Chapter 38
Castien watched as Wren’s lips parted in shock. Agony ripped through him. The kind too strong to stifle.
“No,” she whispered, the word torn like his heart. “Tell me it isn’t true. Tell me you’re lying,” she begged.
“I cannot.” He swiped a shaking hand over his mouth. “I-I heard about Heron’s journal while we were investigating his death. I went looking for it and found yours instead.”
He didn’t bother bringing Finn into this. It was best for all of her hatred to be directed where it belonged: toward him.
Wren placed a hand on her abdomen as if she’d been struck.
“This whole time…” She shook her head. “You knew.”
“I am so sorry, Wren. I wanted to tell you—”
“No!” she shouted, her voice like the Tides crashing against the rocks. “I trusted you. I put my life in your hands. I wrote you letter after letter, thinking I was giving you pieces of myself when you already had everything!”
Castien winced. She was right that he had stolen from her, but she wasn’t contained by the bindings of that journal. Wren was so much more than that. Castien wanted to show her, but now he doubted he’d get the chance.
“I stole it before we were friends. I wouldn’t do so now. You must know I’d never seek to hurt you.”
She let out a sardonic laugh that cleaved Castien’s heart in two.
“Why should I believe what you say? You took from me, just as everyone has, and then you lied.” Her face shined with tears in the torchlight.
“This whole time I thought we were friends, but you used my journal to get close to me. To get me to hand over my brother’s journal so you could protect your precious Order. ”
Castien shook his head, taking a step forward. Wren responded by taking one back.
“No, Wren, you can’t believe that,” he pleaded.
“I may have stolen your journal for the investigation, but from that moment forward I have only wanted to protect you. To know you. To—” He cut off before he could admit to loving her.
If he did, she would not accept it as anything other than a manipulative lie.
“Protect me?” she spat the words. “You sifted through my darkest moments, my secrets, my most treasured memories and deepest fears. You claimed them for your own while pretending to know nothing in our letters and conversations. You let me believe a murderer took them, and you claim you sought to protect me?” All of the light left her gaze.
Any warmth within her frosted over before his eyes.
“The only person I need protection from is you.”
She took another step back.
“Wren, no, please,” he begged. “I made a mistake, many of them. But I care for you. Haven’t I proven as much?”
“Can’t you see how this ruins your every action?” Tears streamed down her face. “All of what we shared is tainted now. You betrayed me. How could I ever trust you again?”
Castien’s throat was tight. Tears burned his eyes. His Gift was gone in the face of such strong emotion. There was no solution present. He didn’t know what to say to redeem himself in her eyes. He wasn’t sure he deserved her forgiveness at all.
“Please.” He choked out the only word he could think of.
Wren pressed her lips together. Silence stretched between them for both an eternity and a single breath.
Finally, she shook her head, and with the motion, shattered any illusion of hope Castien had left.
Without another word, she turned her back to him and walked into the night.
Leaving Castien aching, hollow, and cold.
He watched her until she was out of sight. His every breath sawed through him.
What could he do? If he chased after her, all he would be able to do was beg. Nothing he could do would improve her opinion of him. She had said as much. Tainted. That’s how she saw their friendship.
Castien pushed his hands into his hair and tugged it hard.
Panic crept up on him, threatening to swallow him whole.
He couldn’t lose her. Castien had never dared to care this much.
If he lost her, he’d spend the rest of his days in agony.
Everything reminded him of her. From the sunrise to flowers to parchment and ink.
He couldn’t take a step without thinking about her.
His hands began to shake. He needed to get somewhere alone before he was swept into despair.
No one could see him like this. Castien scrubbed his face with his hands, then set off to his chambers at a brisk pace.
He didn’t speak to anyone he came across.
Didn’t even raise his eyes from the ground to see anything other than their shoes.
He didn’t look up until he was in his chambers.
Of course, his gaze was immediately drawn to Wren’s wall.
Her likeness scattered across parchment.
None of it capable of capturing her. She was far too magnificent to be contained by any medium.
Castien crossed the room to his desk and sank to the ground beside the drawer that contained everything he’d ever received from Wren—including her journal.
He opened it and pulled it all out, spreading it on the wood floor.
Just yesterday he had combed through her journal again, looking specifically at the memories shared about Heron.
In almost every positive one, honeycakes were involved.
He’d known it was a risk, but he thought that she’d be so surprised—so happy—that she wouldn’t dissect the timing or the person behind the gesture.
Yet again, his emotions had blinded him.
He sat back against his desk, staring at Wren’s familiar script and lavender seals.
All of this was his fault. He’d gotten too close, and it weakened his decision making.
But somehow, Castien didn’t mind being weak around Wren.
A sob tore through his chest. He loved her.
He would kill for her. Would jump into the Tides at her command.
Do anything to make her happy. Tides, he loved her more than anything or anyone in all the Seven Havens.
And right now she hated him. What was worse was he deserved it.
It was not as though he could find fault in her. He’d betrayed her.
Was it so selfish of him, though, to wish for a chance to earn her trust back? He hung his head. Even if it wasn’t, he could not imagine a scenario where she granted him the opportunity.
A knock sounded at the door.
“No,” he ground out.
The door opened anyway.
“I take it your conversation did not go well?” Finn inquired.
“Go away, Finnick,” Castien growled.
Finn—as was his tendency—did not listen. Instead, Castien heard him close the door, then walk closer.
“I am in earnest, Finn,” Castien rasped. “Leave me be. I am not in the mood.”
“When are you ever?” Finn asked as he stood over Castien. “Unfortunately for you, I care about you.” He gestured to the stack of letters with the toe of his polished dress shoe. “These are from Wren?”
Castien kept his head down as he tersely replied, “Yes.”
“Everything between you seemed to be going well, so she must have found out about the journal, as that is the only thing that would cause you to look so despondent.”
Castien did not respond. He stared at the journal, wishing for all the world that he would have forced Finn to find a way to give it back to Wren that fateful night.
And yet … a part of him couldn’t fully regret his actions.
He meant what he said to Wren on multiple occasions: he cherished every word she wrote.
Including the ones in her journal. Even the darkest ones.
They were part of her, so he loved them.
They called to him the same as the light.
“Do you have a plan for reconciliation?” Finn asked.
“She hates me, Finn,” Castien whispered. “I fear there is nothing I can do.”
“Nonsense,” Finn countered. “The woman is in love with you, but she’s terrified, and now you’ve proven her every fear correct.”
Castien tipped his head back and glared at his cousin.
“I’m aware of my actions.”
Finn sighed. “You’re rather pathetic when you’re in love. Where is the master strategist who has a plan for everything?” He gestured to the walls plastered with details. “You know her best. Come up with a way to win her back.”
“I never had her in the first place,” Castien stated with a shake of his head. “Our friendship was fragile, and I shattered it. I don’t know how to repair the damage I’ve done.”
“Do whatever it was that established her trust in the first place. Remind her of all the good between you. Whatever you can come up with. But do not sit on this floor while she grows colder toward you. That would be foolish, and you may be many things, dear cousin, but you are not a fool.”
Castien rubbed at his face again. A headache was building behind his eyes.
“I feel like one right now.”
“Good. Use that sensation to motivate you to fix this. I rather like Wren, and I’d prefer to serve an empress I can be friends with rather than whatever stranger your father lines up for you.”
“Even if by some miracle I am able to repair what is broken, that does not mean Wren will want to marry me. Your delusions are getting out of hand.”
Finn shrugged. “Maybe so, but you’ll never know if you don’t try.” He took a step back. “I’ll leave you to your machinations. But if by tomorrow you haven’t done something, I’m going to take matters into my own hands.”
Castien scowled.
“The last time you did that you brought me a journal that ruined my relationship with the only woman I’ve ever loved.”
“Incorrect. I brought you a journal that helped you fall in love. You chose to keep it a secret.”
Castien’s scowl deepened. Finn smiled and tipped his head.
“Looks like my work here is done. Have a productive evening, cousin.”
He swept out of the room before Castien could say anything more. Probably for the best, considering all that came to mind were echoes of his internal despair.
Castien’s eyes fell to Wren’s letters again. Each one a symbol of her trust. Every letter they had exchanged carried a piece of themselves. He picked one up and opened it, scanning the words through blurry vision.
We can walk along the beach together, if you like.
The words were seared into his memory, but reading them again both broke him and strengthened his resolve. Finn was right. He could not give up. Wren was worth every ounce of effort he had and then some.
Castien would speak to her in a language she knew best.
Ink.