Chapter 34
Castien was a fool. A Tides-cursed fool.
Would he ever stop letting his pen get away from him while writing to Wren?
He should not have brought up his ridiculous proposal.
Wren was curious to a reckless degree. Castien knew she would ask.
Deep down, he was desperate for her to. But now, standing in the library alcove alone, he regretted his words.
He raked an ink-stained hand through his hair as he paced.
“This proposal of yours must not be very good if it has you this out of sorts.” Wren’s amused tone made him stop short. His heart jumped. He hadn’t even noticed she’d arrived.
Wren stepped into the dimly lit alcove. Her blonde locks were down this evening, slightly windswept. She wore a lavender ribbon around her waist and a matching cloak. Her lips—upturned in a wry smirk—were stained a berry color, either by rouge or from the wine with dinner, he did not know.
“I won’t be the judge,” Castien replied, trying with all his might to stop staring at her mouth.
“Tides, Cas, you look as though you’re about to face a cryptura,” Wren jested as she untied the cloak around her neck. His gaze traced the column of her throat. It would be easier to face a cryptura than to present this to her while not letting the breadth of his emotions get the better of him.
“You called me Cas,” he rasped.
Say it again, he begged internally. Before I ruin everything like I’m fated to.
She gave him a look that said he was being peculiar.
“You did sign your last letter that way. I took it as encouragement to use the name more often.”
Had he? Perhaps he didn’t finish his name in his rushed response. Castien couldn’t recall exactly what he wrote. All he remembered was how much his hand shook. He swiped a hand over his mouth.
“Apologies, dearest, you are correct in your earlier observation. I am a bit out of sorts,” he said in a low voice.
Wren laid her cloak over the chair she typically sat in. She tipped her head to the right.
“You continue to stoke my curiosity, but if this plan of yours causes you so much distress, perhaps it is best abandoned?”
Castien swallowed. She was giving him an out. He could take it and nothing would change between them. His heart beat a dull aching rhythm. Wren’s eyes met his, and in them, he saw a boundless hope. The sight was so pure, so beautiful, he could not bear to watch it be snuffed out.
He crossed the small space between them and grabbed her hands. Wren’s eyebrows rose in surprise, but she did not pull away. He stroked the backs of her hands with his thumbs.
“Promise me if you detest this idea you won’t detest me for thinking of it,” he pleaded.
Wren shook her head.
“You are worrying me, Castien. I told you I would stand by you. If you’re seeking to aid me, how could I hate you?”
Castien’s throat tightened. She may not hate him now, but one day she would.
He should tell her about the journal first, then make his offer.
But Castien couldn’t do it. Wren’s eyes—though lined with worry—were bright this evening.
Her burdens lighter after her brother’s killers were disposed of.
He wanted to help her carry the rest, if only until she pushed him away for good.
Castien squeezed her hands gently.
“You said your father agreed upon you returning with word of a betrothal or a report that you were the best student in your class,” he said.
Wren nodded, her brow furrowed.
“I am confident you could be the best in your class, but it would take great effort and might prove taxing after all that you have been through,” Castien continued.
“I appreciate your belief in me, but I felt behind from the moment I stepped on the island.”
“What if you had a safety net?” Castien asked her, his heart racing. “We could work together for you to be the best, but if it didn’t work out, you could still give your father what he wants.”
Confusion lined Wren’s expression.
“I do not understand.”
Castien took a deep breath and gathered his courage.
“I could ask for your hand,” Castien said quickly.
Wren tensed, her hands becoming stiff in Castien’s grip. Her lips parted for a moment before she closed her mouth again.
“It would not be real,” he reassured her, though it pained him. “We could pretend as though we were betrothed, and it would afford you freedom.”
Wren shook her head as if she was coming out of a stupor.
“How does such an agreement free me?”
“You could spend your days wherever you like. As my betrothed, you’d be gifted the finest of homes wherever you chose. You could have your cottage, if you like.”
Wren tugged her hands out of his. He did his best to remain calm, worried as he was to lose her.
“And what happens when our betrothal comes to an end?” Wren questioned, her face turning pink. “I cannot marry you.”
Castien tried to shield himself from the pain of her words. He knew they were coming, but hearing them was no less difficult.
“You say marry as though being my wife would be torture,” he teased, trying to get her to see him as her friend again. He hoped the hurt didn’t leak through.
Wren sighed, her lips turned up at the edges ever so slightly.
“I only mean that you are to be an emperor. Your wife must be suited to your station. You will make a fine husband.”
“A fine husband?” He smiled, though his heart was breaking. “I should like to think I’d be an excellent husband, at the very least.”
Her eyes crinkled. “You are getting away from the point. This plan of yours has holes.”
“I will admit it is not perfect. It would only buy you a few years. Long enough for us to tuck you away in some corner of the Seven Havens. I could say you died in a tragic sailing accident, and you could live your life in a meadow somewhere far from your parents, until they passed. Whatever you wish.”
Castien always thought his plans through, even when they were dangerous. But this one he’d been impulsive in drawing up. His desire for Wren’s happiness … for Wren, clouded his judgement.
“Years?” Wren asked, her voice quiet.
Castien worried his heart would jump right out of his chest. Was she considering it?
“There is no need for me to rush to marry. I have another year here at the academy, and after that I am certain I could convince my mother for at least one more to plan the wedding we won’t have, perhaps two if I tell her you wish to train to be the best empress consort the Lucent Enclave has ever seen.
If I combine my strategy with Finn’s charm, I’d wager we could manage at least three years, if not more.
” He realized he was beginning to ramble, but there was something in Wren’s manner that made him think she was on the edge of agreeing.
“You would truly do this for me?” Wren asked, her voice dripping with uncertainty.
“I cannot think of anything I wouldn’t do to ensure your happiness, Wren,” he confessed, as bold as he’d allow himself to be.
Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears.
“And you would expect nothing from me in return?” she whispered the question.
“Nothing,” he echoed with finality.
She looked up at the ceiling, eyes watering, and let out a breathless laugh.
“I am out of words.”
He took a cautious step toward her, wearing a soft smile.
“An unusual feeling for you.”
She laughed again, swiping away an escaped tear.
“Such emotions seem to accompany your presence.” She drew in a shaky breath. “You are certain you wish to put on such a hoax?”
He held out his hand, the one with the ink stain he knew matched her own. She looked down, a smile blossoming.
“If it will make you happy, I am sure.”
She took his hand. Ink pressed against ink.
“Thank you.” Her eyes met his. “Cas.”
His Gift flickered, the emotions in his chest warring with it. All he could make out was golden script that bore an uncanny resemblance to Wren’s handwriting.
Cas, Cas, Cas, Cas …