Chapter 32 Care
If anyone saw Castien slipping into Wren’s room in the wee hours of the morning, they’d gasp and call it improper.
But propriety could sink to the bottom of the Tides for all Castien cared.
His sole desire was to ensure that she was safe.
He couldn’t hand her off to her lady’s maid, then disappear.
What if she had another night terror? Or Calypsia decided to enact revenge on behalf of Soren?
No, he wouldn’t leave her side until the matter was settled.
Even then, it would be difficult to part from her.
A smile tugged at the corners of Castien’s mouth when he saw Wren’s blonde curls poking out of a mound of blankets.
Blossom must have tucked her in well. There was a fire going in the hearth, and the scent of peppermint tea filled the room.
Castien had stepped out to wait on Wren to change into her nightclothes with Blossom’s assistance.
The maid hadn’t wanted to let him back inside, but Wren must have insisted, because Blossom left the door cracked before heading down the hallway with a short huff.
Castien lifted a chair from beside the fire and brought it to Wren’s bedside. Though he was careful not to make a noise, Wren’s eyes fluttered open when he set the chair down.
“Blossom is cross with you,” she murmured, her lips covered by a quilt.
Castien chuckled. “She will have to deal with it.”
“You don’t have to stay with me. I’ll be asleep soon. You need sleep too.”
“I’ll feel more comfortable knowing you’re safe,” he told her.
The corners of her eyes crinkled. He wished he could see her smile beneath the blankets.
“To think I once thought you heartless.” Her sentence was punctuated with a yawn. “You put up walls to hide the truth.”
“Is that so? And what am I hiding?” He kept his tone light, but his heart sped in anticipation of her answer.
“You care deeply about others. Perhaps too much.”
Castien almost winced at how she cut him to the quick.
She had grown to know him better than most in such a short period of time.
He’d been too candid in his letters, too open when they spent time together.
The path to Castien’s heart was a dark maze that Wren had the map to.
It was thrilling in the most terrifying of ways to be seen by her.
He would never have this with anyone else, of that he was certain.
No one had gotten this close, not even Finn.
After Wren, no one else would. Who could compare to her?
“I am select in my affections, but yes, you have found me out,” he said softly. “To care so much feels like a burden at times. I am at the mercy of the whims of my charges. All of you tend to enjoy throwing yourselves headfirst into danger. It makes it difficult to remain in control.”
A soft laugh escaped Wren. Her eyes were shut, but she spoke.
“A pompous prince once told me to let go in order to have control.”
Castien smiled, reaching forward to brush a lock of hair away from her forehead.
“That same prince also told you to rest. You should take his advice. I heard he’s never wrong.”
She let out another muffled laugh and burrowed deeper into the covers. Only her closed eyes were showing.
“I wonder why he doesn’t take his own advice?” she mused. “Perhaps he’s too busy caring for everyone else to care for himself.”
Castien hummed. “Perhaps he can’t rest unless everyone he loves is taken care of,” he whispered.
Wren did not stir. Castien relaxed back into the chair and watched the subtle rise and fall of her blankets that let him know she was sleeping soundly.
He scrubbed his face with his hands. So much had occurred in a few short days.
Soon, the investigation would be over, but then what?
He thought of Wren’s journal and felt his chest crack open.
There was no choice but to tell her. Yet, if he did, Castien was certain he would lose her.
He’d betrayed her in a way that made forgiveness seem as far away as the Star of Adira.
To make matters worse, when she did turn her back on him, he would be forced to see her every day for weeks.
They were stuck on this island until Eventide came.
It was agony to love her when she seemed to only think of him as a friend.
Castien feared he could not survive her hatred.
Not after everything they had gone through together. All that he’d given her of himself.
Exhaustion crept in the more he ruminated. His sleepless nights had caught up with him. He tried to stay awake to watch over Wren, but his eyes grew heavy as the fire warmed his skin and the scent of peppermint lulled him to sleep.
Some time later, Castien awoke to the scent of spices and freshly baked bread.
He blinked his eyes open with confusion until he recalled the previous evening’s events.
Across from him, Wren sat up against her headboard.
She was writing, using a book as a makeshift table.
Her hair was in a braid down her back, and her skin looked rosy pink in the morning light.
Castien watched as her quill danced. Occasionally her writing would pause as she took a bite of bread or cheese from the plate that was atop her blankets.
The image made his entire being burn with longing. If only this were what he woke up to every day. Tides, the world would think him delirious on account of how insufferably happy he’d be. Just to see her in the morning light was a gift that rivaled anything the Tides could bestow.
Wren turned her head toward him. She must have felt something. Her cheeks deepened to a shade that only worsened his desire. They were in a terrible cycle he didn’t have the energy to put a stop to.
“Good morning,” he rasped as he pushed up in the seat. He’d slumped down during his slumber.
As he sat up straight, a blanket fell to the floor. He looked at Wren, who was still blushing.
“Did you cover me with a blanket?”
She looked down at whatever she was writing.
“You took care of me,” she said softly.
The implication of her indirect answer warmed Castien’s chest.
“There’s breakfast by the fire,” Wren said quickly. She twisted her quill in between her ink-stained thumb and forefinger. “Blossom brought enough for you as well.”
“Thank you,” he murmured, hoping she understood how deep his gratitude went. Judging by her avoidance of meeting his eyes, she did.
Castien stood and stretched his aching muscles, then walked to the fire where a cart was placed with two trays on top. Salted beef, bread, cheese, and an array of fruits awaited him, along with some sort of brothy soup with steam rising from it.
“Has any word arrived from the headmaster?” Castien asked as he picked up a piece of bread and ripped off a hunk of it.
“No,” Wren replied. “Blossom said there are rumors flitting around the grounds, but no official announcements made.”
Castien turned to face her. He swallowed. She was unraveling him with every breath and had no idea. Seeing her in her nightgown with a quill in her hand brought him to the end of himself.
“What are you writing?” he managed to ask, though it was difficult when what he really wanted to do was beg for her hand.
“A letter,” she said with a secretive smile that made his heart jump.
“To whom?” he inquired.
She gave him a scolding look. He chuckled in response.
“Who am I to think myself worthy of being the sole recipient of a Gifted storyteller’s words?” he asked in jest.
Her expression faltered, but she forced a light laugh. Castien wondered if she was recalling her true Gift. The one she thought he had no knowledge of.
“I do not write letters to anyone else. Until now, everyone has thought me a murderer. They still might,” she grumbled.
Castien picked up a plate from the cart and brought it over to where he had been sitting before.
“Not everyone. I doubt Kierana thinks you are capable of such things.”
This time Wren let out a genuine laugh.
“Only because she knows I am abysmal with a weapon.”
Castien smiled. “You’ve gotten much better, though. Especially given your lack of training.”
“I guess I don’t have to keep training now,” she said, looking down at the quill in her hand. She began to twirl it in the manner she had spun her dagger just hours before.
“If you hate it as much as you say, then I would not judge you for quitting,” Castien replied. He also planned on protecting her himself, so she’d never need to use a blade.
“I used to hate it,” she said quietly. “But now I’m not sure how I feel. It’s not always enjoyable, but I did like learning from you.”
Her eyes lifted to meet his. There was a shyness to her expression that was endearing. As if maybe she thought he’d refuse her. He’d never refuse her anything.
“We can continue our lessons, if you’d like. I enjoyed them as well.”
“You did?” she asked.
Couldn’t you tell? He wanted to ask but held his tongue.
“Any activity is enjoyable with you, dearest,” he told her instead.
A smile blossomed on her face. Castien did his best to memorize it, in hopes that when he was deprived, he’d be able to recall it. Though it might only serve to cause him more pain.