Page 92 of Ocean of Ink
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.
Castien raked his hands through his hair as he neared the assembly hall. He felt as though he had drunk too much everleaf tea. There was a humming, buzzing feeling spreading from his chest to his limbs.
The way her waist felt beneath his palm–
He swiped a shaking hand over his lips. It took every ounce of control in his body to bury his every thought so deep the light couldn’t reach it. The very person who threatened to undo him was also the one he couldn’t afford to see him undone.
Wren had looked so broken. Castien had watched it all from his seat. Jealousy burned hot in his throat until he saw her face, and worry quickly doused the flames. When she ran out, he didn’t think; he ran after her. The look in her eyes was haunting. As if she’d come face to face with a cryptura or something worse.
That was what gave him the strength to hold back. To measure his breaths, count their steps, and use every method he knew to keep his feelings out of her reach. If she was hurting, she didn’t need his emotions adding to hers. She deserved to have a safespace to feel her own emotions. It was the least he could do for her after all she had been through.
Castien walked up the assembly hall steps and nodded to the guards. They had done little in the way of protection. If Castien were the murderer, he could have killed Wren with ease. Perhaps they had Gifted memories like Alysia and were keeping track of everyone who came and went, but somehow he doubted that.
A swell of music and voices greeted Castien as he entered the ballroom for the second time that evening. Couples danced to a lively tune, while friends chatted over desserts and wine. Finn spun Adolin on the dance floor, but when he caught sight of Castien, he passed her off to Malaki. The two fell into a clumsy dance, and Finn met Castien next to their empty table.
“Is she all right? Did I do something wrong?” Finn asked, concern painting his features.
Castien let out a heavy sigh. “She’ll be okay after a night’s rest. It wasn’t your fault.” He speared his cousin with a sharp look. “However, your scheming tonight was not appreciated.”
“I’ll admit I may have crossed the line,” Finn said. Castien narrowed his eyes. “But it was only because you were being a fool.”
“Me?” Castien asked, voice incredulous.
“Yes,” Finn sounded exasperated. “You are infatuated with the woman, and yet you let her believe otherwise. You see too much to be blind to your own feelings.”
Castien drew near and hissed, “You do not know anything about myfeelings. You speak too freely, cousin.”
“I speak the truth,” Finn countered. “If you wish to deny it, so be it, but know that it is obvious to those who pay attention what Wren means to you.”
“It does not matter what you think, anyway,” Castien said and stepped back again. “Nothing will come of it.”
“Judging by the way you ran after her, something already has.” Finn looked over his shoulder. “I must go rescue poor Adolin from a clumsy Malakai, but we can discuss this more later.”
“We won’t speak of this ever again,” Castien groused.
Finn grinned in reply and headed back into the midst of the dancers. The room was warm and bright, but it felt dull and cold without Wren present. Castien stuck his hand into his coat and felt her letter. What was the point of staying here when he could read her words? It is not as though anything but asinine conversation was in store for him. He had made his appearance for the evening; there was nothing left worth sticking around for.
Decision made, he headed for the door again, this time carving a path along the wall so as not to draw attention.
“Valengard,” a voice hissed behind him.
He paused and looked over his shoulder. Kierana and Eindar stood before him, faces flushed from dancing. Castien turned to face them.
“Where is Wren?” Kierana demanded.
