There was no one present that Castien did not already recognize. He made note of any changes in group arrangements. Five tables to the left of him was Callalily’s table. Every seat was full, and some had been pulled up to add to the crowd. She sat in the center of it all, dabbing at her face with a white handkerchief that coordinated with the shawl she wore atop a powder blue gown. Was it a show? Finn had absolved her of any guilt, but that did not remove the possibility of her using Heron’s death for her social gain. She could play the almost-widow card dealt to her and attempt to pull a prize out of her pain.
The scrape of a chair next to him drew Castien’s attention back to his table. Percilean sat down and placed a worn journal on the tabletop.
“How goes your latest invention, Perci?” Finn asked.
Percilean sighed. “I’m afraid that I could not much improve the structure of the pier without diving into the Tides, which Ihave been told that I am under no circumstances allowed to do.” Percilean looked at Castien, who issued the order.
“He’s a man,” Finn pointed out. “If he wants to die in the Tides, he should be allowed to do so.”
“I was entrusted with his care. Therefore, he is to stay on dry land,” Castien stated.
“I strengthened the joint where the poles meet the walkway with a new mixture of metals I concocted in the laboratory,” Percilean added. Judging by his tone, he was less than thrilled.
“That is an accomplishment to be sure,” Finn encouraged him with a gentle smile. “Perhaps you could contrive a device that could be lowered into the Tides without you having to go in yourself?”
“Perhaps,” the young man muttered, then flipped open his journal and retrieved the charcoal pencil from behind his ear. He began sketching and was lost to the world.
“Is this seat taken?” Castien’s gaze rose to find a member of the Order, Eindar, standing at the seat next to Finn.
Castien gestured for him to take the chair. Eindar shed his academy jacket and threw it across the back of the chair before sitting down. His white undershirt was tight around his arms, the black marks on his skin showing through. Eindar was from Stonemouth, and it was customary for men and women to be marked with black ink in patterns according to their clan when they became twelve years of age. It was said to be an incredibly long and painful process, which was a testament to the strength of the people, as was the extensive battle training they underwent.
“I assume you’ve already heard about the sister,” Eindar said.
Castien nodded. “What do you know?” There was no use in pretending he wasn’t interested. He would have to report to the Order about it at their meeting. It was best to use the resources he had.
“Very little. I heard she was here, and that she was seen leaving the assembly hall with Professor Ivanhild. She hasn’t been spotted since.”
Heathford appeared at the end of the table, to Castien’s left. He set down a silver tray. A fillet of flaky white fish sat atop a bed of rice. An array of roasted vegetables and lemon slices surrounded the dish. To the right of the plate was a goblet of red wine, to the left a glass of water. Castien rarely indulged in beverages that dulled his senses, but the appearance of drinking such a beverage made others feel at ease around him. The more times he pressed the rim to his lips, the looser the tongues of his companions, because they thought he was as weak as they were.
“Thank you, Heathford,” Castien said as a dismissal. The butler bowed, then retreated.
It was the responsibility of every lady’s maid and butler to deliver meals to their master, unless otherwise noted to the kitchen staff. Those of higher rank often received their meals first, but the quality was no different. The academy claimed to seek equality amongst students, but its efforts were trivial. The uniforms they were required to wear during the semester didn’t offset the favoritism nurtured by professors and the staff alike. Academy politics were just as brutal–if not more so–than court politics.
“She was in Professor Ivanhild’s office,” Percilean supplied while sketching a diagram of a pulley system. “I saw them from the windows of the laboratory.”
“Did you hear anything?” Castien asked.
Percilean shook his head, then pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up his nose.
“They didn’t say anything in the hall, then they closed the door.” He paused as he made a note, then shut his book. “She looked a little sickly, though. Her lady’s maid fretted over her quite a lot.”
“If she met with Westover, that would be enough to make her sick,” Finn supplied right as another person stepped up to their table.
Lady Alysia Fairweather, another member of the Order, awaited Castien’s approval. Alysia was a gossip to end all gossips. Usually, this would nudge Castien toward the side of disapproval. But today he could use her expertise. He nodded. Her lips stretched into a bright smile as she quickly sat down.
“Tell me what you know,” Castien directed without preamble. “Only what’s important. If you delve into nonsense, you’ll sit somewhere else.”
Alysia nodded, and the two auburn ringlets that framed her face bounced with the movement. Her dress was a dark green, the color of the seaweed that washed up on shore, and was made up of fine lace threaded with tiny pink pearls. While the academy uniforms were required during the semester, such rules were not enforced outside of that time. Some of the students took that as an opportunity to flaunt their wealth. Alysia was one of them.
“She got here this afternoon, and went straight to the headmaster’s office–”
Castien cut her off. “We know all of her whereabouts. Headmaster, Westover, Ivanhild’s office. Do you have anything else?”
Alysia leaned forward, her green eyes sparkling with excitement.
“I was just at Callalily’s table. She spent most of the time lamenting the loss of her first and only love.” Alysia rolled her eyes as though she didn’t believe the words. “But she said something intriguing before I slipped away. Apparently, Heron told her that Lady Kalyxi would never set foot on the island. Callalily was in shock when she heard, and said that Heron was liable to come back from the dead at the very notion of his darling sister being at our wretched academy.”
Castien’s Gift connected this fact to the journal that Callalily mentioned, along with Heron’s unusual intention not to return home during Eventide. Heron didn’t want his sister at the academy, but they were said to be close. This would mean that Heron had a reason for keeping her away. A reason she heeded until his death.
