Page 34 of Ocean of Ink
The dark green complemented the black dress well, and the emerald necklace with matching earrings was a lovely choice on Blossom’s part. The ensemble was simple, but beautiful. Blossom dotted some rose-colored rouge on Wren’s cheeks and lips, then stepped away again.
“You look exquisite, Lady Wren.” Blossom smiled at Wren through the mirror’s reflection.
“Thank you, that’s very kind of you.” Wren returned her smile, though it felt a bit wobbly. “I suppose we should head to the dining hall if we are to take breakfast before classes begin.”
Blossom nodded. “I am ready to depart whenever you wish.”
Wren walked to the cushioned alcove where she had laid the bag she intended to carry to her classes. It was made up of soft brown leather the color of chocolate truffles. She had used it often to carry materials to and from Lord Floriant’s library when she was his apprentice. She pulled up the flap and ensured ablank journal, quill, and pots of ink were accounted for before heading back to the door to her chambers.
The brass candelabra protruding from the wall across from Wren’s chambers framed her figure in shadows. The candles were fresh, and the wax from the night before had been cleaned out of the basin below. Metal tinkling echoed down the hall as Blossom locked the door with a set of servant’s keys she kept in a velvet coin purse that hung from her waist.
The closer they got to the foyer, voices rose like a crescendo. Women in identical black dresses flitted about, followed by frantic lady’s maids trying to primp their mistresses’ hair or tie ribbons. Wren’s quiet morning was upended as the emotions of her peers bombarded her. Anxiety, excitement, bitterness, frustration, and elation all collided.
When she was six years of age, she climbed into one of her mother’s suitcases to hide from Heron during a game and got stuck. The space was so tight that every breath she took pressed her ribs to the walls of the case. Standing in the foyer felt very much like being trapped in that luggage. Only there was no way of being rescued. The Curse was intertwined with her soul. She’d have to stop breathing to rid herself of it.
“Good morning,” a woman with a much calmer demeanor than those around her stepped up to greet Wren. Her uniform lacked in colorful embellishments, but the black diamond the size of a fist that hung from a string of polished black pearls informed Wren that this student was not of a lower class. As did the various pearl bracelets on the woman’s black-marked arms.
“You are Lady Kalyxi, correct?” the woman inquired.
Wren’s gaze dipped to the bejeweled hilt poking out of a scabbard at the lady’s waist. Either she was well-versed with the weapon or wanted others to think she was. Either way, to openly carry a dagger was to make a statement.
“I am.” Wren bobbed a small curtsy. “To whom do I have the pleasure of meeting?”
The woman smirked, the burgundy rouge on her lips accentuating the expression.
“Kierana Tove. My father is the head of the Tove clan, though I am certain that holds little value amongst the posh company you keep.”
It was difficult to ascertain Kierana’s specific emotions as Wren was still gaining a mental foothold in the chaos of the house, but she garnered no intense contempt or hatred. A general ire for society was welcome in Wren’s eyes, so she did not mind if that was the case for Kierana.
“Those that I am oft surrounded by may not, but I do. I have read some of the history of Stonemouth. I admire how you uphold the ways of the ancients. Society would benefit from a return to the ancestral paths.”
Stonemouth was split into smaller regions organized by clans. If Kierana’s father was the head of his clan, then that made her akin to a princess, or at least a duchess. However, many nobles from morecivilized–as they liked to call themselves–islands believed those from Stonemouth to be more in line with the merchant class, or lower.
“For many islands, that would mean a dismantling of society altogether,” Kierana said.
Wren let out a short laugh. “Precisely.”
Kierana grinned and her green eyes crinkled up at the edges.
“I knew I would like you. Your brother was one of my favorite sparring partners. He actually challenged me, unlike most of the others.” She rolled her eyes.
Wren lost her breath for a moment. She hadn’t expected to hear about her brother, but it was more bearable to have him spoken of in a way that wasn’t directly related to his death.
“You knew him?” Wren’s voice came out weaker than she wished.
Kierana nodded, her grin fading to something a touch sad.
“He was a good man. He spoke of you often.” She gave Wren a stern look. “Which is how I know you shouldn’t be here right now.”
Wren and Kierana stepped into the morning mist, their housemates going before and behind them. The blanket of silence covering the academy grounds was ripped away as nervous giggles and conspiratorial murmurs filled the air.
“Heron explicitly said you would never come here,” Kierana continued their conversation from before as they walked the winding path to the assembly hall. Brown leaves fell around the women, disappearing into the thick fog, only to be revealed when feet trampled over them.
Wren cut her eyes at the warrior woman, unsure of where she stood with her.
“That was because he was the heir. His presence here negated a need for mine,” Wren said.
“Based on the intensity of his words, I felt that there was a weightier reason,” Kierana commented as she drew closer, her voice low.
