Page 53 of Ocean of Ink
Castien gestured to his bedroom wall. The two of them crossed over layers of patterned rugs to get closer to the wall of theories.
“I had Heathford inquire amongst the staff about the events. He was able to speak with the gardener who found Kelda and discovered that there were also bruises on her neck. She was likely strangled before her heart was removed,” Castien detailed with a somber grimace.
Finn read what Castien had written so far, then asked, “So you think it was someone she knew?”
Castien nodded. “Either that, or she was attacked while walking alone. I believe it’s most likely that she knew the killer enough to be alone with them.”
“I know Kelda spent time with Eindar, as they’re both from the same clan,” Finn noted. “It’s hard for me to believe he would kill her, but I know we cannot rule anyone out.”
“We’ll observe him, and perhaps you can strike up a conversation of cards in the next couple of days.”
“Consider it done.” Finn crossed his arms and continued to scan the wall. “I see you didn’t find much of a connection between the two murders.”
Castien sighed. “No. The fact that they were both cut open, presumably post-death, is something of import, but it is still too different. We can’t know if Heron was cut open or torn by the mimicta.”
“Considering the likelihood of Eindar being the killer is slim, I’m afraid we have next to no leads.” Finn turned towardCastien. “I notice you haven’t included many details about Wren up here. Was there nothing of use in the journal?”
Finn’s gaze was too keen. He knew Castien was obsessed; that’s why he brought the journal in the first place. But Castien feared that his concern for Wren had been assigned a misconstrued meaning by his precocious cousin. He did not want to deal with Finn’s ridiculous theories as to why he cared.
The truth was very simple, though Finn would not believe it if Castien told him. Wren Kalyxi had been an enigma, and still was in a great many ways. Her arrival on the island caused Castien’s Gift to latch on to her, and he had no expectation of it letting go. Along with his Gift’s inclination toward her was the responsibility to protect her, which he now felt. Finn had given Castien a piece of Wren’s soul, and that was not to be treated lightly. He would guard what he had as though it were his, because now it was.
“Nothing that gives us any leads or knowledge about the killer,” Castien replied in a stoic tone.
Finn’s answering grin annoyed Castien before he even opened his mouth.
“You are not normally so cryptic with me, dear cousin. Are you hiding something? Perhaps I shall ransack your room next.”
Castien shook his head. “Do you have anything of value to contribute to this conversation?”
“My presence is of immense value, just ask every woman who has ever enjoyed it,” Finn quipped.
Castien opened his mouth to hurl an insult at his cousin when a knock sounded at the door. It opened, and Heathford stepped into view.
“A letter, Your Highness,” he pronounced.
Castien crossed the room in quick strides. He took the piece of parchment from Heathford and studied the seal. Lavender waxwas stamped with the symbol of a tree. He did not open it right away, though his desire to was great.
“Thank you, Heathford.” Castien turned to his cousin. “You are dismissed.”
Finn gaped. “I have not yet been here for even an hour and you are forcing me out? You are worse off than I thought.”
Castien glared at the implication. “Go find someone to interrogate, or throw rocks at Alessia’s window. I do not care so long as you are not here.”
Finn wrinkled his nose. “Alessia has fallen out of favor in my eyes. I have not yet decided who to gift my company.”
“Go make your decision elsewhere. I will see you tomorrow.”
“You are quite rude, you know. I do hope the one whose letter you possess teaches you to be more hospitable,” Finn said, mirth dancing in his blue eyes.
“Out.” Castien pointed at the door with the letter.
“Yes, yes, as you wish, Your Highness.” He gave a mocking bow as he passed Castien and headed out the door.
Castien rushed to his desk as soon as his cousin was out of the room. He opened the missive, careful not to rip the letter or disturb the seal, and drank in the words.
Year 822, Week 36, Mira
Prince Valengard,
