Chapter 24
Wren gasped as the blade spun in the light. Once, twice, a third time. Each one faster than the last.
“I did it!” She caught the hilt and turned to Castien.
His joy collided with hers. Her happiness doubled—no, tripled—when it came into contact with his. He grinned at her.
“I knew you could.”
An overwhelming feeling came over her. Something she had not experienced since she was a little girl.
Wren wished … to hug him. She froze in place, dagger at her side.
The giddiness didn’t leave, bubbling like a pot of sweet caramel within her, but she was unsure of what to do with this foreign urge.
Castien let out a soft laugh. “Are you so shocked, dearest?”
Yes.
Wren’s heart raced. She sheathed her dagger, then before she could overthink her actions, Wren threw her arms around Castien’s neck.
He tensed beneath her embrace, and she wondered if she’d made a mistake.
Then, his hands slid over her waist, making her suck in a breath.
He enveloped her in his arms, drawing her close.
Her head settled over his heart, which thundered in her ear.
She let her eyes fall shut. Breathed in his comforting scent.
Relished the steady warmth he provided. She hadn’t hugged anyone outside of her brother in likely a decade.
Tears sprung to her eyes. It felt so good to be held.
And yet, her heart was racing in tandem with Castien’s.
She did not know if she wanted to stay here forever or run straight into the Tides.
One of Castien’s hands moved. It startled her at first. She almost pulled away, until he ran it between her shoulder blades in a soothing gesture.
Wren’s breathing started to even out with each gentle brush.
Had she ever felt this warm? It felt as though she had spent months encased in ice until now, surrounded by Castien and the affection he carried for her.
He wouldn’t want you if he knew, the darkest parts of her mind snarled.
She squeezed her eyes shut tighter. Perhaps he wouldn’t, but that was okay. They could have this moment. Wren had given so much to come here, to find her brother’s killer. She could afford to be selfish just this once.
“Thank you,” she murmured against Castien’s chest.
The swirl of joy increased between them. Wren supposed she was wrong before. One could find happiness even in these dark tunnels, with the right person.
“No,” Castien whispered in return. “Thank you.”
There was something in his manner of speech that made it seem as though he understood the magnitude of the moment.
He could not know this was her first hug in years, but maybe he sensed it.
Maybe she had given herself away by clinging to him too tightly or by jumping the first time his hand moved.
Either way, she was grateful. For this. For him.
Their world was perpetuated by chaos and death, but for this capsule of time, she was a young woman embraced by a handsome prince.
Nothing more, nothing less. Her past did not hang over her because he did not know it.
In his eyes, she was pure as freshly fallen snow. Not trampled on as she truly was.
After a few more breaths, Wren pulled back. Castien’s hands lingered at her waist as though he wasn’t ready to let go. She wasn’t either, but she had to. Any longer, and she worried she would give him an idea he could not have about her.
Castien broke the silence. “Wren, I have something to tell you.” She met his wary gaze. Held her breath. Wondered what might fall from his lips that were so close to hers. “I discovered another part of your brother’s journal. Directions. To something hidden in the tunnels.”
She stepped back and his hands fell away. Her mind cleared as the cold set in. Right. They were down here to investigate. Her mission was not yet complete. She couldn’t get distracted. Her hands shook as she dusted invisible dirt off her uniform.
“Then we should find it before it gets too late. Do you know where to go?” she asked.
Castien shook his head. “I don’t know what entrance he would have started at. I’m not sure how long it will take us to find the correct path.”
“Let’s try from the Adira entrance first,” Wren suggested. “He gave directions on how to get to the tunnels through that spot, so perhaps his intention was to start there.”
Castien ran a hand through his hair, mussing it further. His expression appeared torn.
“I want to include you, but I am afraid of someone discovering us the longer we’re down here. Even if it was not the killers, the Order cannot know you’re here. It would call my leadership into question.”
“Can you not say you’ve decided to recruit me?” Wren asked.
He shook his head. “With your connection to Heron, it would look suspicious.”
Wren looked down at her slippers poking out from the hem of her dress. There didn’t seem to be a solution that didn’t require compromise from one of them.
“I need to find them, Castien,” she whispered. “I recognize what you’re risking. I promise I am not ignorant of the weight you carry.” She lifted her gaze. “But I cannot remain in the dark while you search this out.”
He stared at her for a moment. Ran a hand over his mouth.
“We will try the path from Adira. But if we find nothing, then we will hold off for another day.”
Wren nodded. “Thank you.”
He pulled his jacket off the chair and slipped into it.
“I wish I could let you keep this, but—”
She lifted a hand. “It would be incriminating if I were seen in it. I understand. Between the tea and the fire, I’m quite warm.”
The faintest of smiles crossed Castien’s lips. Wren’s stomach flipped. Was he thinking of their shared moment? She certainly was. That had warmed her more than any cup of tea she’d ever drunk.
“Then let us go before the cold sinks in.” He gestured to the books. “Would you like to take them with you? No one looks at any of the books in here, so they would be safe from harm.”
Wren glanced over the covers. A part of her wanted to hold onto them simply because her brother had touched them. But the other side of her couldn’t bear to look at them when she still hadn’t brought his killers to justice.
She decided after a moment. “We can leave them here for now.”
Castien headed for the door, taking out his dagger as he walked.
“Heathford will take care of the room after our departure, so we can leave it like it is.”
Wren pulled out her dagger as well. A smile stretched her lips as she practiced the spin Castien taught her. It was a small accomplishment, but she had been in need of one of those. Lately, it felt as though all she did was fail.
Castien unlocked the door and paused while he surveyed the hall, then led Wren out.
They walked in tense silence. Every so often, Castien would stop and listen.
Wren held her breath as he did. She made sure to be aware of any change in her emotions to determine if anyone had joined them in the tunnels.
It occurred to her as they paused under the Adira entrance that this was the first time she felt her Curse was useful in a positive way.
She wasn’t using it to manipulate others or avoid putting a match to her parents’ anger.
From the day she’d received her Curse, she never considered it as a Gift.
Today, though, it had kept her out of sight when Calypsia and Soren showed up.
Perhaps there was some merit to it, even if it was small given the price she paid.
Castien murmured the directions as they headed down the halls again. She didn’t want to distract him, so she refrained from speaking.
“He wrote two, which I think means the second door,” Castien said as they started down one hallway.
There were three doors, so that boded well for their efforts. Castien’s shadow danced along the walls as he stepped beneath the torchlight.
“This room is often used as a place to study or meet in private. It would have been easy for Heron to hide something when no one was present,” Castien noted.
“You think he hid something in here?” Wren questioned as Castien twisted the doorknob to gain entrance.
They walked inside and found an elegant sitting room shrouded in shadows.
Castien found a candelabra and some matches on one of the bookshelves.
He lit them, shedding light on more of the room.
A couch and an arrangement of ornately carved chairs sat atop a cobalt-blue rug.
In one corner was a barren desk. In the other …
Wren’s knees locked. A glossy pianoforte.
After the incident, Heron removed all pianos from the estate.
Their parents assumed it had to do with the grief of losing Wren’s beloved piano teacher.
Years later, they had one brought into the ballroom.
Wren had nightmares for days just knowing it was in the vicinity.
Eventually she got used to its presence, but she still hated seeing them. The memories suffocated her.
“You play so beautifully. I have never heard a little girl play so well. You’re my favorite, don’t you know that? I wish you never had to leave me. One day, you won’t.”
“Wren?”
She snapped her head toward Castien’s voice. His concern trickled into her awareness. Her eyes burned. Could he see how broken she was?
“I think we’re looking for a yellow book,” he said gently when she didn’t respond. “Would you like to help?”
She nodded, fighting against her stiff joints to meet him at the bookcase. Wren stared at the books, unseeing.
“You got me a present?” Wren smiled up at the monster in delight.
“You deserve all the presents your heart could desire. Now open it. I have been quite impatient to give it to you.”
Wren giggled as she tugged on the red ribbon around the box. She lifted the lid, exposing a porcelain doll with blonde curls wearing the most beautiful white dress.
She gasped. “It’s so pretty!”
“Not as beautiful as you. Do you like her dress?”
Wren nodded. The monster pulled out a matching one from behind his back.
“It is for our wedding. So you’ll never have to leave me.”
The sound of a book being pulled off the shelf yanked Wren back to the present. Her heart galloped in her chest. She shook her head a little, hoping Castien wouldn’t notice her pain. Her eyes fell shut and she was gone again.
Wren screamed as she hurled the doll at the hearth in the drawing room. It cracked as it fell to the floor, but that wasn’t enough. She grabbed it by its feet and smashed it against the floor as sobs racked her body. The painting of her family loomed over her.
“Naive, foolish girl,” she snarled. “How could you have been so stupid?”
Again and again she smashed the doll. Soon, there was little left aside from hair and a dress, but she kept going. Her hands got cuts from the porcelain, blood dripping onto the pure white garment.
“Wren!” Heron shouted as he ran into the room. Wren did not stop.
He tore her away from the doll.
“She needs to pay for what she did!” Wren fought against him, but he wouldn’t let her go. Stronger. Everyone was always stronger than her.
“You didn’t do anything, Birdie.” Heron’s voice cracked. “Please, calm down.”
Wren’s pain doubled under the weight of her brother’s. The weight of their combined guilt and grief was too much for her. Her eyes began to roll back—
Hands framed her face. She tried to pull back, but they didn’t move.
“Wren, can you hear me? Come back to me, dearest,” a familiar voice called to her from the edge of her consciousness.
Everything was blurry at first. The drawing room at her family’s estate faded away. Castien’s brown eyes came into view. His thumbs wiped away her tears.
“That’s it, focus on me,” he coached her. She blinked a few times, then met his gaze straight on. “There you are,” he whispered, relief coating his voice.
“I-I’m sorry,” she choked out.
He shook his head and pulled her to his chest. Wren collapsed into him, letting him hold up her weight.
“Don’t say that. You never have to be sorry. Not with me.”
She shook her head, her forehead brushing against his chest.
“How can you say that when you don’t know?” she sobbed.
He gripped her tighter.
“I know you, Wren. That’s enough for me.”