Chapter 33
Castien got to the library an hour earlier than his scheduled meeting with Wren.
He was restless, which appeared to be the standard for him as of late.
He’d had too little sleep and too much everleaf tea to be able to sit still for long.
There were no new updates on the investigation, aside from a rumor going around the dining hall this morning that there had been a note left with Kelda’s body.
Castien had not determined whether it had any credence or not.
It was not as though the academy was forthcoming with their information.
They had instituted an evening curfew, and there were guards posted outside of all the buildings, but they provided nothing more.
This made for fearful students and staff, which the academy attempted to combat by introducing normalcy in the form of regular class and mealtimes.
It did not work. Many students whispered over their meals this morning, and the servants’ quarters were rampant with gossip. None of which was helpful to Castien.
Since he had nothing of worth to latch on to, Wren had taken up residence in his thoughts.
So much so that he came to the library early in hopes that she would as well, and he could see her sooner.
While he waited for her arrival, he reviewed the notes he had taken during their first meeting, walked the entirety of the library twice, and had an unwanted conversation with a pandering first-year student trying to get in his good graces.
By the time Wren made her appearance, Castien had resorted to pacing the dark alcove.
He halted when he sensed he was being watched.
Wren stood at the edge of an aisle in between two towering bookcases.
Her hair was down today, and Castien felt ill-prepared for the sight.
The long blonde locks hung in loose ringlets.
Some pieces were pulled back from her face, tucked into shining pearl hairpins that matched the strand of pearls around her neck.
She wore a pink silk sash around the waist of her uniform today, as well as a matching cloak.
The ensemble softened her, but did not distract from the shadows beneath her eyes.
Fragile, he thought. She looked fragile. Castien forced himself to tamp down the swell of concern. Wren had written in her journal that she couldn’t sense his emotions. He wanted to keep it that way.
“I am not late,” she said in lieu of a greeting.
Castien’s brow furrowed. “I did not accuse you of being so.”
She gestured to him, pearl bracelets sliding down her arm. “You were pacing.”
“You must think highly of yourself if you presume that, despite all that has recently occurred, my pacing was about you,” Castien noted. He couldn’t let her know that he was thinking about her, that he hadn’t stopped since the day she set foot on the island.
Wren’s expression faltered. She shifted in place.
“Did you know her?” The question caught Castien off guard. He expected a biting remark.
“We were acquainted, yes,” Castien answered as he took his seat and gestured for Wren to do the same.
She sat down and busied herself with taking out her journal and inkpots. The candle Castien had lit before her arrival made her pale hair look luminescent.
“I heard you attended a ball together last year.”
Castien raised a brow. “Why did you ask if I knew her, then?”
Wren opened her notebook and glanced up at him through her lashes.
“I wanted to know if it was true.”
“I could lie.”
Wren’s expression turned annoyed.
“I hope you wouldn’t lie about such things.”
Castien leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “You’ve made it known your opinions of my character; it is shocking that you would dare to hope I’m honorable enough not to deceive you.”
“I endeavor to believe the best of people, though you test me often.”
Castien wondered if Wren believed her words. He read of how her inclination to hope had hurt her time and time again. Would she lose that light and delve into bleak cynicism after all she had been through?
“I tend to do the opposite,” Casiten confessed. “People must prove my poor opinion wrong to gain my respect.”
“I cannot fault you for that,” Wren said quietly as she twisted off the cap to one of her inkpots. “Given the recent events, it might be the best practice.”
The subject seemed to deepen the circles beneath Wren’s eyes. She took on a haunted look.
“Shall we turn our attention to our reason for meeting?” Castien asked in order to distract her from her thoughts.
Wren blinked a few times as though she was returning from a far-off place.
“Yes, yes, that would be good.” She dipped her purple quill in ink. “Perhaps we should begin with how your Gift affects your day-to-day life?”
“And here I thought you were going to give me lessons on how to behave around a lady,” Castien teased.
Wren’s skin flushed a light pink.
“I rather think such knowledge is gained by experience,” she replied primly.
Castien suppressed a chuckle. It was too easy to rattle her, and much too enjoyable as well. He had to be careful to keep his pleasure at bay so it didn’t become apparent to her.
“I will be sure to learn all that I can in our time together, then.” He watched her writing in the candlelight and imagined how she might have looked while penning the entries in her journal. “My Gift can be…invasive at times,” Castien answered her earlier question.
“Can you give an example?” Wren asked, her eyes not lifting from the page.
“Sometimes my focus drifts, since my Gift is always working in the background,” Castien gave a vague reply.
“Is it working as we speak?” Wren asked.
While it was not writing in the air at the time, Castien felt his Gift buzzing within him. It craved new information, whether about Wren or the case.
“It’s a part of me. There is no way to turn it off. Is yours the same?” he asked.
Her quill paused for a moment. He knew the true answer, but wondered what she would say about her false Gift.
“Yes, it is. The only break I get is when I’m asleep.”
Castien’s lips tipped up into a wry smile. “I am not afforded even that luxury.”
Wren’s eyes widened. “You strategize in your sleep?”
He hadn’t planned on telling her as much, but it was too late now.
There was a prick of guilt every time he thought of how the scales between them were unbalanced.
Usually, he relished in knowing more than someone else.
But when it came to Wren, he had this unexplainable desire to even the score somehow, even though he knew that it was too dangerous to do so.
“In a sense.”
Wren lifted her gaze. Her sapphire eyes pierced him. “Do you ever rest?”
The question sounded so sincere. As though she were asking him as a friend, and not because of an assignment. He thought of her journal again. The woman who wrote those words knew darkness as well as she knew her reflection. She would be able to withstand the shadows that he so often dwelt in.
He could tell her. He could tell her how, since the day he was born, he was set on a path of legacy.
When his Gift appeared, his father was the happiest Castien had ever seen him.
He could spill his soul and confess that from that point onward, he set to carve out everything that wasn’t useful in him.
How he sometimes felt he was barely human, yet worried that if his Gift were to disappear, he would be nothing.
Castien’s soul reached toward Wren like a flower to the light. Maybe… just maybe…
His Gift flashed words over his vision in quick succession, reminding him of the dangers, of how she couldn’t know his weakness because she might use it against him. He buried everything he considered saying, and by the time he answered her, he felt as if he were buried too.
“Oh yes,” he lied. “It doesn’t keep me from resting. Does yours?”
Wren watched him for a moment. Castien felt as though she saw right through him. He didn’t feel out of control of his emotions, but there was no way of knowing for sure. He reassured himself that even if she felt something from him, she would not know what to do with it.
“No,” Wren answered after some time. “I sleep well.”
It appeared they would each have to parse through the other’s lies for this assignment.