Page 4 of Ocean of Ink
Castien Valengard thrived in calamity. While others succumbed to panic and hysteria, he was calm and controlled. This made him the one others sought when their world began to crumble. He enjoyed solving problems, but this was one that he’d rather not fall to him.
“All the reports I could find stated his torso was ripped open and his organs removed,” Castien’s cousin, Finnick Valengard, said as he entered the study.
Finn sat in the ornate chair across from Castien and propped his feet up on the glossy desk. Castien shot him an unamused look, but made no comment, as his cousin was not one to listen to him. Finn was one of the few students in the entire academy who didn’t cower before Castien. He supposed it was because they grew up together, but it could also be the fact that Finn seemed to lack any semblance of fear.
“There were no other injuries?” Castien asked.
“Oh, there were, I simply neglected to mention the very information you sent me to obtain.”
“Your sarcasm is unappreciated,” Castien drolled.
“As are your unnecessary questions,” Finn smirked and ran a hand through his messy blond hair. No matter how much he attempted to tame them, the locks always ended up standing on end from his constant tousling.
Castien pinched the bridge of his nose. Even his Gift could not make sense of what little evidence they had.
“Perhaps Kalyxi’s death was truly a terrible accident,” Finn suggested as he spun his emerald signet ring around his finger.
“Everyone knows not to go near the Whispering Woods. Heron was a third-year student. Why would he wander to the edge of the woods at night?”
The question was one Castien had asked himself several times in the weeks since Heron’s death. The lack of an answer kept him from traveling home to the Lucent Enclave during Eventide. As a member of the Obsidian Order, Heron was more than a dead student. Castien felt the unease of the Order growing. Members wondered if they would be killed next. He needed to put this matter to bed before unease turned into doubt of Castien’s leadership.
Such doubts would upset the careful balance Castien and the Inquisitors before him had shaped. Each student was hand-chosen by the Inquisitor. Sometimes the choice was based on merit, others on the usefulness of one’s Gift. Often, personal connections carried significant weight. Castien was the puppet master of it all, tugging on the strings of fate’s marionette. But he was not alone in his efforts. Every member had the opportunity to write their destiny as they wished. Deals made in the Order went on to shape whole nations. The agreements were made on the basis of loyalty and secrecy. Castien could not have his members questioning their stance on either.
“Maybe he wanted to die,” Finn commented. “He was taking Professor Ultarian’s history course. That alone has made me contemplate walking in the woods myself.”
Castien glared at his cousin. “A man is dead, and you’re making jokes.”
Finn sighed and placed his feet on the floor. “Neither of usknewhim. He’d only been in the Order for what, half a semester? All I knew was that he was good with a sword and infatuated with that flower girl.” Finn waved a hand. “What was her name?”
“Callalily,” Castien supplied in a tired voice.
He’d looked into the young woman, but she was as delicate and demure as her name implied. She’d spent the last two and a half weeks tearfully mourning in the arms of her friends. Heron Kalyxi had no enemies. He was well-liked by professors and students, though he kept to himself outside of Callalily. It stood to reason that Heron’s cause of death was entirely accidental, but Castien couldn’t accept that. His Gift wouldn’t let him. There was a loose thread. Castien intended to tug on it until the truth was unraveled.
“Heron was intelligent,” Castien said. “He would not wander into the woods without a reason. And until we discover it, the sanctity of the Order is at risk.”
“The Order trusts you. If you tell them he went mad and ran off into the woods, they’d believe you without question.”
“And if evidence to the contrary came out later?” Castien shook his head. “I have to be sure before I make any claims.”
“I think you’re following this because you hate unanswered questions,” Finn said.
A knock on the door paused their conversation.
“Come in,” Castien called.
The oak door opened, and Castien’s butler, Heathford, entered carrying a silver tray topped with a matching dome.
“Your dinner, Prince Valengard.”
Was it that late already? Castien must have spent hours poring over his notes and wracking his brain for leads. He’d anticipatedsuch an occurrence and had asked his butler earlier in the morning to bring supper to him. Students at the academy were allowed to take their meals wherever they pleased. Castien often took his in the dining hall for the sake of seeing and being seen, but today he needed to focus on the task at hand.
“Thank you, Heathford. You can set it here.” Castien gestured to the left side of his desk.
The tray made a soft clinking noise as it settled on the wood. Heathford then laced his hands behind his back.
“Would you like me to bring Lord Valengard’s dinner up as well?” Heathford asked. He knew better than to ask Finn, who always said yes, whether he was welcome or not.
Castien looked at his cousin and sighed. “Yes, bring it up. We are liable to be here for some time.”
