Chapter 44 Taste of Jealousy
Castien entered the parlor to a scene he had predicted: Finn sitting across from Wren, a teasing smile on his face.
Due to the frigid weather, Castien suggested to Wren in his last letter that they meet in the parlor of the House of Arythes.
It was not uncommon for women to call upon the men who lived in the house, but it was unusual for Castien to accept a guest. He preferred the privacy of the alcove, but the parlor was smaller and better heated.
Finn’s presence was one he would have to tolerate.
His cousin lounged in a wooden chair across from Wren, wearing a pressed academy jacket and a feline grin.
While Wren sat as demure and beautiful as always.
Her posture was elegant, and her ensemble was without fault.
She was adorned in red accents today. A silky sash was tied around the small of her waist. She wore matching ruby jewelry and rare red pearl hairpins, pulling back some of the curls that usually framed her face.
The rest of her hair flowed freely down her back.
Even her complexion seemed to coincide with the theme, as her lips were painted the color of cherries and her cheeks were flushed from the proximity to the hearth.
“Cousin, how wonderful of you to join us,” Finn proclaimed in a genial manner. “I was just inquiring of Wren whether or not she had a companion for Adira’s ball.”
Castien did not so much as raise a brow, though his heart jumped in his chest.
“You cannot be provoked to curiosity, I see,” Finn smirked. “Very well, I shall not give you the answer since you won’t ask the question I prompted.”
Castien glared at his cousin, whose demeanor matched that of the Valengard crest: a fox.
“Are you not to meet with Alysia?” Castien asked.
“We have already solved our problem. It was quite easy. I don’t know why the ambassador gave us so much time.
Alysia has decided to write the dissertation, as she memorized everything we spoke about.
” Finn’s eyes glinted with mischief. “I take it Wren’s presence here means you have not yet found a solution? ”
Wren watched the two men with bright eyes. Castien wondered if her good humor was due to them or something else.
“No, we have not, so I’d prefer if you left us. We need to work,” Castien grumbled.
Finn stood and buttoned his coat with a chuckle that bordered on maniacal.
“As you wish, dear cousin. I have matters of import to attend to anyway.”
Castien wore a flat expression until Wren’s gentle laugh softened his demeanor. He sat before her and soaked in the amusement painted across her face.
“His matters of import are procuring a date to the ball because I rejected his invitation,” Wren said, laughter dappling her words like sunlight through the treetops.
Finn placed a hand over his chest in a dramatic fashion.
“Lady Kalyxi, you wound me greatly. How could you embarrass me so? In front of a man of royal rank, no less!” he lamented far too loudly.
“I thought we disposed of rank upon becoming friends?” Wren asked, mirth sparkling in her blue eyes. It was all Castien could do not to lose himself in the shimmer of them. “Isn’t that right, Cas?”
His nickname falling from her rose petal lips caught Castien so off guard that the only response he could manage was a stilted, “Yes.”
Cas. She had called him Cas. His Gift wrote it in the air above her moonlight curls. Cas, Cas, Cas, Cas–
“So you confess our amity, yet won’t save me from a boring night by standing at my side,” Finn’s theatrical reply halted Castien’s spiral. “How can you call yourself a friend?”
Wren’s smile was barely contained, and Castien hoped it stayed that way. He did not want to have cause to loathe his cousin for pulling it from her.
“I presumed, given your nature, that your offer was presented only to tease me. If I was mistaken, and you wish to attend the ball as friends, then I will accept.”
Finn’s delighted expression was as bright as the midday sun. Castien’s, on the other hand, matched the island’s current weather. Stormy and bitterly cold.
“If you do not find a more desirable suitor, it would be my greatest honor to accompany you,” Finn said with a genteel bow.
Castien knew his cousin enjoyed poking fun at him, but this was too far. Yet, Castien could not admit to such a thing to either of the people before him. It was torturous, and quickly soured his mood.
Wren dipped her chin. “The matter is settled then, and you can now depart from us, before your cousin takes to violence.”
Castien’s gaze snapped to her. Could she sense his anger? Or did she merely suspect it? He clenched his hand into a fist beneath the card table they sat at. Control yourself, he internally scolded.
“Ah, yes, he is often wont to do such a thing. I will take your advice and be on my way.” Finn shot Castien a wicked grin. “Enjoy your morning, cousin.”
Castien did not respond. Instead, he withdrew his supplies from his bag and set them on the table. Finn’s departure left Wren and Castien in silence, save for the unplugging of inkpots and the scrape of quill tips on parchment.
“How did you fare on the journey here?” Castien broke the silence when he felt sovereign over his emotions.
“I made it without freezing to death, but just barely,” Wren jested. “I am grateful you suggested this meeting location. The alcove would likely be miserable in this weather.”
“I thought so. The cold here is vicious. I have not experienced anything like it on another island.”
Wren ran her hands up and down her arms over her sleeves.
“Nor I. My lady’s maid is likely sick of fetching the kettle, for I find myself only able to feel warm enough while I drink tea.”
Castien stood. “I will call for tea, then.”
“Oh, no, that’s not necessary–”
He raised a hand. “It is no use trying to work while you’re uncomfortable. Besides, I am craving a cup myself.”
In truth, Castien had just finished a cup before coming down to the parlor and had no desire for refreshment.
But there was a compulsion to see to Wren’s need that took him over.
He stepped out of the door and found Heathford waiting.
Most butlers occupied themselves with other tasks, but Heathford was known to be at the ready.
“Tea service for two, please, Heathford. Peppermint, not everleaf.”
The butler bowed. “Yes, Your Highness.”
Castien shut the door and returned to his seat.
“You shall be warm soon enough.”
Wren bestowed upon him a look of gratitude mixed with pleasant surprise.
“Thank you.”
Castien knew he should start in on the subject that brought her here, but a fiendish desire stole over him.
“So you are to attend the ball with Finn?” he asked.
“It would appear so.” She wrote the date at the top of her page as she spoke.
“And here I thought you harbored no affection for him.”
Wren’s head snapped up. “Did you not hear our conversation? I am to accompany him as a friend.”
The reassurance was sweeter than honey. He craved more.
“It is all right to admit his Gift overtook your senses,” Castien said with a smirk.
Wren pinned him with a glare. “I have mistaken your generosity this morning for kindness. I see now that was foolish of me. You merely sought to give me a false sense of security before insulting me.”
Castien noted the furrow of her brow and the way she gripped her quill a touch too tightly. Had he upset her? The notion that she cared so much was an intoxicating one.
“Forgive me,” he entreated. “I endeavored to tease you, not insult you.”
She looked down at her journal.
“No, forgive my overreaction. I do not wish to be seen as someone with so little control over their own mind, that's all. If you truly thought me fallen to Finn’s charm–” she shook her head instead of finishing her sentence.
“I could not think you without control, given our previous exchanges,” Castien spoke in a low tone. Wren’s gaze lifted and burned into him. “I was truly just teasing you–calling back to our first meeting as partners–but it was in poor taste.”
The taste being of a bitter jealousy born out of the image of Wren on Finn’s arm instead of his.
Wren’s gaze softened. “I will not harbor any ill feelings then. Though you should know, I did not see that first conversation as amicable either. I was quite cross with you.”
A smile tugged at Castien’s lips as he recalled how her eyes had flashed in the shadowy fog.
“You said you would write in your essay that I was unpleasant to work with. Did you?” Castien asked.
Wren looked toward the hearth. “I did not.”
“So you changed your mind?”
She pressed her lips together. The drawing room door opened, and Heathford pushed in a wooden cart topped with a tea set. Wren said nothing more on the subject, instead opting to ask a question about their assignment. Castien let her change the topic, for he didn’t need an answer to know the truth.