Chapter 21 Obsessive Tendencies
Castien pushed open the doors to the dining hall.
The room was a sea of black uniforms and sharp gazes.
Constant conversation kept the volume at a dull roar, but Castien knew better than to think that people were too distracted to be watching him.
His back was straight and his chin high as he surveyed the tables.
Wren had not yet arrived. She could take her breakfast in her room, but he doubted she would.
His theories about her were not yet founded, but she seemed to be someone who knew what it took to move successfully in society.
After he had catalogued the room, he headed toward his table, which was already full, with the exception of his chair.
Finn lounged in his spot across from Castien.
Calypsia was–unfortunately–in the seat to Finn’s left.
To the right of Castien’s seat were three Order members, Malaki, Eindar, and Alysia.
Next to Finn and Calypsia were two first-year students who Castien suspected came early to camp at his table.
Percilean was seated one table over, hunched over his journal.
Castien pointed at one of the nameless first-years. “You, leave.”
The man looked at his friend next to him, who widened her eyes and tipped her head away from the table.
“If you move quickly, perhaps I won’t banish you the next time you attempt to sit here,” Castien offered.
The man grabbed his tray and stood, his school bag falling into the crook of his arm as he did. He bowed. The contents of his tray tipped toward Calypsia, who squawked at him. He bolted upright and stumbled back, narrowly avoiding a student passing by the table.
Finn looked on with undisguised amusement, while Castien remained unimpressed.
“The Obsidian Academy is supposed to be a gathering of the greatest minds in all of the Seven Havens,” Castien drolled as he hung his bag on his chair and sat down. “How is it that I am surrounded by bumbling idiots?”
Finn placed a hand over his chest; the emerald on his Valengard signet ring glinted in the light.
“I take offense to that.”
Castien smirked. “You should.” He looked over and snapped his fingers. “Percilean, take your seat.”
Percilean’s head shot up. His glasses fell down his nose as they were often wont to do. He pushed them up, then stood and gathered his things to move himself to the spot Castien had made for him.
As Percilean settled in, Castien eyed the newcomer. “Who are you?”
The young girl cleared her throat and straightened in her seat. She wore her brown hair in a simple style, and she had very little in the way of embellishments. But her eyes were wide and alert. She sat there with a purpose.
“My name is Adalin Zeldair, of the Sleeping Islet.”
Castien’s brows raised. It was rare that students came from Sleeping Islet.
The island was minuscule in comparison to the rest of the Seven Havens, and there were no politics or military might to be found there.
Most of the residents were related in some form or fashion, and they lived in quaint villages.
Their formal decisions were made using a majority voting system since their population was so small.
Adalin had to be both incredibly intelligent and remarkably Gifted to be selected in spite of her homeland.
The academy claimed they chose students based on merit alone, but Castien had discovered quickly how false that was.
Students with royal bloodlines or significant political connections took precedence over those who were without.
The only exception to that rule came along in the form of extraordinary students that could not be ignored lest the sanctity of the academy be doubted.
“And your friend?” Castien questioned.
Adalin’s face turned pink. “My twin brother, Claud.”
Castien looked at Finn and waited for him to provide the information he knew his cousin had. There was no point in interviewing the girl if Finn already did. The others at the table watched the back and forth with interest.
“Adalin can copy anyone’s handwriting,” Finn provided. “She simply has to look at a letter and she can replicate the scribe’s hand on the first try.”
Forgery. That could prove useful.
“And your brother?” Castien questioned.
Adalin looked down. Finn smirked.
“He’s a farmer. Last year he grew the largest potato in all the Seven Havens,” Finn said, amusement lighting his blue eyes.
“I asked for him to be allowed to come with me,” Adalin said in a small voice. “We have never been apart our entire lives.”
“Yet you stayed when I had him leave,” Castien pointed out.
She met Castien’s gaze. “I want to be something more. I don’t want to spend my life on that tiny island. I am more than that.”
Castien nodded his approval. He respected those who went after what they wanted, even if it was detrimental to his own desires.
Perhaps Adalin would find an invitation to the Order under her door this semester.
Someone with that kind of Gift paired with her ambition would be beneficial to a great many projects. She would be popular, to be certain.
A hush fell over the room. Castien did not have to look at the door to know that Wren Kalyxi had entered. She would be the most talked-about subject on the island for some time.
He watched as she floated into the dining hall with an air of dignity and grace.
Her choice of company was unexpected. Kierana Tove’s arm was linked with Wren’s.
Kierana glared as she always did, but there was an edge to her expression today.
She wanted everyone watching to know that she was associated with Wren.
“She makes friends rather fast,” Alysia commented while looking over her shoulder at the pair.
“Kierana is not known to keep friends,” Eindar noted.
Finn leaned toward Castien and murmured, “Do you recall who used to spar with Kierana aside from us?”
Castien’s mind alighted with the connection. Kierana and Heron spent extensive time training together. They were both star pupils of Professor Ivanhild’s course, though Heron was the favorite due to his Gift.
“She could feel protective over her on Heron’s behalf,” Castien replied in a low tone.
Or, Castien’s Gift wrote in the air, Kierana could have killed Heron to take his place as the top of the class and now is reducing suspicion by positioning herself as a friend to Wren.
The theory didn’t line up with what Castien knew of Kierana’s character, but he couldn’t afford to rule her out yet. Finn’s gaze hinted that he understood what Castien wasn’t saying.
“I, for one, do not understand the obsession with her. She is unremarkable aside from her tragedy,” Calypsia said in a flippant tone.
“Has anyone discovered her Gift yet?” Castien asked, and all at the table shook their head.
“I can find out,” Alysia offered, and stood up from the table.
“That would be helpful,” Castien said as his breakfast arrived.
A mug of his favorite tea–Everleaf–was paired with a meal of salted steak, chopped potatoes, and eggs. He watched Wren over the rim of his mug as he took a sip. She sat down three tables in front of him, but because she faced his direction, he could still observe her.
Her pale blonde hair was pulled back from her face, and emerald jewelry sparkled against her smooth skin.
Each time he saw her, she seemed stronger and less subdued.
He wondered if that trend would continue or if it would dip once classes began.
His curiosities about her extended far beyond the investigation.
He’d spent the past few nights fighting against his Gift as it brought up her words over and over.
“What a privilege to have love be your greatest weakness.”
The danger of a Gift like his was that obsession came as naturally as breathing.
His mind could not be rid of Wren Kalyxi.
Her hesitant smile, the lilting melody of her voice, the way she chose her words so carefully, except for that melancholy confession atop her picnic quilt.
The worst of it all was that there was so much he didn’t know about her.
He despised the unknown in all situations, but his loathing was magnified here.
Wren could have knowledge of the Order. All members were sworn to secrecy, but there was nothing to prevent Heron from telling his beloved sister about them. Or writing in the journal that Castien had yet to get his hands on. He needed fresh intelligence, or else he was liable to go mad.
During his observance, Alysia made her rounds about the room before stopping at Wren and Kierana’s table. Alysia presented an amicable smile that Wren returned in kind. The two talked while Kierana ate her breakfast and glanced at them periodically.
All that time, he was aware that conversations were occurring at his very table. He simply did not care to be a part of them.
After a short chat, Alysia slipped away, stopping at one more table before returning to her former seat.
“I couldn’t get her Gift, but I do know her class schedule,” Alysia said before rattling off the itinerary. Her Gift was an exceptional memory. She used her ability more often than not for foolish gossip, but it came in handy for gathering intelligence.
“Sounds as though we will be seeing her around,” Finn said.
Castien had noted several similarities in their schedules. The first of which would be this morning’s class with Ambassador Westover.
Castien caught Wren watching them. Did she see through Alysia’s attempt at subtle reconnaissance?
Castien tipped his head in her direction as a greeting.
She copied him, which made Kierana loose her glare upon him.
He was not frightened of the warrior woman, though.
He gave her the same acknowledgement he had given Wren.
Kierana simply scrunched her nose in distaste and turned her attention back to her food.
“Do you know Kierana’s schedule?” Castien asked Alysia.
She set her teacup down and dabbed at her lips with a linen napkin. “Not all of it, but she did say she wasn’t in the Giftings course this year because she’s taking private training lessons from Professor Ivanhild during that time.”
Perfect. That meant Castien could observe and even interact with Wren without Kierana breathing down his neck. It also meant that Wren’s Gift would be exposed in the near future.
Castien’s heartbeat quickened at the idea of learning more about the mysterious woman who had shaken the academy with her presence.
The anticipation of being the one to unearth her secrets was thrilling.
To be the first and the best was a special kind of reward, and he anxiously awaited the day he would claim his prize.