Chapter 45 Pinprick
Wren threw her head back and laughed. The sun warmed her skin, furthering her good mood.
It was the first bright afternoon in what felt like an eternity.
The air still had a bite to it, especially with the mist coming off the Tides, but it was the best weather they’d had since she first arrived on the island.
“Will you take this seriously?” Kierana scolded, but her lips were tipped up at the edges.
“It is rather difficult with our audience,” Wren said through her laughter.
“You two, behave,” Kierana said. “You’re distracting Wren.”
Finn grinned from where he was lounging on the grass next to a smirking Castien in a pool of sunlight.
If Wren was a Gifted artist, she would force them not to move until she had captured their likeness.
They were something to behold, both far too handsome for their own good with their jackets thrown aside and their shirtsleeves rolled up to their elbows.
Their appearance was distracting enough, but they had taken to taunting Kierana and Wren. Throwing out words at inopportune times that caused each of the women to fumble while sparring.
“I am behaving,” Finn replied. “If I weren’t, I’d have taken my shirt off to be a true distraction.” Finn stumbled over the last of his sentence as Castien tackled him.
The two rolled in the grass, wrestling like young boys. Wren recalled seeing her brother play with his friends like this when he was in his youth.
“Animals,” Kierana said with a shake of her head, then gave Wren an admonishing look. “If you’d like to sit in the grass and fawn over Valengards you are welcome to join Calypsia on the other side of the training grounds. Otherwise, do pay attention.”
Wren glanced across the field and spotted Calypsia sitting on a picnic blanket surrounded by a few other girls, their servants holding parasols over their heads.
They all looked miserable. Calypsia had been more than cordial during the Order’s last gathering.
She’d downright pandered to Wren, complimenting everything she wore in a panicked frenzy.
Since then, she’d continued to seek Wren’s good graces when they came in contact with one another but kept her distance otherwise.
“They do not seem to be fawning,” Wren said.
She turned her attention to Finn and Castien again when she heard Finn cry out. Castien had gotten the better of Finn rather quickly, wrapping an arm around his neck. Wren giggled at their antics.
“Nonetheless, it will not do for you to be so enamored, betrothed or not. This lesson is important.”
“You were just as distracted by their taunts as I was,” Wren pointed out as she fell into a ready stance with her dagger lifted.
Though she was not in the mood for sparring, the exercise was as good an excuse as any to spend time in the sun before dinner. Kierana was not one for picnics, and Wren wanted to spend time with her friend, so she enticed her with dagger wielding.
“I could fight with distractions, if necessary. You should learn to do the same.”
Wren would be offended by Kierana’s prickly attitude if she didn’t know the young woman. Kierana was of a singular mind while training. It was what made her so lethal. That, and her Gift of agility.
“I will do better. Where did we leave off?” Wren asked, trying to ignore Castien and Finn, who had started another round of wrestling.
It would not be so distracting if Wren couldn’t hear Castien’s laughter and feel his joy.
It had become her addiction. She drank it in like a cup of her favorite peppermint tea.
“I was attempting to show you an attack strategy, but I think with how diverted you are, we should focus on something simpler.” She slid her dagger into the scabbard at her waist and clapped her hands three times. “Prince Valengard!” she yelled.
Castien and Finn froze in an awkward position on the ground, looking toward Kierana and Wren. Wren bit back a smile at the sight of their mussed hair and grass-stained clothes.
“Would you please retrieve a practice form for your future wife?” Kierana asked, gesturing to the building that housed many of the training materials.
“Gladly,” Castien answered before shoving Finn to the side with a grunt. He stood and brushed off his clothes, looking more like a stable boy than a prince.
Then he jogged to the small building and retrieved the form. It vaguely resembled a person, more in shape than anything else, as it was made of burlap and straw hung on a wooden stand. Castien set it down in front of Wren.
“Here you are, dearest. Anything else?”
Kierana shooed him away. “Go away so she can focus.”
Castien did not move, his eyes on Wren as he waited for her answer. She smiled and let out a sigh.
“Kierana is right—you’re distracting me. After this is over, though, I should like to head to the dining hall. I did not realize how much of an appetite training would bring.”
Castien chuckled. “It can have that effect.” He stepped back. “Let me know when you wish to leave. I will attempt to keep Finn from bothering you as well.”
“A feat to be sure,” Kierana said wryly as Castien walked away. She turned to Wren. “Now, we shall practice your striking. You need to be able to attack with ferocity, or else the blade will do little damage.”
Wren eyed her dagger. “This is rather sharp. I think it would not take much effort.”
“That is where you are wrong. Even the sharpest of blades must be wielded both accurately and with force. Try on your own. I will correct where needed.”
Wren faced the form and dropped into the stance Kierana had taught her. She thrust her arm forward. The tip lodged into the burlap but didn’t make much headway. Wren frowned.
“You must put all your strength behind it. Imagine you are to deal a killing blow in a fight for your life. You cannot risk failure.”
Wren pulled the blade out and repositioned herself. She took a deep breath and tried to imagine she was defending her life. This time, when she struck, the blade went in farther, but it was a clumsy execution.
“Better. Again,” Kierana commanded.
Wren shook out her arms some. They were growing fatigued, but she wanted to get this right and prove to Kierana and herself that she was capable.
Wren took a moment and imagined she was not fighting for herself but her friends’ lives.
She pushed forward with all her might, and the blade sank deep into the form.
Applause rang out nearby. Wren glanced to her left and saw Finn and Castien with pleased expressions. She turned to Kierana next, excitement bubbling within her when she was met with approval and a feeling of pride radiating from her friend.
“Well done,” Kierana said with a small smile. “You are on your way to becoming an adequate warrior.”
“Adequate? She will best us all one day!” Finn exclaimed as he approached. Sweat shone on his forehead, and he was panting slightly. There was a clump of grass in his hair that increased his boyish charm.
Wren laughed. “I will happily accept adequate.” She looked at Kierana. “Thank you.”
The Stonemouth warrior dipped her chin. Castien took Wren’s hand. She felt the warmth of his affections like the sun on her skin. It was a comfort she was growing used to.
“I agree with Finn.”
“Finn is dramatic, and you’re in love.” Kierana rolled her eyes. “Neither of your judgments are sound.”
“I’m simply increasing her confidence,” Finn said. “Whether you believe you can or you can’t, you’re right.”
Wren met Castien’s gaze, having heard him say those exact words when he was teaching her to spin the blade.
Castien pulled her closer, then said in her ear, “Something my Aunt Maris used to say.”
Finn’s mother. Wren’s heart squeezed.
“I wish I could have known her. It seems she left a beautiful legacy,” Wren said, not quite low enough to be missed by Finn.
He glanced over, a surge of bittersweet emotion rising.
“She would have loved you,” Finn told her with a soft smile. “Castien’s mother will, too. They were best friends and held the same opinion on most things.”
Kierana averted her gaze, perhaps gathering what or whom they were referring to.
Wren gave Finn a sympathetic smile. She knew all too well how grief weighed on the heart.
Realization dawned on Wren, and she looked up at Castien, still in his arms. When he’d told her about how the good memories of her brother would be preserved, he’d not just been comforting her.
He was acquainted with grief. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tight.
He returned the embrace, the gentle peace she felt with him surrounding her like a soft quilt.
She was about to whisper that she loved him when she felt it. A pinprick of terror. Wren tensed. The needle pressed deeper into her awareness.
“Dearest?” Castien murmured, worry coating his voice. “What’s wrong?”
Her throat grew tight and her heart sped up.
“Something isn’t right—something’s happened,” she whispered.
“Are those guards?” Wren heard Kierana ask. “What’s going on?” she shouted.
“Everyone is to report to their chambers immediately,” a deep voice barked.
Wren pulled away from Castien to face the unknown voice. A guard stood before them.
“No one is going anywhere until you tell us what’s happened,” Castien replied, his tone imbued with the authority of a future emperor.
“There’s been another murder.” Wren gripped Castien’s arm as shock careened into her like a rogue wave. “The headmaster has ordered a lockdown. Report to your chambers immediately, or you will risk detainment.”
The guard unsheathed his sword. Wren looked up at Castien in alarm. How could someone have been killed? Soren and Ambrose were gone. The academy was supposed to be safe.
“Who was killed?” Finn demanded.
All around them, guards and professors ushered students toward their respective houses. Their panic closed in on Wren. She took deep breaths, knowing she needed to stay conscious and focused.
“To your chambers,” the guard gritted out.
Everyone on the island—this guard included—knew that aside from Wren, the people he was facing down were some of the most skilled with a weapon the Seven Havens had ever seen. The guard’s words meant nothing, and he was banking on the fear of the situation to control the group more than he could.
Grief and sorrow that Wren had not tasted since her brother’s death shot through the cloud of panic.
She clutched her abdomen and frantically searched the surrounding area for the source.
Running through the crowd of guards, students, and staff was Letta.
Her hair was wild and disheveled. Tears streaked down her red face.
A guard grasped her arm and she cried out, louder than Wren had ever heard her.
“Let me go!” she wailed. “Castien! Finn!”
“No,” Wren whispered. “Please, no.”
Castien went still beside Wren. The muscles in his arm froze beneath her touch.
Finn surged forward, unsheathing his sword in the process. “Don’t touch her,” he yelled. The guard let go but placed his hand on the hilt of his own sword.
Letta collapsed against Finn’s chest. He held her up with his left arm, the other still holding his sword.
“It’s Perci,” she sobbed. “They killed him! He’s gone, Finn, he’s gone.”