Chapter 49
The ballroom was growing smaller by the hour.
Wren felt the walls of emotion pressing in on her.
What was once a tolerable wave of giddy excitement was now a dizzying concoction of jealousy, joy, desire, hurt, and more.
She had made it through dinner, but soon she would be required to dance.
Her heartbeat thudded in her ear. She hid her shaking hands beneath the table.
“Students of Obsidian Academy,” the headmaster raised her voice from the center of the room. A hush blanketed the crowd. “I am pleased to welcome you all to Adira’s ball. Tonight we mark the fall of her star, the end of Eventide, and the beginning of a wonderful journey together.”
Wren smoothed her damp palms down her skirts and hoped they would not leave marks on the delicate fabric. She felt Castien’s gaze on her, but she couldn’t meet his eyes for fear he would see through her.
“Queen Adira was a fine, noble woman. The only true love of King Arcturos, though she was lost too soon in their marriage. Her heroic sacrifice during the Great War of the Tides made the Seven Havens what it is today. As you dance the evening away, remember her, and ponder what it is to be a servant of those whom you lead.”
Headmaster Acanthia gave a slight nod, and the musicians got into position. Students and staff stood from their tables and reached for their dance partners. Wren’s stomach turned.
Finn stood and buttoned his coat, then presented his hand. “Shall we?”
Again, Wren felt Castien looking at her. She knew without a doubt that if she turned, she would see his dark, knowing gaz,e and she would break. Her fragile composure would shatter. That couldn’t happen. She needed to be strong.
She willed her hand not to tremble as she placed it in Finn’s. He led her onto the floor as the first notes filtered through the air.
Was that? No, it couldn’t be.
Finn stood across from her in a row of men. Women in exquisite gowns lined up on either side of Wren. Their anxiety built upon her own in a way that made her nauseous. The music grew louder, and Wren’s blood turned cold. No, no, no. Not this song. Anything but this song.
All around her, hands lifted to prepare for the first step forward. Wren’s movements were slow and clumsy as if she were in water. She blinked and she was no longer in the ballroom, but in a shadowy music room.
“Come, sit and play with me,” the monster said with a warm smile.
Wren’s dress flounced as she skipped to the piano bench. She smiled up at the monster, and he caressed her cheek in return.
“You are so beautiful, my perfect porcelain doll,” he cooed. “Play the song I taught you last week.”
Wren bobbed her chin, her ringlets bouncing. “Yes, Duke Aceran.”
She set her small hands on the keys and began to play. A soft, romantic tune filled the room. The monster hummed in delight beside her. His hands did not join hers on the piano. One settled on her knee–
Wren shook her head, trying to wrench herself out of the past. Finn’s hand grasped hers, but she did not feel or see him. The ballroom blurred around her like water spilled over a freshly penned letter.
The scent of tobacco filled her nostrils. She felt hands all over her. Raspy whispers. And that dreadful song playing and playing. Never fading away, no matter how much she plugged her ears or covered her head.
Then the shake of thunder. A crackle of lightning out the window. Heron, soaked in water, his white shirt bearing faint red streaks. A blade washed clean by the rain. A confession whispered into the stormy night.
Wren beat on his chest. “Why, why? I loved him!”
Heron held her to him, though she pushed away. Silent for so long. Never had he been so silent. Then, torrential agony ripped through her. Guilt and anger filled her mouth like acid. Not hers. Heron’s.
Wren’s chest rose and fell in rapid succession. Her feet moved, but not of her own accord. Her gaze frantically scanned the room.
“Wren?” Finn murmured as they met in the center. “Are you all right?”
Wren shook her head. Her words stuck in her throat like a clump of dry bread.
She broke away, her whole body trembling.
Without a parting word or curtsy, she rushed toward the nearest exit.
Her peers must have taken notice, but she was focused on her escape.
She burst into the hall and then ran to the front doors of the assembly hall. She fled into the night.
“Miss?” One of the guards standing watch took a step forward. Wren waved him away and started down the lantern-lit path. Her shaking legs only carried her a few more steps before she had to grasp hold of one of the wooden poles. Black dots danced at the edges of her vision.
The sound of the door opening again made Wren turn around. Castien ran toward her, stopping two paces away. In the distance, the song of Wren’s past played on, muffled but present.
“I-” she tried to speak, but a sob choked her.
Castien took a step forward, his hand lifting, then dropping.
“You don’t have to explain,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “Just breathe for me.”
Wren wiped beneath her eyes as she nodded. She stayed silent and drew in a few measured breaths.
“I have a bad memory associated with that song,” Wren murmured once she had regained her voice. “I feel foolish for running away. Finn must be cross with me for abandoning him.”
Castien shook his head. “He will not be angry, just worried, I’m sure of it.”
She did not deserve a friend like Finn. All he wanted was a dance, and she could not manage that.
Weak, pathetic, broken–
“I am sorry you were taken back to the past.” Castien’s voice broke through the darkness.
“I wish that a song could not have so much power over me,” Wren whispered.
Castien held her gaze. Seeing too much. Knowing more than he should. Yet never showing how he felt. Only with him was Wren allowed such a luxury as not to be subjected to his every emotional whim. How she wished she could know now, though. What did he think of her?
“We could make a new memory, if you’d like.”
The song was halfway over, the instruments rising to a crescendo that made Wren’s chest tight.
I want to be free, she begged her mind. Castien held out his hand.
Beneath the lantern light, she saw the gray smudge he had shown her at dinner.
A reminder of the words he had written to her.
They had shared an ocean of ink, a sea of parchment, all laced with secrets and memories.
Somehow, Castien Valengard had become the one person in the Seven Havens that Wren felt safe with.
Wren slid her trembling palm against his. His skin was warm and his grip strong but not too tight. She stepped toward him to close the distance. He hovered a hand near her waist.
“May I?” he rasped.
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. His hand settled against the dip of her waist. Warmth spread from his touch. A fluttering feeling came to life deep within her. Hers? His? She could not tell for how shaken she was.
“Just as we did on the training ground,” he murmured as he stepped back. She followed.
Her gaze was trained on the silver buttons of his black dress shirt. Castien did not force her to look up. He guided them in a simple dance beneath the floating lights. Wren shut her eyes. Lost herself in the easy sway. The predictable knowledge of his next step.
“I learned to dance at the same time Finn did.” Castien’s voice was soft, his tone gentle. Wren felt sheltered in the rise and fall of it. “Our mothers thought it would be good for us to learn together. They were wrong.”
A smile tugged at Wren’s lips.
“Finn flirted with the girls so much that the instructor made us dance together as punishment. I am not one to be embarrassed, but I was then. Every noble girl our age laughed at us for the rest of our lessons. I still haven’t forgiven him.”
Wren giggled at the story, her pain slowly dissipating.
In the distance, the song came to an end.
The tightness in her chest eased. She tipped her head back.
A ghost of a smile played upon Castien’s lips.
He regarded her with something in his expression she could not name nor feel.
She sensed he was holding back. It was in the careful way he touched her.
The lightness of his hand. And how he shifted his gaze above her head instead of meeting her eyes.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“I hope this will be a better memory than the one before.”
Emotion knotted in her throat. “Much better.”
His hands fell away, and he took a step back from her. He flexed his fingers before pushing his hands into his pockets.
“Would you like to return to the ball now that the song has ended?” he asked.
Wren looked at the doors. To go back inside after embarrassing herself did not sound pleasant, and though she was calmer, she had not quite settled her nerves entirely. There was also the matter of the hidden passageway.
“I can walk you back to your chambers,” Castien offered. “I will return and tell Finn you’re not feeling well and need to rest.”
She nodded. “That would be lovely, thank you.”
They started in the direction of her house. Castien did not offer his arm, which she was grateful for. Her emotions were tangled up within her, and she did not need any new sensations to analyze. Perhaps later she would be better equipped to parse through the events.
Their journey was silent, save for the wind rustling the lanterns and the brush of their feet on the grass.
Every few steps, Wren glanced at Castien.
He kept his gaze ahead. His jaw was tight, and again Wren suspected he was choosing to hold back his emotions, though she didn’t know why.
He wrote in his letter that feeling deeply stifled his Gift, but she couldn’t understand why he would need strategy at this moment.
She turned back ahead as they neared House of Adira.
There was no reason for her to analyze him so deeply. She was probably wrong anyway.
They climbed the steps together, and Wren stopped at the door.
“I can go the rest of the way by myself, but thank you. For everything.”
“It was my honor,” he said, the words stilted. He looked back at the maze of lanterns. “I should go before a search party is formed on our behalf.”
“Wait,” Wren said quickly. “Close your eyes.”
Confusion furrowed his brow. She smiled.
“Just close them. Trust me.”
She did not realize the weight of her request. Still, his dark lashes fluttered shut. Wren kept her eyes on him to make sure he didn’t peek as she lifted her skirts and grabbed hold of his letter.
“Now hold out your hand,” she instructed.
A wry smirk appeared on his lips, but again he obeyed. She placed the letter in his palm.
“Open.”
He blinked his eyes open and looked down.
“Where were you keeping this?”
Wren’s face heated. “It’s a secret.”
He met her gaze, still smirking. “I bet it is.” He tucked the letter in his jacket and took a step back. “I look forward to reading this after the ball, which I should get back to. Finn is no doubt wondering where his darling Wren is.”
She laughed and shook her head. “Goodnight, Castien.”
“Goodnight, Wren.”
He walked down the steps. She waited until he was a few paces away before calling out, “I prefer dearest.”
He stopped and turned around. She placed her hand on the doorknob.
“I prefer dearest Wren,” she said louder.
His smile was a flash of white in the dark.
“Me too.” The words floated to her in the wind. He did not wait for her to say anything more, but turned toward the assembly hall. She watched him walk until his figure got too small to make out, then turned and went inside.
Wren did not go to her chambers, though. No, she went into the drawing room and shut the door with a soft click behind her. She might have failed at the ball, but there was more important work to be done. Tonight was the night she would get answers.