Chapter 41 Perceived
The click of the door locking silenced the classroom.
Ambassador Westover’s shiny black leather shoes clicked against the wood floor.
He unbuttoned his black and white striped suit coat as he walked.
Beneath it was a plum-colored shirt buttoned too low to be considered decent for a professor.
Or anyone, for that matter. A golden clockface suspended by a matching chain gleamed atop his exposed chest.
“My dear students, I trust you had a productive week?” Westover asked, though he did not wait for an answer. “I will accept your essays as soon as I finish giving you your next task. Do pay attention, as this assignment is worth a fourth of your grade.”
Wren clenched her toes in her satin slippers as the anxiety of her fellow peers crawled over her like a swarm of ants. Castien did not so much as shift in his seat beside her. His cool gaze stayed trained on the ambassador.
“I will present each pair with a problem, and you must determine how to solve it with your Gifts.” Westover’s eyes gleamed.
“In two weeks, you will present to the class how you combined your Gifts to come to a solution. You will also write a detailed dissertation on the manner in which you arrived at your conclusion.”
A woman whom Wren had come to know as Adalin Zeldair raised her hand. She had done so the last time they were given an assignment as well.
“Yes, Miss Zeldair?” Ambassador Westover asked, all amusement leaking out of his voice.
“Will we each write a dissertation or write one together?” Adalin asked.
“Only one is required. The choice is yours whether to delegate the task to your partner, take it on yourself, or write it together,” the ambassador replied.
Adalin nodded as she wrote his words down. “Thank you, Ambassador.”
“Any other questions?” he asked as though he wished he didn’t have to.
No one was as brave as Adalin, or perhaps they thought the task simple enough. Either way, the ambassador’s delight was both seen and felt by Wren when no questions came.
“Very well then!” he clapped his hands together. “I will call you and your partner up to retrieve your assignment and accept your essays. After that, you may leave to work how and where you wish.”
Ambassador Westover sauntered to his desk and sat down in his plush desk chair. He cleared his throat, then began. Two by two, students submitted their essays and obtained a rolled slip of parchment tied with black ribbon.
“A fan of dramatics, isn’t he?” Castien mused under his breath.
Surprise rippled through Wren. Due to the attention they had recently garnered, she expected him to behave coldly to her until they were in private. Perhaps he thought they could speak in class and look the part of the partners they were.
“I could see him on a stage, to be sure,” Wren replied in an equally low tone.
They both faced forward, but Wren cut her eyes to the side to catch the faintest smirk on Castien’s lips.
“I think he prefers to play the puppeteer.”
Wren hummed in response. The ambassador did not appear malignant in nature, but he certainly swayed toward eccentricity. He favored entertainment over teaching. Even if she was truthful about her Gift, she doubted that this class would enhance it.
“Lady Wren Kalyxi and Prince Castien Valengard,” Ambassador Westover proclaimed as though they were entering a ballroom.
Wren and Castien rose from their seats in tandem. There were few students left, but Wren was keenly aware of their gazes. She had become accustomed to being watched since arriving at the academy, but the weight of such intense study of her personhood was still heavy.
“I am looking forward to reading your essays,” the ambassador said with a sly grin.
Wren slid her papers out of her bag and handed them to the ambassador.
He traded them for the miniature scroll, then took Castien’s essays next.
Wren noted his stack of parchment was much larger than hers.
How much had he written? Her gaze raked over the top page, but didn’t make out so much as a full sentence before the ambassador stacked her essay on top.
“Do not hesitate to reach out if you have any trouble. I am happy to assist.” His offer was made with the same feline grin that made Wren suspicious. She was certain his assistance would be more of a detriment. He’d likely deem sharing their greatest weaknesses helpful.
“Thank you, Ambassador,” Castien intoned, then stepped around Wren to head for the door. Wren followed him out, tightly clutching the strap to her shoulder bag in one hand, the unopened scroll in the other.
They went from the hall to the mist in silence.
Wren did not ask where they were going. The dark alcove called to her like a harpen.
Soon they would be alone. Not only could they speak freely, but she would be released from the shackles of her Curse for a few blessed moments.
Though her anxiety spiked when she considered her last letter, the relief at having a break from feeling overcame every other thought.
She walked faster down the foggy path to the library, gaining two paces on Castien.
“Eager to get me alone, Kalyxi?” Castien’s voice was silk brushing across her skin. The same unfamiliar swirl of warmth swept through her at the sound.
“These grounds have become more observatory than academic. I wish to be free from the burden of being perceived," Wren replied.
Castien closed the distance between them. His suit coat brushed the sleeve of her dress. On instinct, she stepped to the side. Space was good. Safe.
“Do you think I don’t perceive you?” Castien asked as the library’s serpent guardians came into view. Their red eyes gleamed. Wren felt as though they saw through her lies. Could Castien?
“You see me as a puzzle,” Wren answered as they climbed the stone steps. “They see me as an opponent.”
“Am I incapable of seeing you as both?” Castien opened the door. Warmth reached out a hand in welcome. Wren accepted the invitation and entered into the hushed sanctuary.
“I am not important enough to be your enemy,” Wren murmured as they wound through the shelves side by side.
They did not see many students on their journey, but Wren felt the sparks of surprise as they passed their peers. Castien did not speak again until they were alone. He struck a match and lit the candle in the middle of the table. Wren took her seat, setting her bag on the ground next to her feet.
“You are not my enemy,” Castien said as he sat down. His eyes found Wren’s. “But do not mistake yourself as insignificant when you are far from it.”
Wren could not make out the meaning of his words. She stored them away for further analysis later.
“Should we open the scroll and see where our fate lies?”
Wren held the rolled paper out. Castien’s dark gaze did not waver from Wren’s face.
His eyes pierced her for a breathless moment, the feeling in her stomach akin to when a ship crested a large wave, before he finally reached out to take the paper from her.
Their fingertips brushed. Light calluses against delicate skin.
A faint flicker stole through Wren. She stifled a gasp.
Was that from him? She centered all her focus on him, but felt nothing. Had she imagined it?
Castien unfurled the scroll. His expression was impassive. As stony as the Wall surrounding the academy. Her face grew warm as she recalled his palm against her lips. The same hand that had just gently brushed hers.
“One of your most trusted allies has betrayed you,” Castien read. “But you do not know which one. Combine your Gifts to determine who the traitor is.”
He looked up from the paper and into Wren’s eyes again.
There was a softness to his gaze that made Wren feel helplessly transparent.
As if he knew her every secret. She briefly wondered if perhaps he was the culprit who stole her journal, but if he had, then he would have done something to stop her investigation by now.
Like kill her beneath the moonlight at the Wall.
No one was around. His hand was over her mouth.
He was skilled with a blade. Yet he let her live and conversed with her as a friend since then.
No, Castien Valengard was not evil, loath as Wren was to admit it.
This investigation would be much easier if he were.
But he is associated with something dark, her mind reminded her.
She looked away. It was difficult to remember his possible connection to the Order when he looked at her that way.
Wren had spent her life starved for understanding.
Her brother had been the closest friend she ever had, and even then, she held back for fear of hurting him.
The longing for such a connection plagued her.
She wanted it desperately, but was also terrified of it.
“How are we–” Wren cleared her dry throat. “How do you suggest we go about solving such a conundrum, oh great Prince of Strategy?”
“I think I prefer when you call me your pompous prince,” Castien remarked wryly.
A smile tugged at the corners of Wren’s mouth. She stubbornly held it back.
“I was appealing to your vanity, but I can return to bruising your ego if it will motivate you to work,” Wren said sweetly.
Castien let out a dry chuckle.
“If you wanted to appeal to my vanity, then you should call me your dearest Castien again.” Wren’s head popped up. Her cheeks flamed.
“That was not a true endearment. It was to tease you,” Wren hissed.
Anxiety climbed her spine. She couldn’t have him thinking–
“As was my comment, Kalyxi,” Castien said with a smirk. “Don’t blush on my account. I am not important enough for such a gift.”
Wren felt as though she had stood in front of a hearth for too long. Her whole body was blazing hot. There were no other feelings for her to focus on but her own. That was usually a heady notion, but she found herself wishing she could escape into someone else’s emotions until hers dissipated.
“You are wretched,” Wren grumbled as she tugged on the sleeves of her dress. She had the urge to rip them off due to how unbearably warm she felt.
“So I’ve been told.” Castien dipped his quill in onyx ink. “With that in order, shall we get started?”