Wren’s spine stiffened at the offer. It was too much from a stranger. No one could replace Heron. No one.
“That’s not necessary–”
Kierana cut Wren off. “Until I am confident you are capable of thrusting a sword into the heart of a man, I will watch over you.”
Wren was certain she would never be able to do something so violent and bold, so she supposed she was stuck with the woman for the foreseeable future.
Castien pushed open the doors to the dining hall. The room was a sea of black uniforms and sharp gazes. Constant conversation kept the volume at a dull roar, but Castien knew better than to think that people were too distracted to be watching him. His back was straight and his chin high as he surveyed the tables.
Wren had not yet arrived. She could take her breakfast in her room, but he doubted she would. His theories about her were not yet founded, but she seemed to be someone who knew what it took to move successfully in society. After he had catalogued the room, he headed toward his table, which was already full, with the exception of his chair.
Finn lounged in his spot across from Castien. Calypsia was–unfortunately–in the seat to Finn’s left. To the right of Castien’s seat were three Order members, Malaki, Eindar, and Alysia. Next to Finn and Calypsia were two first-year students who Castien suspected came early to camp at his table. Percilean was seated one table over, hunched over his journal.
Castien pointed at one of the nameless first-years. “You, leave.”
The man looked at his friend next to him, who widened her eyes and tipped her head away from the table.
“If you move quickly, perhaps I won’t banish you the next time you attempt to sit here,” Castien offered.
The man grabbed his tray and stood, his school bag falling into the crook of his arm as he did. He bowed. The contents of his tray tipped toward Calypsia, who squawked at him. He bolted upright and stumbled back, narrowly avoiding a student passing by the table.
Finn looked on with undisguised amusement, while Castien remained unimpressed.
“The Obsidian Academy is supposed to be a gathering of the greatest minds in all of the Seven Havens,” Castien drolled as he hung his bag on his chair and sat down. “How is it that I am surrounded by bumbling idiots?”
Finn placed a hand over his chest; the emerald on his Valengard signet ring glinted in the light.
“I take offense to that.”
Castien smirked. “You should.” He looked over and snapped his fingers. “Percilean, take your seat.”
Percilean’s head shot up. His glasses fell down his nose as they were often wont to do. He pushed them up, then stood and gathered his things to move himself to the spot Castien had made for him.
As Percilean settled in, Castien eyed the newcomer. “Who are you?”
The young girl cleared her throat and straightened in her seat. She wore her brown hair in a simple style, and she had very little in the way of embellishments. But her eyes were wide and alert. She sat there with a purpose.
“My name is Adalin Zeldair, of the Sleeping Islet.”
Castien’s brows raised. It was rare that students came from Sleeping Islet. The island was minuscule in comparison to therest of the Seven Havens, and there were no politics or military might to be found there. Most of the residents were related in some form or fashion, and they lived in quaint villages. Their formal decisions were made using a majority voting system since their population was so small.
Adalin had to be both incredibly intelligent and remarkably Gifted to be selected in spite of her homeland. The academy claimed they chose students based on merit alone, but Castien had discovered quickly how false that was. Students with royal bloodlines or significant political connections took precedence over those who were without. The only exception to that rule came along in the form of extraordinary students that could not be ignored lest the sanctity of the academy be doubted.
“And your friend?” Castien questioned.
Adalin’s face turned pink. “My twin brother, Claud.”
Castien looked at Finn and waited for him to provide the information he knew his cousin had. There was no point in interviewing the girl if Finn already did. The others at the table watched the back and forth with interest.
“Adalin can copy anyone’s handwriting,” Finn provided. “She simply has to look at a letter and she can replicate the scribe’s hand on the first try.”
Forgery. That could prove useful.
“And your brother?” Castien questioned.
Adalin looked down. Finn smirked.
“He’s a farmer. Last year he grew the largest potato in all the Seven Havens,” Finn said, amusement lighting his blue eyes.
