Page 52 of Ocean of Ink
“I-I am missing a book,” Wren replied weakly.
“A book?” Blossom sputtered a laugh. “That is nothing to work yourself up over! Perhaps you left it in the library. Tell me of the title, and I will search for it on your behalf.”
Blossom smiled at her solution, but dread and fear tore at Wren. The search and subsequent devastation of not finding herjournal had sapped what little energy she had to spare. Wren’s eyes grew heavy. She slid down the headboard.
“I will look for it later,” Wren murmured as she began to fade again. “I don’t think I am so hungry after all. Forgive me, dear Blossom.”
Blossom’s soft smile blurred as Wren’s eyes fell shut. She vaguely registered the blankets being pulled up to her chin.
“Rest, and all shall be well when you wake again,” her maid’s voice whispered over her.
Wren wished with all her soul that it would be true, but she knew with sober certainty it was not.
Castien read a missive by light of the candelabra atop his desk with a scowl.
To whom it may concern,
The academy is grieved over the loss of beloved student Miss Kelda Thornspire. A thorough investigation of the circumstances surrounding her death is being conducted. Classes are to continue as scheduled while the investigation takes place.
Thank you,
Headmaster Acanthia
He scoffed. That communicated the academy’s priorities well. The murderer was certain to kill again before the insipid investigation party found them. Castien pushed the piece of parchment aside and snagged a fresh one from the stack on his desk. He dipped his quill in the pot of black ink at the top right of his desk. Next to the ink was a stack of half-used journals. Castien rarely wrote on every page in a journal before obtaining a new one. He found that his mind enjoyed the idea of somethingnew for each topic he addressed. Such habits didn’t make for a clean desk, though, which Finn and Heathford both abhorred.
Year 822, Week 36, Mira
Dear Lady Kalyxi,
Given that classes are to resume as normal, I believe it is prudent that we meet to discuss our essays. Meet me in the same spot I brought you to in the library at ten in the morning. I look forward to our conversation, as it is sure to be invigorating.
Best,
Castien
He folded the parchment, then heated a ball of wax inside a shell-shaped spoon over a burning candle. The red wax melted until it resembled blood. Castien tipped the spoon and let the liquid pool on the letter. Once it had partially set, he made a fist and pressed his signet ring into the wax. The Valengard coat of arms gleamed up at him in the light. With the letter now sealed, he stood and walked to the door where he knew Heathford would be posted.
“Heathford, deliver this to Lady Kalyxi in the House of Adira. On your way, call upon Finn and instruct him to come to my chambers.”
Heathford took the letter and bowed. “Right away, Your Highness.”
“Thank you,” Castien said with a tip of his head.
He returned to his room and shut the door behind him. It was nearing dinnertime, and all of the staff had been informed to keep students within their chambers until breakfast the next morning, but little else had been done to ensure that happened. All the ordinance accomplished was keeping students from taking their last meal of the day in the dining hall.
Castien surveyed his chambers. The wall to the right of the hearth was once again covered in pencil and ink. He had beenwriting what he knew of Heron and Kelda’s murders for much of the day. It was only when he received the letter from the headmaster that he thought of his classes at all. His mind had been occupied once more by the case, with Wren floating in the periphery of all his thoughts. She was as constant as the fog that blanketed the island.
He wondered how she fared and hoped he’d be able to tell by her letter. It would not be easy to return to class after experiencing what she had. Yet he knew intrinsically that she would. Though soft and delicate in many ways, her spirit was not easily broken.
Inspired by the anticipation of her writing, he walked to his desk and slid her journal out of the hidden compartment. He thumbed through the writings and paused on one of the rare joyful entries Wren made in the book. It told of a day spent with her brother out in the forest. They had honeycakes and freshly squeezed orange juice while sitting beneath the shade of an overgrown oak tree. If he did not know any better, he would easily believe that Wren’s Gift was storytelling. She had honed her craft in these pages, and he felt as though he was there with her. The way she painted with words made him long for a memory that wasn’t his.
He closed his eyes and tried to imagine what it would be like to sit beneath the sun with little worry but getting home before dark. Wren had plenty of troubles to plague her, but one couldn’t tell from this entry alone. She was simply a girl eating desserts in the sunshine.
It was in the midst of this daydream that Castien heard footfalls. Someone was coming up the stairs to his room. He closed the journal and placed it back in the compartment.
The door to his chambers opened without a knock of warning. Finn appeared, looking much refreshed after a time of rest. The darkness beneath his eyes was less prominent, and he waswearing a clean, pressed uniform. Castien glanced at the clock atop his desk. Had he really spent half an hour lost in Wren’s words?
“I had just awoken when I got word that you sent for me. Have you uncovered anything new?” Finn asked after he shut the door behind him.
