Guilty Conscience
Chapter forty-five
Lucianna considered herself to be an adaptable person.
In truth, she had no other choice, given her occupation.
When she was spying or stealing, she had to reorient often.
It was a practice she had grown used to over the years.
And yet, she had not quite figured out how to apply the same attitude to her relationships.
After her mother’s death, Lucianna’s entire family had shifted like the course of a ship.
Their destination was the same, but the path looked much different.
Where her father had once been gentle, he grew stern.
It was not that he deprived her and Damon of affection, but rather he withheld it more than he had prior to the loss.
Lucianna had struggled with the drastic shift in her environment.
She’d lost someone she loved dearly in a violent manner, and then her remaining caregiver’s demeanor changed, all in one fell swoop.
Not to mention the intense episodes of depression her brother underwent.
By the time she had gathered her wits and understood the landscape she was traversing, her Gift made an appearance.
That altered everything. Suddenly, she was carrying the weight of the Morrowe name as if she were the heir and not Damon.
There were a great many days lost to her memory, for she had floated through them in a haze. The separation helped her survive.
As a result of these experiences, combined with her father’s distrust of the general public, Lucianna had not formed any attachments outside of her father and brother. Their trio had settled into a familiar pattern that Lucianna had grown accustomed to.
The introduction of her husband unraveled all her work.
Lucianna watched Finnick leap back to avoid Castien’s sword.
He was smiling, but not nearly as widely as he had days prior.
And he did not goad the prince in the way she had recalled him do in the past, either.
This both perplexed and frustrated her. She had just begun to settle into this way of life.
Lucianna could count on her husband being incorrigible, and though his temper could be ignited, he seemed to handle her barbs with ease.
They argued, but there was an underlying understanding between them that they were to share a life together.
She did not know what this truly meant, but she had grown used to it nonetheless.
Until two nights ago, when he’d begun acting out of character.
He was quieter and more pensive. Wren and Castien took notice, too, but neither seemed to reach him.
Oh, he still teased her to no end, but there was something missing in his words.
The tone had shifted, and it made Lucianna uneasy.
On a journey as they were, she needed something familiar to anchor herself to, even if it was a silly rogue of a husband.
“Lucianna, would you mind speaking with me in private for a moment?” Wren asked, drawing Lucianna’s attention away from her husband.
She blinked a few times and glanced down at her now-lukewarm tea.
“I do not mind at all,” she answered.
Wren gave her a gracious smile and then stood from the table they were sharing with Cora.
Half the table was covered in afternoon tea, the other half in alchemy supplies.
The alchemist was bent over a miniature vial, adding black granules to the bottle with metal tweezers.
As it was clear that Cora’s focus was far from conversation, Lucianna was confused as to why the princess felt the need to step away.
Her stomach knotted at the thought of something being wrong.
Lucianna followed Wren into the captain’s quarters. She felt her husband’s gaze on her back, but she did not turn around to confirm the feeling. Wren closed the door behind them, then gestured to the chair behind the desk covered in parchment, half-melted candles, and ink pots.
“You may sit, if you like.”
Wren ventured over to the bookshelf and ran her fingers over the worn spines.
“I will stand, if that’s okay,” Lucianna replied carefully. She certainly wasn’t going to sit if the princess wasn’t.
Wren adjusted one of the books so the spine aligned with the others.
“I imagine you have heard of my Gift,” Wren began.
Confusion wrapped around Lucianna.
Her reply was slow and measured. “Yes, you are a storyteller. I have not read any of your tomes, but I have heard high praise.”
A faint smile pulled at the princess’s lips. She adjusted another book.
“Finn says we can trust you,” Wren ventured.
Lucianna’s brow wrinkled at the subject change.
“I don’t understand.”
She wanted to question the princess on exactly what Finn had said about her, but her intuition rose up and buttoned her lips. Wren was about to share something, and Lucianna would not delay her.
“I suppose it’s best to come right out and say it.” Wren met Lucianna’s gaze head-on. “My Gift is a lie.”
Shock rolled over Lucianna. She had been right to be suspicious!
“You see,” the princess continued, “my Gift is a kind of power that others see as a tool. Not even my parents know my true Gift, for my brother helped me conceal it from them.”
Lucianna recalled Finnick telling her about Wren losing her brother. Grief pricked Lucianna’s heart on her behalf. She couldn’t fathom losing her brother. Wren averted her gaze for a moment and drew in a breath.
“Only a few people in the entirety of the Seven Havens know the truth, all of which save two are Valengards.”
What could be so powerful that the princess would hide it as she did? Surely Lucianna’s suspicion of superior hearing could no longer be correct.
“And Finn said you could trust me with this secret?” Lucianna couldn’t help but ask.
Wren smiled a little.
“In truth, I asked him if it would help you to trust me, but I also had concerns over whether it was wise to share with you.” She shrugged.
“After our conversation, I pondered the idea, then decided it was worthwhile. Though I know it may still take time for us to grow close, I hope this helps. I should like another sister, as sweet Marina says.”
Lucianna was confused as to why the princess would want to be sisters. Perhaps it was merely about needing to be allies when they got to Grimhaven. For practicality’s sake, one should be able to trust their crew. But sisters? That seemed far past the standard crew relationship.
Wren let out an audible breath. “Well, I suppose there’s nothing left to do but say it: I am an empath. I can sense the emotions of those around me, within a certain vicinity.”
Another wave of shock rammed into Lucianna.
Dozens of different moments flashed into her mind in which she had thought her emotions concealed, but the princess seemed to notice them immediately.
The concerned looks, deft questions, and comforting comments over their time together suddenly made perfect sense.
“Oh,” Lucianna mumbled.
The princess chuckled.
“An apt reaction. I apologize that you thought your emotions more private than they are around me, but I imagine you can understand why I would hide a power of this nature.”
Lucianna nodded. Then another thought hit her: Finnick. All the times he’d flirted with her when Wren was near . . . Lucianna’s skin heated with embarrassment. Wren winced.
“Please do not be embarrassed,” she coaxed.
Lucianna startled, realizing that her past and present emotions were not hidden. Whatever stability she possessed after Finnick’s change in demeanor had been ripped away from her with this knowledge.
“I apologize, I am merely coming to terms with things,” Lucianna told her.
As the sound of a stranger’s voice hit Lucianna’s ears, guilt clawed at her burning throat. The princess had chosen to share a heavy secret with her. Finnick had endorsed her as trustworthy. And yet here she stood speaking with a voice that was not hers while hiding a tainted bloodline.
“You’re quite all right. I understand,” Wren murmured.
Her pale blue eyes were too curious, too observant. Lucianna was keenly aware that the princess likely felt her guilt. She needed distance and space to breathe.
“If you’ll excuse me, I—” Lucianna searched for the words. “Need a moment.”
She turned and rushed out of the captain’s quarters, leaving Wren alone. Lucianna felt evil for abandoning the princess after she had shared something so valuable, but she couldn’t meet her gaze.
“Lucianna?” Finn inquired after her.
She did not answer. Instead, she grabbed hold of the shroud and began to climb. When she arrived at the top, it still didn’t feel far enough away. The sensation of being watched did not leave her. She clutched her locket as her eyes burned.
“What do I do?” she whispered in her true voice.
The wind tore the words away and dried the tears now streaming down her face.
No answer came.