Chapter 48
Castien was surrounded by opulence. Glittering chandeliers hung above a polished ballroom floor.
Tables filled with delicacies, desserts, and fine wine framed the room.
The circular table he sat at was decorated with a crystal vase overflowing with an extravagant display of elegant blooms nestled in a pool of jewels.
His peers were in their finest gowns and suits.
The cost of the room’s ensembles alone would feed a village for months, maybe a year.
All around him was beauty, but his eyes did not leave the doors. He scarcely blinked while waiting for the woman who haunted his every thought and dream. Her presence was likely to undo him, but he craved it all the same.
“Castien,” Percilean’s voice made him blink. He found his charge standing in front of a chair, with a young woman whom Castien knew by name and title only. Lady Letta Barrowfield.
“Yes, Percilean?” he asked, returning his gaze to the door. Familiar faces entered, but none were hers.
“May we sit with you?”
Castien cut his eyes to Perci. “You know better than to ask such a thing. You’re always welcome at my table, Percilean. Your friend as well.”
“Thank you, Your Highness,” Letta said in a quivering voice.
Castien looked at her and dipped his chin.
She curtsied as if it were an impulse. Percilean tugged out one of the high-backed chairs surrounding the table and gestured for her to sit.
She sat down, then Percilean took the seat to her left.
Castien’s eyes narrowed. They matched. Percilean wore a simple black suit, but he wore a pale blue shirt beneath it that matched the shade of Letta’s dress.
That was too intentional to be attending the ball as friends, yet Perci had not mentioned courting anyone.
Castien was about to question their acquaintance when a wave of murmurs swept over the room.
His gaze lifted and found Wren immediately.
She stood at the head of the room, her hand on Finn’s arm.
Castien’s hands gripped the arms of his chair.
She was touching him. His jaw tightened.
He raked his gaze over her. Even from afar, she was a vision.
It was as though someone had captured a sunrise and wrapped her in it.
As she moved, the fabric caught the amber light of the chandeliers and refracted it like water.
Her hair was down, and when she turned to say something to Finn, Castien saw there were flowers woven into the locks.
Tides. She was an ethereal being spun of hope and flower petals. He could think of little but lying prostrate before her in adoration.
Wren caught him staring as she floated across the floor.
She gave him a shy smile that made his throat dry.
His control was in tatters. He hoped the emotions of their peers would disguise his own if they came to the surface.
Finn’s smirk was the only thing sharpening his senses into something usable.
“Cas,” Finn greeted with a tip of his obnoxious top hat. Castien caught Letta’s eyes widening at the familiarity shown. Percilean leaned over to whisper to her, and she nodded as he did.
“Finn,” Castien gritted out. Then he slowly shifted his gaze back to Wren. “Wren, it is good to see you.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You as well.”
“Shall we sit before dinner is served, darling Wren?” Finn asked.
Darling Wren. Castien looked down at the pressed linen tablecloth. He began working through a complicated equation he had read in a book before tonight. He was right to think he’d need it. Finn had gone too far. He knew what he was doing, Castien was certain of it.
The scrape of a chair to his left nearly startled him, for he was so concentrated on the equation his Gift scrawled in his vision. Wren sat down, the silky fabric of her dress billowing with the movement. A sweet scent washed over him; it reminded him of a stroll through the royal gardens.
Wren glanced over–a failure in subtlety–then looked down at her hands folded in her lap.
There was a soft grey smudge on her right hand that made warmth spread through Castien’s chest. He held his hand out under the table where no one could see but her.
There was a matching smudge that he hadn’t been able to scrub off while getting ready.
She turned her head toward him, and they shared a secret smile.
His heart soared. He felt the same way he had that day in the Watchtower.
A part of him wanted to run, and the other to stay forever.
“Where is your date, dear cousin?” Finn asked from the other side of Wren, breaking their moment.
Castien glared at Finn above Wren’s head.
“I came alone.”
“Is that so? How curious.” Finn’s eyes sparkled with mirth.
Over Finn’s shoulder, Calypsia prowled toward Castien’s table, talons hooked into Soren’s arm.
They stopped at the two empty seats left.
Calypsia laid a hand on the back of the chair next to Letta, a large sapphire glittering on her finger.
The jewel matched the tone of her dress, which was a vibrant blue accented by hundreds of tiny white pearls.
But the piece of her ensemble that drew the eye the most was the large, serrated tooth sitting in the center of her collarbones.
It looked to be from a cadral, one of the more dangerous creatures in the Heartless Tides.
Reckless merchants hunted them down and sold their meat and teeth for a hefty sum.
“Good evening, are these seats taken?” Soren asked in a forced baritone.
Castien raised a brow in question to Finn. He did not have reason to refuse a woman as high a rank as Calypsia, but he also didn’t particularly want her to sit with them.
“I’m afraid so,” Finn answered smoothly. “Two of our friends were having a conversation, but now they’ve come to join us.” He gestured to where Kierana and Eindar walked arm in arm, both equal in intimidation. The room parted around them.
Calypsia smiled, but her irritation was clear. Kierana was a princess in her own right, though likely Calypsia was one of those who thought otherwise.
Kierana’s smile when she approached was as much of a weapon as the daggers hanging from her waist.
“Calypsia, how kind of you to grace our table with your presence. Tell me, are you well?” Kierana let go of Eindar’s arm and set her hand on the same chair Calypsia’s hand was on.
“Quite, and you?” Calypsia responded tightly. She slowly removed her hand.
Castien glanced at Wren to get her reaction. She wore a small, satisfied smirk that almost made him chuckle. It was clear she had enough experience with Calypsia to be happy at her rejection.
“I’m wonderful. It’s a beautiful evening to spend with friends.” Kierana gestured to the servants entering the room. “It looks as though dinner is to be served, so we will have to catch up later.”
Calypsia took a step back and grabbed Soren’s arm again. He flinched slightly before painting on a smile.
“Enjoy your dinner.” The three words sounded akin to a threat.
Calypsia retreated to a table across the room, dragging Soren with her. Castien did not have Wren’s Gift, yet he still thought Calypsia’s anger was tangible in its strength.
“Dreadful creature,” Kierana said as Eindar pulled out her chair.
Letta’s eyes grew wide at the comment.
“You made her rather angry,” Wren commented.
Kierana scoffed. “She believes herself better than everyone else because of her father’s deeds. If she wants to impress me, she’ll kill her father and take his throne. Until then, I have no respect for her serpentine ways.”
“You’re scaring our guest,” Finn scolded Kierana while gesturing to Letta. Percilean rubbed her back soothingly, but said nothing.
“Oh, she should learn at some point.” Kierana met the girl’s doe eyes. “If you’re going to be a part of this circle, you need to learn to look past titles and see motive. Percilean may have a heart of gold, but that does not mean everyone does.”
Letta nodded frantically, face pale.
“I certainly do not,” Finn joked to lighten the mood.
“No, no, you don’t,” Castien said with a sharp look. All he got in reply was a grin.
Servants arrived at the table in a flurry of steaming bowls and polished silverware. They set down the first course, a lemon herb soup, then disappeared to prepare the next one. Everyone began to eat, but Finn did not grow quiet as the rest of the table did.
“Are you fond of dancing, Wren?” he asked.
Wren tensed in her seat, gripping her spoon tight.
Castien wanted to throw something at his cousin, likely his fist. He was playing games when he didn’t know her.
No one here did, not like Castien. There was a part of him that relished in that fact, but the other wished he could clue his cousin in so he would stop making a fool of himself.
“I confess it is not my favorite,” Wren replied quietly.
“Perhaps I can change your mind. People say I’m the best dance partner in all the Seven Havens,” Finn said with a winsome smile.
“No one says that,” Kierana deadpanned across the table.
Castien bit back a smile. Wren ducked her chin to hide her own.
“Judge for yourself when the music begins. I will dance with Wren first, then you may have the honor of dancing with me,” Finn said.
“No,” Eindar growled.
Castien’s brows lifted. Finn looked taken aback. Kierana seemed amused more than anything. She looked at Eindar.
“I may dance with whomever I please.” They shared a look that felt more charged than a swordfight.
Then, “Fine. One dance.”
A slow smile crept across Kierana’s face.
“So then it’s settled, we will have each other’s second dance,” Finn said.
“No,” Kierana said, still smiling at Eindar. “I only want to dance with Eindar.”
Eindar narrowed his eyes at her, but the corner of his mouth was lifted.
“In the future, do not drag me into your odd manner of flirting,” Finn grumbled.
“The way that you do with everyone else?” Wren said, surprising Castien.
His cousin smirked. “Precisely.”