Page 87 of Ocean of Ink
“Have I made you uncomfortable?” Finn asked, his concern washing over her like cool water. “Forgive me, I only wished to increase your confidence before we entered the ball as I saw you were nervous.”
Wren shook her head. “No, please don’t apologize. I am nervous as you said, that is all. Thank you for the compliment.” Wren’s words were stilted. Despondence reared its ugly head within her. How would she accomplish anything if she couldn’t even withstand a compliment from a man?
Weak. She was weak and pathetic and unfit to do the tasks set before her. Tears stung the backs of her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away and held them in. She could not show any more frailty than she already had.
“Tell me if I cause you any discomfort this evening. It is the last thing I want as your friend, and I’d also like to keep my head attached to my body.”
A surprised laugh burst from Wren. “Whatever do you mean?”
Finn looked at her as if she were the preposterous one.
“If you think my cousin would not take a sword to my neck for you, then you are much less intelligent than I thought.”
Heat bloomed across Wren’s cheekbones.
“You are mistaken. Castien and I are classmates, perhaps friendly ones. He would do no such thing.”
“I did not say you were more than friends,” he replied with a smirk. “Whyever would I think that?”
Wren’s skin heated further, rivaling the burning lanterns above them.
“I regret accepting your invitation for this evening,” Wren mumbled.
Finn’s laughter filled the night air.
“The night is young yet, darling Wren. There is much fun to be had.”
Wren feared her idea offunwas vastly different from Finn’s.
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. Theymatched. 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 wastouchinghim. 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.
