun had set.
He told her to leave her window cracked, instructions which made her eyes grow comically wide.
If only she knew how many walls Castien had scaled as a young boy.
This would be nothing. So long as he wasn’t caught.
“You should be in your house,” one of the guards said, but he didn’t sound as stern as he should. “What are you doing out past curfew?”
“Well, I was gifted this delicious bottle of berry wine, but none of my housemates wanted any. So I’ve been wandering around seeing if anyone would like to share it. Wine is best with company, after all.”
Castien shook his head. How anyone could fall for that, he did not know.
But Finn’s Gift was potent, and the guards were quickly placated.
It was merely a precaution to have Finn act as a distraction.
Castien was fairly certain he could scale the wall unnoticed without him.
But given the climate of the academy, he thought it best to have an added layer of protection.
So it was good that Finn seemed to be successful.
Not so much as a leaf crunched underfoot as Castien slinked his way through the trees to the side of the house.
He squinted in the darkness. Thick ivy crawled up the brick, making his job of climbing easier.
A soft glow emanated from a window above him.
His heart quickened at the thought of Wren being on the other side of the glass.
Castien placed a gloved hand on the wall.
It bothered him to no end that Finn had seen Wren’s chambers.
It was the one piece of knowledge his cousin had that he did not.
That would change tonight. His muscles warmed with exertion as he made the slow climb up the wall.
He could have gone faster, but then he risked making noise.
“Sarelian. A fine name for a fine gentleman!” Finn’s voice carried up to Castien.
One of the bricks crumbled upon his grabbing it, and he clung to the wall with his other hand and dug the toes of his boots in to keep from slipping.
His heart thrashed in his chest like a fish on a dock.
Pieces of the brick trickled to the grass below, which thankfully muffled the fall.
Castien closed his eyes for a brief moment, recentered, then continued.
When his fingertips finally grazed the window sill, he let out a small sigh of relief. He had made it, and going down would be easier now that he knew the path. Castien pushed the window in and poked his head through first. Wren stood at the edge of her bed, her blue eyes wide with concern.
“I cannot believe the prince of the Lucent Enclave is climbing through my window,” she breathed out.
“I thought you cared little for titles,” Castien half spoke, half grunted.
He heaved himself up and through the opening before Wren could reply, rolling to stand. Wren gaped at him.
“I am merely in shock by the impropriety of it all,” Wren said as she fretted with the pink ribbon at her waist.
“We have been alone without the knowledge of others more than once before,” Castien mused. “This is no different.”
Wren’s eyes fell to her bed. Castien’s gaze followed.
It reminded him of a peony. Each blanket and pillow were varying shades of pink petals.
The canopy was a soft pink as well, drawn back to expose the bed inside.
He could easily see Wren’s blonde curls splayed across one of the silk pillows, quite like they spilled over his arm when he carried her to the gallery.
“It is a little different,” Wren said quietly, and Castien thought he might agree with her.
He continued his perusal of the room, though he did not move from his spot near the window. It would not aid in his progress to have Wren think he was combing through her belongings.
Closest to Castien was Wren’s desk, which housed several different ink pots, a variety of quills, and stacks of books and parchment that were similar to his personal desk.
“This is where you write your letters?” Castien murmured the question.
“Yes, but usually the desk is right below the window. I moved it so you could get in more easily,” Wren explained.
Castien raised a brow. “You moved this by yourself?” It looked to be solid wood of superior quality. Such a task would be no easy feat.
“Yes, and I am rather exhausted by it, so I’d quite like to sit and have tea,” she replied, an edge of nervousness in her voice. “Blossom knows I am to have a guest, though I did not specify that it was you. She made tea for two.”
Wren stepped away from her bed and toward the lit hearth.
The chairs beside it were tufted, with blankets draped over each one, and a small table set for tea between them.
Castien took the seat across from her and watched as she drizzled a spoon of honey into her teacup.
The small spoon clattered against the rim as she stirred with trembling fingers.
She’s afraid, he realized. Not of the subject of their meeting, but of his being here at all.
In her domain, her sanctuary. If it were the opposite, Castien would feel he had all the power standing in the place he knew best—aside from the fact that he would need to hide his walls.
But Wren did not appear secure in the slightest. Castien attempted to calm himself as his grief and anger burned for her.
Innocence stolen at such a young age, no doubt she would be hesitant to have a man in her chambers.
“I know it is difficult for you to trust me,” Castien spoke slowly.
Wren looked up from the teacup she was now holding in her lap.
“I would not ask it of you, due to our circumstances. It would be unfair. However,” he paused and infused his gaze with all the sincerity he felt in his bones. “I won’t hurt you, Wren. Nor would I forsake propriety beyond what we are doing now.”
She stiffened at the mention of propriety, but after a moment of stillness, her head dipped into a nod.
“Thank you.”
Castien shook his head. “Such things are standard and should not be thanked for.”
A small tremulous smile tipped Wren’s lips.
“For the reassurance, then.” She drew in an audible breath. “I suppose we should not waste the little time we have.”
There was something in the rise and fall of her voice that made Castien curious. She had something to share. He resisted the urge to lean forward in his seat. The anticipation of new knowledge bubbled like a stream within him.
“I have something I think would benefit the case. I have been trying to decipher it myself, but I am not Gifted with puzzles.” She smiled wryly. “You are.”
The journal. Castien’s heartbeat quickened. It was imperative he contain himself, but his Gift was already whirring and combining its efforts with his insatiable craving to know everything.
“I am,” he said quickly. “I would be happy to look at whatever it is, if you think it would aid the investigation.”
Wren watched him for a moment. Firelight flickered against the side of her face. One of her fingertips traced the rim of her teacup over and over, round and round.
“My brother left behind a journal,” she began, and Castien almost came out of his seat.
She was sharing! Tides, he couldn’t believe it.
“It has several entries, some notes to me, and then a series of maps and code that I have discerned little of.” Her gaze fell to the floor again. “It is how I found the tunnels.”
“And the door in the Wall,” Castien added.
Wren looked up with narrowed eyes.
“I knew you were lying about every student knowing the combination. The door is for the Order,” she accused.
Since she was about to share a major piece of the investigation, Castien felt inclined to reply, “Yes, though others in the academy know how to use it as well.”
Wren set her cup to the side and folded her hands in her lap.
“Do you know why Heron would have left the grounds?” she asked. “I suppose I have not directly asked you, but your sentiment thus far leads me to believe you do not think his death to be the fault of a cryptura.”
Castien saw the grief and uncertainty in Wren’s expression. He wished he could fully dispel it. Perhaps after the journal, he would be able to get rid of at least the uncertainty.
“Before you arrived at the academy, I went beyond the Wall to look for any evidence.”
Wren’s eyes widened in shock.
Castien continued. “Finn and I came across a cryptura, a mimicta specifically. Do you know anything about those?”
Wren nodded. “They are capable of taking on the likeness of their prey.” Her expression turned to horror as she realized the implication. “No,” she whispered.
“It bore resemblance to Heron,” Castien confirmed in a low, gentle tone. Wren’s face twisted in anguish. “However, once we killed it, I examined it and saw other injuries.”
Wren placed her hand on her abdomen. Her chest rose and fell as she took deep breaths.
“I think someone hurt him before the cryptura got to him. I’ve been trying to find out who since the academy found him.”
“This whole time you were searching.” Wren shook her head, her eyes glassy. “Why didn’t you tell me? I-I thought—” She stood abruptly and faced the fire, her back to him.
Castien finished her sentence. “You thought I had something to do with it. Perhaps that it was I that killed him.”
Wren said nothing. Castien raked a hand through his hair.
“That is precisely why I could not tell you. That, and the existence of the Order. I worked as best as I could without your help, unsure of how to tell you what I knew in a way that wouldn’t condemn me in your eyes.”
Wren shook. Castien longed to reach for her but held himself back.
There was so much more he wished to say and yet even more that he could not share.
The main secret being that of her missing journal.
If he told her now, she would despise him.
He couldn’t bear seeing hatred in her eyes.
Not after he had barely restored some of their prior friendship.
“I understand,” she whispered. “I could have asked you, could have told you what I knew. But I was afraid as well.”
Castien followed her with his gaze as she traveled to a trunk in the corner of the room.
She knelt down and pulled a key off a chain around her ankle.
He watched with blood rushing in his ears as she riffled through the fabric.
A jewelry box was pulled out and set onto the floor next.
He didn’t utter a word as she unlocked it and pulled out the journal.
Castien thought he saw something else in the box, but it was closed and locked before he could determine what it was.
Wren walked to her desk next, opening a drawer and pulling out another book. She brought both to Castien and held them out for him. One was a brown leather tome with the Wild Holm crest embossed on the front. The other, a poetry book.
“Poetry for the Heartless,” Castien read aloud, his brow furrowed as he took both the books.
“Heron used it to send a message to me, so I thought it might be used elsewhere in his ramblings,” Wren explained.
Castien nodded in understanding. Wren took her seat once more, picking up her teacup.
“Read as much as you’d like, as much as you can with our time. I know little, but I do know my brother.” She paused, blinking a few times. “So perhaps I could help in some way.”
“Thank you,” Castien said.
Wren did not reply, her gaze now trained on the fire with a far-off look in her eyes. Castien knew she was thinking of her brother. Instead of disturbing her, he opened to the first page of the journal and began.