Page 66 of Ocean of Ink
I should like you to know that I have caught your letter just as I was leaving for dinner. However, I have decided to withhold my reply until late this evening so that you are forced to endure the same fate you sought to bestow upon me.
It is rather intriguing, your use of different color ink while writing, though not as interesting as your proclivity toward secrets. Do you find it difficult to keep so many, or does it come naturally to you?
Furthermore, you wrote that I could not afford your words, yet you share them so freely with me. Does that mean I have found favor in your eyes? Such news gives me hope that I will one day garner enough of your affection to earn a story from a Gifted writer.
Your pompous prince,
Castien
Castien’s letter was all the more accurate after their encounter at the Wall. Wren should despise how he called out her secrecy, but she found it…comforting. He asked questions, but did not force her to answer. In fact, he seemed to find it entertaining when she didn’t. As if they were playing a game of Tidesmark and she had played an unexpected hand.
Wren slipped out of her bed again. She was too afraid to sleep, so she would write instead. If she had her journal, she might have chosen that, but it was gone, and she could not risk starting another. All that she had was a letter to Castien. She carried the candle from her bedside to her desk. The flame illuminated the window in front of her and showed a haggard reflection.
The circumstances around her brother’s death were bleeding the life from her. She wasn’t sure how much longer she would be able to go on, but she had to try. Heron had protected her, had saved her from her mistakes. This was her penance.
Wren wiped her tears with the backs of her hands, then pulled a pot of purple ink toward her and wet her quill with it.
Year 822, Week 36, Avisa
My pompous prince,
It is not that I have inclination toward secrets so much as I have a disinclination toward trusting others. Given your cryptic answers during our meeting at the Wall, I am disposed to think you the same. Unless, that is, you plan to disclose your reasons in your next letter?
You are fond of logic and puzzles, so I will present an intriguing inquiry: What makes something a secret? If it is merely information not given to others, or only given to a select few, then I will admit to holding on to a great number.
But I have always thought secrets to be something more. Words that should be spoken, yet are held back. I could go about my days never telling anyone my favorite color is the rosy shade of the sky at dawn, or that my favorite flower is a peony, but are those secrets if there’s no risk? I think not.
By either definition, I must confess, I carry many with me. Do yours grow heavier by the day? Forgive me if I have become too somber. I am writing when I should be sleeping.
In secrecy,
Wren
Castien stood at the head of the room, his gaze rolling over the members of the Obsidian Order like a storm cloud. The tension in the room was a cryptura breathing down his neck. He knew what everyone was thinking:Who will be next?For the only similarity between Heron and Kelda was that they were members of the Order. Paranoia was liable to get the best of them all if Castien didn’t put a stop to it.
Finn entered at the back of the room, Percilean by his side. Castien breathed a little easier at the sight of his charge. Perci was known to lock himself in a lab or his chambers for days at a time. He’d forego classes, which Castien would scold him for more if not for his brilliance.
“Let’s begin,” Castien projected his voice across the room.
Those present halted their whispering conversations and faced forward. The room they were meeting in was akin to an oversized parlor. Members congregated around dark wood card tables, crowded onto tufted couches, and sprawled across plush rugs. It was rare that the room went unused for a day. Those in the Order often disappeared underground into the dimly litroom to socialize and make deals. Discussions in this place weren’t small talk. They were battles of wit and agreements that would shape the future of the Seven Havens.
“I am aware that many of you have concerns about the recent events at the academy,” Castien said to start. “Let me first set your mind at ease by informing you we are not waiting on the headmaster’s investigation party to discover the villain who has killed two of our own. I myself am conducting an investigation.” Castien let his gaze settle on a few particularly concerned faces. “I will not rest until this matter is put to bed. Whoever committed these heinous crimes will be exposed, then turned out into the Whispering Woods to face the demise they brought on their victims.”
Castien paused to let his words sink in. He did not want to believe it possible, but the murderer could be in this very room with them. Castien wanted to make it clear what he would do when he found them, and if it angered them enough to come after Castien himself, so be it. He would enjoy taking them down.
“Do you have any leads?” Malik asked. He sat in a chair that his large stature dwarfed. His expression was somber as always.
“There are some threads to be pulled,” Castien answered vaguely. “But I’m afraid that the details of my work must remain confidential to protect my efforts from being compromised.”
“Does that mean you think it could be one of us?” Alysia asked from her seat on a nearby couch.
“I am not ruling anyone out, and you shouldn’t either.” Castien stared down the room. “All of you took an oath of loyalty and secrecy when you became a member of the Obsidian Order. However, none of us should be so naive as to think oaths are never broken.”
Castien paused again, his words getting caught in his throat.Do yours grow heavier by the day?Wren’s musings about the nature of secrets stole his concentration. He worked to regain it.
“Question everything,” Castien continued after a moment. “But do not disrupt the sanctity of the Order with your paranoia.”
Murmurs broke out amongst the various groups sitting together. Finn watched Castien from where he leaned against the wall at the back of the room.
