Chapter 16 New Acquaintances
Every breath Wren took was a knife through her ribs.
Her head spun and her muscles ached. Blossom rushed to the table Wren and Ivanhild occupied, setting down a dish of fish and vegetables.
Wren’s stomach felt hollow. She hadn’t eaten since the bread and Everleaf tea she had aboard the ship that morning.
But the emotions of all those around her attacked her with a vengeance that dampened her appetite.
When she first received her Curse at ten years of age, she could barely leave her room.
Every little shift in her parents' and staff's feelings brought her to her knees.
Over the years, she had learned how to manage the capability that plagued her.
Her brother had helped her cope and even master the ability so that it could aid her in conversations, mostly the avoidance of unwanted ones.
However, all of her training had not prepared her for this. She was a boat without an anchor, adrift in a sea of others’ emotions. The sea was not kind either, it battered her nerves just as the Tides slapped against the hull of the ship she arrived on.
“Thank you, dear Blossom. You may take your meal as well,” Wren told the lady’s maid. Blossom curtsied and hurried toward the kitchens. Wren was sorry to have put the poor girl through so much, but neither of them had much choice but to endure.
She picked up the goblet of wine and took a sip. Her brother had cautioned her against dulling her senses, but he wasn’t here. She could have had strength if he were.
Ivanhild watched from across the polished oak table.
His green eyes radiated concern. Perhaps she should have listened to him and taken dinner in her chambers, which were now prepared for her.
But that’s what everyone would expect. They’d think her tired and weak–exactly what she was. She couldn’t have that.
There was power in being underestimated, but there was greater power in a strong first impression.
Wren was all too aware of the workings of society.
She knew that her name had already made its rounds.
By coming to the dining hall this evening, she had given them something of merit to talk about alongside it.
“Do not fret over me, professor,” Wren said with a weak smile. “I am all right. I have shown my face and will head to my chambers in due time.”
Ivanhild’s forehead wrinkled. “You have been through a great deal of pain and trials over these weeks, Lady Kalyxi. I do not doubt your fortitude, but I must insist you rest soon.”
She’d thought that some time in Ivanhild’s office would help her regain her strength, but with Blossom and Ivanhild’s anxiety swirling around her at all times, she was unable to.
Wren grabbed her fork and picked up a few grains of rice to test her stomach.
She took a bite, the butter and fragrant spices strong in spite of the small amount on the utensil.
After another larger bite, Ivanhild’s worry abated from the forefront of her mind.
Wren continued to eat in silence, her appetite growing the more accustomed to the atmosphere she became.
She had finished half her plate and three-quarters of her wine when there was a sudden flurry of emotion and whispers. Her gaze lifted from her plate to find all eyes on a lovely young woman in a pale blue dress walking down the center aisle in Wren’s direction. Ivanhild turned and stiffened.
“Miss Callalily, the woman your brother was courting,” he murmured the warning.
Wren took another sip of wine, clutching her skirts with her opposite hand beneath the table.
Surely, Callalily would not make a public introduction so soon.
It was rash and unwise to do so in a sensitive situation.
Callalily must not have been taught such things, though, because she stopped at the end of Wren’s table and dipped into a curtsy.
“Lady Kalyxi, my sincerest condolences on the loss of your brother,” Callalily said at a volume that did not indicate a desire for privacy.
“I saw you and knew I must introduce myself so you could know you weren’t alone in your grief.
My name is Callalily Hullfield. I was betrothed to your brother before he passed. ”
Wren set down her goblet hard enough for the wine to slosh up the side.
Callalily immediately took Wren’s now free hand in hers as if they were childhood friends.
Wren clenched her jaw. Callalily was not grieving.
She was excited. Wren did not even need her Curse to tell her that, what with the flush in the woman’s cheeks and the smile on her rose-painted lips.
“Miss Hullfield, I ask that you would remove your hand from my person until we have made further acquaintance with one another,” Wren said in a low, tight tone.
Callalily dropped Wren’s hand as though it were a hot iron.
“My apologies, Lady Kalyxi,” she murmured.
“I appreciate your condolences, but as I am quite tired from my journey, I beseech you to save our introduction for a more proper time.”
Callalily nodded, embarrassment spiking within. “Yes, o-of course. Forgive me.” She curtsied once more, then scurried away and out of the room.
Wren felt Ivanhild watching her, along with everyone else in the dining hall.
“She was not wearing yellow,” Wren said as she stabbed a roasted potato with her fork.
“Perhaps she was unaware of the custom,” Ivanhild replied in a gentle tone.
“Someone does not become the betrothed of a future duke and not know the customs of his land,” Wren hissed. “She was lying.”
“Your brother never mentioned being betrothed, to be sure,” Ivanhild conceded. “But they were romantically involved. Perhaps in her grief, she has deluded herself into thinking they were more than a dalliance.”
Wren did not reply. She could not tell him that she knew Callalily wasn’t grieving.
He would think her paranoid or tired, likely both.
Maybe she was tired, but that didn’t blind her to the truth.
Callalily was using Heron’s death for her gain.
Wren simply had to determine if such a gain was significant enough to motivate the woman to murder.
While Callalily didn’t seem capable of such an act at first glance, Wren would not rule her out until the evidence proved her innocence.
“After you’re well-rested, you can send for the seamstress. You will need your uniform before classes begin.”
The Star of Adira was falling. They’d seen its slow descent on their journey. Soon enough, she would be trapped on this island, not to leave until next Eventide. Classes would begin, and so would her mission. She would need all of her strength and wit to get her through.
“You are very strong, dear. But to survive here, you will need to become much more than you are now.”
Anxiety spiked as the ambassador’s words came to mind.
He was correct about everything, and Wren despised him for it.
She had proven him right, too, when she fled from his office.
Oh, how she wished he were wrong. Wren wanted to be strong, but she feared that all of her might had died with her brother.
The only thing keeping her alive was the desire to bring him the justice he had given her. He deserved it, where she had not.
Wren’s stomach curdled as dark memories joined with the emotions of the dining hall to berate her senses.
“I believe I am ready to retire,” she told Ivanhild after she had dragged herself out of the abyss.
He dipped his chin. “Let us go. I will ensure Blossom finds your chambers.”
“Thank you,” Wren said in a small, quiet voice.
She stood and had to steady herself by placing her fingertips on the table. The food had helped, but the wine was a poor decision given her lack of proper sleep. She accepted Ivanhild’s arm and let him lead her out of the dining hall.
They passed Prince Castien’s table on their way to the door.
Wren glanced at him and found his dark eyes already looking at her.
She did not wish for his attention, but rather the opposite.
The more he studied her, the more likely he was to determine her true reason for being here and become defensive toward her.
She needed him off guard in order to expose his role in her brother’s death.
What would surprise him? The only thing she could think of was to smile.
So she did. Her lips felt numb, and the action was so foreign to her internal turmoil, but the subtle twitch of his brow indicated she had accomplished what she set out to do.
It was the first step of many to disarm him and unveil the truth.