Page 79 of Ocean of Ink
His nickname falling from her rose petal lips caught Castien so off guard that the only response he could manage was a stilted, “Yes.”
Cas. She had called him Cas.His Gift wrote it in the air above her moonlight curls.Cas, Cas, Cas, Cas–
“So you confess our amity, yet won’t save me from a boring night by standing at my side,” Finn’s theatrical reply halted Castien’s spiral. “How can you call yourself a friend?”
Wren’s smile was barely contained, and Castien hoped it stayed that way. He did not want to have cause to loathe his cousin for pulling it from her.
“I presumed, given your nature, that your offer was presented only to tease me. If I was mistaken, and you wish to attend the ball asfriends, then I will accept.”
Finn’s delighted expression was as bright as the midday sun. Castien’s, on the other hand, matched the island’s current weather. Stormy and bitterly cold.
“If you do not find a more desirable suitor, it would be my greatest honor to accompany you,” Finn said with a genteel bow.
Castien knew his cousin enjoyed poking fun at him, but this was too far. Yet, Castien could not admit to such a thing to either of the people before him. It was torturous, and quickly soured his mood.
Wren dipped her chin. “The matter is settled then, and you can now depart from us, before your cousin takes to violence.”
Castien’s gaze snapped to her. Could she sense his anger? Or did she merely suspect it? He clenched his hand into a fist beneath the card table they sat at.Control yourself, he internally scolded.
“Ah, yes, he is often wont to do such a thing. I will take your advice and be on my way.” Finn shot Castien a wicked grin. “Enjoy your morning, cousin.”
Castien did not respond. Instead, he withdrew his supplies from his bag and set them on the table. Finn’s departure left Wren and Castien in silence, save for the unplugging of inkpots and the scrape of quill tips on parchment.
“How did you fare on the journey here?” Castien broke the silence when he felt sovereign over his emotions.
“I made it without freezing to death, but just barely,” Wren jested. “I am grateful you suggested this meeting location. The alcove would likely be miserable in this weather.”
“I thought so. The cold here is vicious. I have not experienced anything like it on another island.”
Wren ran her hands up and down her arms over her sleeves.
“Nor I. My lady’s maid is likely sick of fetching the kettle, for I find myself only able to feel warm enough while I drink tea.”
Castien stood. “I will call for tea, then.”
“Oh, no, that’s not necessary–”
He raised a hand. “It is no use trying to work while you’re uncomfortable. Besides, I am craving a cup myself.”
In truth, Castien had just finished a cup before coming down to the parlor and had no desire for refreshment. But there was a compulsion to see to Wren’s need that took him over. He stepped out of the door and found Heathford waiting. Most butlers occupied themselves with other tasks, but Heathford was known to be at the ready.
“Tea service for two, please, Heathford. Peppermint, not everleaf.”
The butler bowed. “Yes, Your Highness.”
Castien shut the door and returned to his seat.
“You shall be warm soon enough.”
Wren bestowed upon him a look of gratitude mixed with pleasant surprise.
“Thank you.”
Castien knew he should start in on the subject that brought her here, but a fiendish desire stole over him.
“So you are to attend the ball with Finn?” he asked.
“It would appear so.” She wrote the date at the top of her page as she spoke.
