Page 56 of Ocean of Ink
“High emotions can bring it about. Thinking of Heron’s death might have been the cause.”
Guilt wracked Kierana, and as a result, Wren.
“I’m sorry. I know bringing up swordfighting made you think of him. I should have been more careful.”
Wren shook her head. She tucked her hands under the blankets and sank her nails into her palms.
“No,” she gritted out. “I was tired and stressed from classes. Our conversation was simply the match that lit the brush.”
Kierana’s guilt abated. Wren hoped her friend would be calmer for the remainder of their time together, or else she might have to cut it short.
Another knock came, and Blossom entered, balancing a tray with a teapot, cups, and a small tower of sandwiches and cookies. Wren’s hunger was beginning to return, but she knew from experience that it was important to take things slow. Blossom set the tea service on the bedside table and prepared each of the women their drink and a small plate of treats.
“Would you like me to tell you what’s been going on while you’ve been recovering?” Kierana asked, hesitation in her voice. “I don’t want to upset you further, but if I were you, I’d like to know.”
Wren took a sip of her tea. While it might be unwise given her general well-being, she needed to be apprised of the goings-on if she was to venture out tomorrow.
“Tell me everything.”
Kierana sat cross-legged at the end of Wren’s bed. The warrior princess’s dress was scrunched around her legs, and the teacup she was taking sips out of made her look more dainty than Wren knew she was.
“Kelda was from a different clan than me,” Kierana began. Wren’s fingers tightened around her teacup as Kierana’s grief peppered her senses. “But I knew her. She was strong and kind and smart. I don’t know why anyone would want her dead.”
“Do you know what happened to her? Blossom gave me some details, but she was unsure of their validity.” And was likely holding back so as not to upset Wren.
Kierana picked at a small layered cake on the plate next to her.
“You know I am not one to mince words. Are you sure you wish to know?”
Wren took a sip of tea, followed by a calming breath.
“I don’t want to be uninformed,” she replied.
Kierana gave a resolute nod. “Very well. Her chest was cut open. The killer carved out her heart and put it in one hand, and a rose in the other.”
Wren flinched at the image. She thought of her brother, torn open and left for dead in the woods. Thought of his eyes–the same color as hers–devoid of life. Of him swathed in yellow fabric at the bottom of the Tides. Kelda’s fate was the same as his, but why?
“I’m sorry that you lost two people you knew in such awful ways,” Wren said in a consoling manner.
Kierana offered a meager smile in return. “She was a mere acquaintance, and your brother a friend. It is nothing compared to the loss you suffered.”
Kierana’s grief rose as she spoke. It was painful, but also comforting. For Wren doubted her new friend could feel that way if she had been the one to commit such terrible atrocities.
“Do you know the details of my brother’s death?” Wren asked Kierana after a moment of heavy silence. It was a question they had not broached before. Wren did not want anyone to be suspicious of her investigation. But now that there was another victim, it would look sensible for her to ask questions.
“I could be in the dark about certain aspects, but to my knowledge, there was no mention of a rose near his body. He was torn open–” Kierana paused, gathered herself with a breath. “But those who saw him claimed it looked to be the doings of a cryptura. Not a person.”
Wren tucked her knees to her chest beneath the blanket. She was not versed in patterns the way Castien was, but she didn’t think herself incapable, either. There wasn’t one to be found here. Her brother was outside the wall, Kelda in. His body looked to be ravaged, hers staged.
“Did they know each other?” Wren asked.
Kierana shrugged a shoulder. “I never saw them spend extensive time together. Perhaps they shared a class or sat at the same dining table, but nothing more than that. Your brother waskind to everyone, but he was not one to have a multitude of close friends.”
Wren shook her head, frustration rising.
“I don’t understand,” she confessed.
Kierana heaved a sigh. “Neither do I. The only similarity I can garner between them is their amiable personalities. Such character traits are rare at the academy, but not so much so that a killer would target those with it.”
