Chapter 25
Castien hated himself. He buried his face in Wren’s hair and tried to build a wall around the way his heart burned.
If Wren mistook his anger as being toward her, he’d never forgive himself.
She burrowed into his chest as her body shook with sobs.
Unaware of how despicable he was. He knew.
He knew where she had disappeared to in the recesses of her mind.
Even without the tortured whispers she uttered of the monster’s title, Castien knew.
The stolen journal had not bothered him as much as it did now.
Wren was beginning to trust him, and Castien was undeserving of such a treasure.
Yet, he couldn’t make himself utter the confession.
Not when she was like this. Logically, he knew there would never be a perfect moment to tell her.
There would always be an excuse. But she had scared him when he caught her staring blankly, mumbling terrible things. He couldn’t bring her more pain.
Castien ran a hand up and down her back.
Slowly, she calmed down. Her crying lessened, and her shaking subsided.
Castien was sure to take deep, measured breaths.
It aided him, but he did it so she’d have a steady cadence to focus on.
After a few more breaths, Wren stepped back.
Castien did not attempt to stop her. He wanted her to know she was always in control when it came to their interactions.
“Did you find the book?” she asked.
“No, but we don’t have to keep going. We can come back another time.”
Wren shook her head and wiped beneath her nose with her sleeve.
“I’m okay. It was just a bad memory. I need to do this.”
Castien paused, studying her. Wren’s face was wet with tears.
Her cheeks were red, and her eyes still held that haunted look that chilled him to the bone.
He wished he could have known Wren back then and joined Heron in killing the man who hurt her.
She wiped at her face and drew in a shuddering breath.
I need to do this, she’d said. Perhaps this would distract her. Castien sighed.
“Okay, let’s keep looking.”
He picked up the candelabra and held it aloft as they scanned the shelves for anything yellow. The majority of the tomes were blue, black, and green, with a few red ones. That made the yellow leather book on the highest shelf closest to the wall all the more easy to spot once the light hit it.
“I think I found it,” Castien announced.
Wren took the candelabra from him. Her fingers brushed his in the process, sending warm tingles up his arm. He stretched his arm overhead and tugged the book down. Castien’s Gift scrawled Heron’s words above the book.
Down. Left. Right. Right. Right. Left. Two. Yellow. 4343.
Was the clue on page forty-three? Or perhaps he would add the numbers up and get the true location.
Castien opened the tome while Wren held the candles above the pages.
Or rather what would have been the pages.
Because this book was hollowed out. In the center was a small silver box with flowers and birds engraved into it.
There was a mechanism on the front with numbers that could be rolled up or down. A jolt of excitement shot through him.
“4343 is a code,” Castien said quietly.
He set the book aside and rolled the gears until they depicted the numbers Heron had written in his journal. The box clicked, and Castien gently pried open the lid. Inside the velvet-lined box was a small folded-up piece of paper.
“Would you like to open it?” Castien asked Wren, though his fingers itched to grab for it. It was her brother who had led them here. His death they were avenging, along with others.
“You can,” Wren whispered. Castien heard the tinge of fear in her voice. He worried they should have gone back aboveground. She could be resting in her room instead of facing all of this anxious anticipation.
Castien set the box down on the shelf and took out the paper.
He moved quickly but carefully, so as to not rip the parchment.
The candles made the yellow paper turn a glowing gold color.
Slanted script that Castien had begun to recognize as Heron’s stared up at them.
Wren sucked in a breath. Shock stiffened Castien’s muscles. Names. Heron had given them names.
Soren Galestrom and Ambrose Bannington
“Soren?” Wren’s voice was drenched in disbelief. Castien seconded her confusion.
While he could see the two Grimhaven men as conniving enough to kill, he couldn’t imagine why they would be coming after him. Something wasn’t right.
“Who is Ambrose?” Wren asked, turning her head to look at Castien.
“He’s a member of the Order. Also from Grimhaven, which fits with the other details Heron gave us.”
Castien’s Gift began to plug the names into all the open-ended scenarios he had considered over the past weeks. Gold threads stretched to make connections.
“Calypsia,” he hissed, as it came to him. “She must be involved in this. I imagine she wants to use the deaths of the students to blackmail me into a marriage alliance with her. She probably convinced Soren and Ambrose to do her bidding.”
“I can see her convincing Soren, but what would she offer Ambrose?” Wren asked.
“Power of some kind. He’s the son of a lord with a mediocre estate. She might have promised him more land or a place in her court once she married me.”
Castien’s heart began to race. It was all coming together. A band of bloodthirsty Grimhaven nobles made more sense than a singular killer coming after him.
“How do the Games fit into this? Heron mentioned them, so they must be important.”
That made Castien pause. Heron himself still didn’t fit into the picture. He wasn’t close enough to Castien to have been worth coming after. Castien clutched the paper in his hand and began to pace as he thought.
“Perhaps that is a part of how Calypsia’s father got into power? I only know that he killed to get on the throne. But it could be something they were caught discussing, and then they killed Heron to keep him quiet.”
Wren winced at Castien’s words.
“I’m sorry. I should have worded that differently,” he apologized.
She shook her head. “What other way could you have? It was a vicious act. One I can picture Calypsia overseeing, even if my brother didn’t realize it.”
Wren set down the candelabra. She reached for the small jewelry box and studied the engravings.
“What happens now?” she asked.
“First, we interrogate them,” Castien said as he walked back over to her. “Then, you decide from there. I told you, this is your judgement to impart. I will merely ensure that your punishment is doled out accordingly.”
Wren opened the box, then snapped it shut again. There was a fierceness in her gaze that Castien mirrored. They would finally put a stop to this. No one else would be harmed on his watch, and Wren could finally grieve her brother in peace, knowing his killer was brought to justice.
“How are we going to interrogate them?” Wren asked.
Castien knew he had said the word we, but he was thinking of himself and Finn. Perhaps Eindar, too. Not Wren. But he had a feeling she would be stubborn about this.
“We’ll need to get them down here. I think I can get Calypsia down here simply by inviting her. As for Soren and Ambrose …” Castien paused. “Finn and Eindar will help me get them here without notice.”
“And then you’ll interrogate each of them? What if they deny everything?” Wren questioned.
“Finn has been trained in the art of extracting knowledge. Between the two of us, I believe we will have a confession rather quickly.”
Wren’s brow furrowed. Castien wondered if she knew how helpful her Gift would be in this situation. She could use it to sense any sudden changes in emotion, maybe determine if they were lying or not.
“I know I won’t be of much help,” Wren said, in spite of everything Castien was just thinking. “But I would like to be there. Since Eindar has already seen me with you, it should be okay for me to come, right?”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea, but I know that if I were in your place I’d want to be there as well, so I won’t stop you.”
Wren gave him a weak smile, the left side of her face bathed in candlelight, the other in shadow.
“Thank you.”
Castien’s Gift scribbled out a plan in his mind’s eye. Once it solidified, he spoke again.
“Go to your room and rest. Perhaps take dinner there. It’s been a long, emotional day,” he told her. Wren’s expression shuttered at the reminder of her tears. “I will consult with Finn and Eindar and send word of when to meet us in the tunnels.”
Wren’s eyes lit with realization.
“That reminds me. Close your eyes. I have a letter for you.”
Castien let out a weary chuckle. She would be the death of him. He closed his eyes.
“Will you ever tell me where you’re hiding these?”
The sound of her skirts rustling made his stomach swoop.
“Unlikely.”
She pressed a letter into the hand not holding her brother’s writing. He caught her hand and opened his eyes.
“Have I told you how much I cherish your words?” he asked.
Her cheeks tinted a rosy pink.
“Once or twice.”
“Mm. I will have to do so more often then. So you don’t forget.”
A smile bloomed across her face and stole Castien’s breath.
“As long as you continue to write me back, I won’t forget.”