Chapter 47 A Yellow Rose
Heathford slid Castien’s coat onto his shoulders. Castien pushed his arms through the sleeves, then buttoned the front. He wore one of his personal suits today rather than the academy uniform. Percilean wouldn’t have cared about fashion, but Castien felt his friend’s funeral deserved the decorum.
The past week had been a blur of sleepless nights and frantic days.
Castien had combed over evidence again and again.
When the headmaster came to interrogate him, he unabashedly returned the favor.
Her authority meant nothing to him now that Perci was gone.
She had no leg to stand on. The academy hadn’t found out Soren and Ambrose—Castien had.
And if they hadn’t actually killed any of those people? That only lessened her credibility.
Both Castien and the headmaster’s efforts were in vain though.
Neither of them had anything new beyond the clues that Perci’s remains left.
Castien walked back over to the wall where he’d begun writing all of the evidence over again.
He was due downstairs soon, but he wanted to have the information fresh in his mind before coming into contact with his fellow students again.
The headmaster hadn’t wanted to have a funeral, but Castien and Finn both pushed her until she relented. He’d gotten permission to invite a select few people. The ceremony would be heavily guarded and was not allowed to take more than an hour.
Castien scanned the information he’d written in prior days.
Kelda, Alysia, and Percilean all had a pattern.
A calling card left by the killer. If Castien operated under the assumption that there had been a rose on Alysia before she was burned, then she fit into the puzzle perfectly.
Heron was the only one that didn’t fit. Castien’s brow furrowed.
His Gift had struggled to stay active in the wake of his grief.
It took great effort to stay under control.
But it began scribbling in his mind’s eye as he stood before the evidence.
Wren’s words about the murders being connected to him came back to Castien in a rush.
“A heart,” he murmured, touching where he’d written the circumstances of Kelda’s death. “Because we went to the ball together?” he guessed. Perhaps the killer thought them on their way to being betrothed.
“Ears, because she listened to gossip and reported back,” Castien spoke slowly as each revelation dawned on him.
Heathford had been tidying the room, but his movements paused as Castien spoke louder.
“And hands, because Perci was my engineer.” The words felt thick in his throat. His Gift winked out as his emotions returned. Castien had gotten enough from it, though.
“Heron wasn’t killed by the same person,” Castien announced, turning to Heathford. “Soren and Ambrose denied killing anyone other than Heron. I’d thought they’d been trying to lessen their sentences, but they were telling the truth.”
Heathford gazed thoughtfully at the writing on the wall.
“That would make sense. The circumstances of his death do not line up with the others,” the butler commented.
That very fact had bothered Castien since the day Kelda’s body had been found. If only he’d have listened to his instincts instead of forcing Soren and Ambrose to fit into the box he needed them to. Castien clenched his jaw. If he’d just been better, Perci would still be alive.
“It looks as though the guards have arrived to escort you, Your Highness,” Heathford said.
Castien swallowed his guilt and pushed his shoulders back. It was too late now. Perci was dead, and his blood was on Castien’s hands. All that was left was to put him to rest and avenge his death.
Without another word, Castien tucked the letter he wrote for Wren into his pocket, then opened the door and stalked down the stairs of his tower. Finn, Eindar, Cyprus, and Malaki were waiting in the foyer. Castien had chosen to invite them due to either their connection to Perci or the Order.
Finn looked hollowed out, devoid of his usual energy.
Underneath his eyes were shadows so dark they looked like bruises.
His hair looked like it hadn’t been combed.
He was slumped against a wall, staring at his shoes.
The only part of him that wasn’t unkempt was his suit, which seemed as though his butler had pressed it before he donned it.
“Thank you all for coming,” Castien said in a monotone manner.
Finn’s glassy gaze lifted at the sound of Castien’s voice. He shoved off the wall and came to stand by his side.
No one said anything as Castien headed to the door.
All wore somber expressions. They stepped out into the mist and were met by equally solemn guards.
Castien took a deep breath and threw an arm around Finn’s shoulders.
He could tell his cousin needed the comfort, even if it stretched Castien’s limits to give it.
Finn leaned into him as they made their way to the cliffside.
Percilean would be buried at sea. It was custom on the Lucent Enclave for men and women of great honor to be buried in a ceremonial garden located on the castle grounds in Enlight.
But by the time Eventide came, Percilean’s remains would be too rotted to make the trip back home.
Castien swallowed the bile that rose in his throat.
He had decided to make up a parcel of Perci’s belongings to bury in the garden instead.
They arrived at the cliffs where not long ago Soren and Ambrose had been thrown off the ledge to their deaths.
Castien had celebrated, as though everyone he loved was safe from harm.
Now he stood before his friend’s casket that was put together by some of the academy’s staff.
He let go of Finn and clenched his fists at his side.
It was all his fault. He’d made an oath to his father to take care of Perci, and he’d broken it.
“I think that Soren and Ambrose killed Heron, but not the rest,” Castien said in a low voice to Finn.
He needed to distract himself from the present events.
Needed to focus on a solution. “It’s the only explanation for the differences in their deaths and the way that Soren and Ambrose had denied the others. ”
Finn stared at Percilean’s casket. The wind and spray from the waves whipped his blond locks into a frenzy.
“I need to lay him to rest first, Cas,” Finn spoke as fresh tears fell from his bloodshot eyes. “I’ll do whatever you need for the investigation, but let me do this first.”
Castien clamped his jaw shut and gave a tight nod. Finn looked over his shoulder.
“They’re here,” Finn said.
Castien didn’t have to ask who. The only other people invited were Wren, Letta, Kierana, and Calypsia. The last being as a test. Castien needed to see how she behaved.
“I wish you wouldn’t have let anyone who wasn’t a friend come,” Finn commented.
“You know why I did,” Castien replied.
“Yeah,” Finn sighed. “I know.”
Castien closed his eyes for a moment. He didn’t want to see Letta.
Didn’t know if he could handle meeting the gaze of the woman he’d failed.
Her future was gone because of him. But his duty as Percilean’s guardian, as his prince, was to pay respects to his loved ones.
He could manage that much for his friend.
He turned around, and the wind was knocked out of him.
Walking through the mist with all the grace of born royalty was Wren …
dressed in yellow. The same gown she’d worn the first time Castien had laid eyes on her in the dining hall.
Yellow, like his mother’s roses. Yellow, for pure souls gone too soon.
Gone. Percilean was gone. He would never babble about blueprints again, wouldn’t create something to help Castien or the Order.
He wouldn’t smile at Letta or push his glasses up his nose.
He wouldn’t graduate from the academy. Or become the greatest engineer in all of the Lucent Enclave.
He would never get married or have children.
The weight of it all crushed Castien. He almost sank to his knees. His vision blurred with tears, but he saw Wren rush toward him still, like flower petals in the wind. She threw her arms around him.
“He’s—” Castien couldn’t get the words out.
“I know,” Wren murmured into his ear. “I know.”
She didn’t say it was going to be okay. Didn’t try to placate him or lessen his pain.
She merely held him as he swallowed his grief.
He needed to pull it together. Letta was grieving, and she deserved a ceremony for the man she loved.
Castien needed to be stronger for her and for everyone else.
If he couldn’t, someone else would be next.
He sucked in a ragged breath. Tried to think of anything else.
“Stop it, Castien.” Wren pulled back and framed his face with her hands. “Stop trying to shut it all off. He was your friend. You are allowed to mourn him.”
Castien started to shake his head, but she held him still.
“This was not your fault. I know you don’t believe me, but it is simply a fact.
You are not responsible for Perci’s death.
” Her voice was hushed, meant only for him to hear, but it still carried a sharpness indicative of her fierce opinion.
Wind whipped her curls around her face. Stole away the yellow flowers she had tucked into them.
“I made a promise.” Castien gritted out the words. “He was my charge.”
Wren stroked his cheekbone.
“You couldn’t watch over him every second of the day—”
“I should have found the killer first!” Castien shook with anger at himself. “I should have been better, faster, whatever it took to stop this.”
“You cannot carry this weight alone,” Wren said, tears in her eyes. “We were all searching. We all failed. And even so, it is not on our shoulders that a monster took the life of an innocent man. You are a victim too, Castien. You lost someone you loved.”
“I should have been better. I will be better.” He pulled away “I won’t allow them to hurt anyone else.”
Wren stared at him, seeing through his defenses as she always did.
But he could not give in to the urge to soften in her presence.
He set his gaze on Letta, who was crying softly in Finn’s arms. Never again would this pain occur.
No more mistakes. Castien would find the killer, and end this once and for all.