A series of gasps peppered the room, followed by a swell of murmurs. Castien looked up and stilled. A woman in a pale yellow gown stood at the main entrance of the dining hall. To her right was Professor Ivanhild, to her left a younger girl in a white frock with a yellow sash.Lady Wren Kalyxi.
Castien studied her appearance as she walked, or rather, glided, further into the space. She stood tall, her chin lifted in a way that denoted trained elegance. Her gaze floated about the room, not settling in one spot. There was a soft smile on her lips. She looked the picture of serenity, while her companions seemed the opposite. Ivanhild watched the surrounding people as though they were all criminals ready to strike instead of students he knew, and the lady’s maid kept glancing at her mistress as though she would keel over any second.
“She’s beautiful, is she not?” Alysia asked.
She was, but Castien did not say so. She reminded him of the yellow roses his mother used to cut in the garden. The petals were always wrapped tightly around one another when she brought them in. When Castien was young, he asked her why she cut them before they bloomed. She’d said it was so she could witness their beauty unfold before her eyes.
“Beautiful and strong,” Finn commented. “Either that, or she possesses some kind of Gift that gives her endless energy. Westover’s evaluation is not an easy task. To come to dinner afterward is a bold act.”
“Does anyone know of her Gift?” Castien asked, realizing he still lacked that vital information.
He watched as she turned to whisper something to Ivanhild. The professor replied, then Lady Kalyxi’s head turned toward Castien. Their eyes locked. Her steps did not falter, and he made no shift in his posture or expression. His Gift started writing over his vision. She had sought him out. Asked Ivanhild where he was in the crowd. She was examining him, but why?
Whatever the reason, he would need to determine it before her presence became a threat. While she didn’t look like someone to worry about, he knew better than to underestimate an enemy. And until proven otherwise, Wren Kalyxi was his enemy.
Every breath Wren took was a knife through her ribs. Her head spun and her muscles ached. Blossom rushed to the table Wren and Ivanhild occupied, setting down a dish of fish and vegetables. Wren’s stomach felt hollow. She hadn’t eaten since the bread and Everleaf tea she had aboard the ship that morning. But the emotions of all those around her attacked her with a vengeance that dampened her appetite.
When she first received her Curse at ten years of age, she could barely leave her room. Every little shift in her parents' and staff's feelings brought her to her knees. Over the years, she had learned how to manage the capability that plagued her. Her brother had helped her cope and even master the ability so that it could aid her in conversations, mostly the avoidance of unwanted ones.
However, all of her training had not prepared her for this. She was a boat without an anchor, adrift in a sea of others’ emotions. The sea was not kind either, it battered her nerves just as the Tides slapped against the hull of the ship she arrived on.
“Thank you, dear Blossom. You may take your meal as well,” Wren told the lady’s maid. Blossom curtsied and hurried toward the kitchens. Wren was sorry to have put the poor girl through so much, but neither of them had much choice but to endure.
She picked up the goblet of wine and took a sip. Her brother had cautioned her against dulling her senses, but he wasn’t here. She could have had strength if he were.
Ivanhild watched from across the polished oak table. His green eyes radiated concern. Perhaps she should have listened to him and taken dinner in her chambers, which were now prepared for her. But that’s what everyone would expect. They’d think her tired and weak–exactly what she was. She couldn’t have that.
There was power in being underestimated, but there was greater power in a strong first impression. Wren was all too aware of the workings of society. She knew that her name had already made its rounds. By coming to the dining hall this evening, she had given them something of merit to talk about alongside it.
“Do not fret over me, professor,” Wren said with a weak smile. “I am all right. I have shown my face and will head to my chambers in due time.”
Ivanhild’s forehead wrinkled. “You have been through a great deal of pain and trials over these weeks, Lady Kalyxi. I do not doubt your fortitude, but I must insist you rest soon.”
She’d thought that some time in Ivanhild’s office would help her regain her strength, but with Blossom and Ivanhild’s anxiety swirling around her at all times, she was unable to.
Wren grabbed her fork and picked up a few grains of rice to test her stomach. She took a bite, the butter and fragrant spices strong in spite of the small amount on the utensil. After another larger bite, Ivanhild’s worry abated from the forefront of hermind. Wren continued to eat in silence, her appetite growing the more accustomed to the atmosphere she became.
She had finished half her plate and three-quarters of her wine when there was a sudden flurry of emotion and whispers. Her gaze lifted from her plate to find all eyes on a lovely young woman in a pale blue dress walking down the center aisle in Wren’s direction. Ivanhild turned and stiffened.
“Miss Callalily, the woman your brother was courting,” he murmured the warning.
Wren took another sip of wine, clutching her skirts with her opposite hand beneath the table. Surely, Callalily would not make a public introduction so soon. It was rash and unwise to do so in a sensitive situation. Callalily must not have been taught such things, though, because she stopped at the end of Wren’s table and dipped into a curtsy.
“Lady Kalyxi, my sincerest condolences on the loss of your brother,” Callalily said at a volume that did not indicate a desire for privacy. “I saw you and knew I must introduce myself so you could know you weren’t alone in your grief. My name is Callalily Hullfield. I was betrothed to your brother before he passed.”
Wren set down her goblet hard enough for the wine to slosh up the side. Callalily immediately took Wren’s now free hand in hers as if they were childhood friends. Wren clenched her jaw. Callalily was not grieving. She wasexcited. Wren did not even need her Curse to tell her that, what with the flush in the woman’s cheeks and the smile on her rose-painted lips.
“Miss Hullfield, I ask that you would remove your hand from my person until we have made further acquaintance with one another,” Wren said in a low, tight tone.
Callalily dropped Wren’s hand as though it were a hot iron.
“My apologies, Lady Kalyxi,” she murmured.
“I appreciate your condolences, but as I am quite tired from my journey, I beseech you to save our introduction for a more proper time.”
Callalily nodded, embarrassment spiking within. “Yes, o-of course. Forgive me.” She curtsied once more, then scurried away and out of the room.
Wren felt Ivanhild watching her, along with everyone else in the dining hall.
