Kierana touched Wren’s shoulder, and Wren jerked back so hard she fell out of her chair. Now on the floor, she curled into a ball. Her chest rose and fell in rapid succession. The objects in the room began to blur together and resemble spilled ink.
The drawing room door opened as Wren was on the brink of consciousness. She could not see through her tears, and she could not move for fear it would cause her to empty the contents of her stomach onto the floor.
“What is going on here?” A shrill voice exclaimed. “Seize her!”
Footsteps pounded near Wren’s head. She shut her eyes against the battering in her skull.
“What?” Kierana’s confusion and fear spiked. Wren curled further in on herself and let out a pained moan. “She’s sick, please, you must help her!”
“What did you do to her?” the shrieking woman demanded.
Shadows fell over Wren as someone knelt down beside her. She did not open her eyes to see who it was.
“What is the meaning of this? Unhand me! I have done nothing wrong,” Kierana shouted.
“A student was just found dead, and we have come in to find you in a compromising position. You are now in the custody of the academy until further investigation can be conducted.”
Panic, sharp as a dagger and hot as a brand, speared Wren. She could not even cry out, for she was too overtaken by it all. There was no relief. All she could do was lie motionless on the floor as her senses were attacked.
“Lady Kalyxi?” Blossom’s familiar voice broke through the clamor. “Tides!” she exclaimed. “Do not crowd her, she is obviously ill!” Blossom’s voice took on a commanding tone foreign to her usual reserved demeanor.
“We are apprehending a suspect!” the shrill voice from before scolded.
“My lady,” Blossom murmured, and Wren felt her near. “Is this similar to what occurred after your brother’s passing?”
Wren attempted to nod, and she hoped that the minuscule movement would suffice, for there was no strength left in her body.
“Lady Kalyxi sometimes experiences these bouts of illness,” Blossom said in a vague tone that would elicit pride in Wren if not for her current state. “I require assistance getting her to her chambers. She will need to be alone to recover.”
Wren did not want anyone to touch her, but her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She had no control. The vulnerability was terrifying. She simply needed space to come to her senses.Listen to Blossom, she begged internally.
“Very well,” someone sniffed. “You may escort her to her room. But we will be questioning Miss Kierana given the circumstances.”
“Under what circumstances?” Kierana demanded. “I have been with Wren since dinner.”
Wren blinked open her eyes just in time for her world to spin as she was lifted off the ground. She let out a pitiful mewl.
“But she is not capable of confirming that,” a different voice said as Wren was carried away.
She longed to cry out, but felt herself slipping further into the darkness that had crept into her mind. Her desire to be free of the agony overcame the want to help Kierana. She let herself be enveloped in the arms of unconsciousness.
Castien took a sip of his everleaf tea and watched Headmaster Acanthia over the rim. It was his fourth cup since reading Wren’s journal and the events that followed. Dawn had come and gone in the time since, though one could not tell given the ever-dreary state of the island. Castien recalled Wren’s disdain for the weather, and it drew his mind back to her. Was she all right? Had she heard the news? Discovered that her journal had been stolen?
“You attended Adira’s ball with Miss Thornspire, did you not?” the headmaster asked.
“Yes, I did,” Castien answered in a neutral tone. He set his tea next to the breakfast tray Heathford had brought to the parlor. The headmaster and a few other professors had been interviewing students in the parlor since they arrived a handful of hours prior. Finn had gone before Castien and hadn’t seemed the slightest bit ruffled by the experience. But Finn could don a mask just as well as Castien. He simply smiled more than Castien.
Next to Castien’s tea was a thick slice of bread smeared with butter. Beside it were small pots of various jams and honey. The amber liquid made him recall Wren’s journal. She wrote of her love of honeycakes. It was one of the few positive things she noted. He had never tasted one, but reading her description made him crave the sweet pastry.
Castien forced his attention back to the matter at hand. He needed to focus, but it was difficult with thoughts of Wren constantly tugging at his mind.
“Were you two courting?”
Castien resisted the urge to scoff at the pathetic questions in this interrogation. He had witnesses confirming his presence in his chambers for the entire evening, and no known connection beyond a few dances with the victim. They were wasting time by talking to him, both his and theirs.
“No, we were not. We went to the ball to please our families, but remained distant acquaintances after that.”
Castien leaned over the table in front of the burgundy sofa he sat on and drizzled honey over his toast. He wanted them to see how unaffected he was. It was a dangerous card to play, because if he wastoononchalant, they’d be suspicious, but if he cared too much, it would have the same result. He wanted to be out of the academy’s eye so he could conduct his investigation in peace.
