There had to be a deeper reason. Perhaps Kelda was associated with the Order, just like Heron. But Wren had no way of knowing that. She couldn’t ask Kierana. She was stuck figuring things out on her own. In the past, she relished being alone, but in the midst of this fear and grief, a part of her wished she could have a friend to help. There were too many risks, though.
“You’re certain neither of them possessed enemies?” Wren questioned, hoping her inquiry was not too suspicious.
Kierana met Wren’s gaze. “I did not say that.”
Wren’s heart began to pound behind her breastbone. There was a fierce look in Kierana’s gaze that made Wren wonder what her friend had seen and done.
“No one attends the academy without making an enemy,” Kierana added. Wren’s heart rate slowed.
“But you don’t know anyone specifically?”
Kierana eyed Wren. She would need to be careful from here on out.
“No. If I did, I would report them to the headmaster immediately,” Kierana said in a pointed tone.
Wren nodded as if she would do the same. The Falconroot hidden in a nearby trunk said otherwise.
“Do you know how the investigation is going? Do they have any leads?”
Kierana shook her head. “They’ve interviewed students–myself included–”
“I am sorry for that, also,” Wren interrupted. “That must have been difficult.”
Kierana huffed. “It was more ridiculous than difficult. They wasted their time on me. Though I suppose their suspicion was slightly warranted, given that the killer could be anyone. Student, teacher, butler, maid. I think the whole ordeal has the headmaster too on edge to be productive.”
Wren’s stomach twisted with anxiety. The idea that a killer could be walking the halls of their house right now had struck a match of fear in her. The academy expected her to ignore it. To move on while they handled things behind the scenes. But it would be difficult to do so with the unknown lurking above her like a cryptura ready to devour her whole.
“I do not trust easily,” Kierana broke the eerie silence. “So I have not lived on the Whispering Isle feeling safe and comfortable, but there used to be a balance to things. Everyone knew where they stood. The threats were always political, never physical. Now…” she traced the rim of her cup. “Now the balance has shifted. There’s something in the air. I worry what it will mean for the future, even after the murderer is brought to justice.”
Wren’s brow furrowed. Kierana’s anxiety swirled like a maelstrom.
“What do you mean?”
Kierana lifted her emerald gaze.
“There was an understanding between students that you did whatever it took to get to the top,within reason. If one of us is killing the other, that understanding is lost.” She paused. Wren’s stomach bottomed out. “I fear that if this is not handled properly, the Whispering Isle will look more like a Grimhaven arena.”
Kierana didn’t need to say more than that. Wren understood. If something wasn’t done, this island would be drenched in blood.
Castien got to the library an hour earlier than his scheduled meeting with Wren. He was restless, which appeared to be the standard for him as of late. He’d had too little sleep and too much everleaf tea to be able to sit still for long. There were no new updates on the investigation, aside from a rumor going around the dining hall this morning that there had been a note left with Kelda’s body. Castien had not determined whether it had any credence or not.
It was not as though the academy was forthcoming with their information. They had instituted an evening curfew, and there were guards posted outside of all the buildings, but they provided nothing more. This made for fearful students and staff, which the academy attempted to combat by introducing normalcy in the form of regular class and mealtimes. It did not work. Many students whispered over their meals this morning, and the servants’ quarters were rampant with gossip. None of which was helpful to Castien.
Since he had nothing of worth to latch on to, Wren had taken up residence in his thoughts. So much so that he came to thelibrary early in hopes that she would as well, and he could see her sooner. While he waited for her arrival, he reviewed the notes he had taken during their first meeting, walked the entirety of the library twice, and had an unwanted conversation with a pandering first-year student trying to get in his good graces.
By the time Wren made her appearance, Castien had resorted to pacing the dark alcove. He halted when he sensed he was being watched. Wren stood at the edge of an aisle in between two towering bookcases. Her hair was down today, and Castien felt ill-prepared for the sight. The long blonde locks hung in loose ringlets. Some pieces were pulled back from her face, tucked into shining pearl hairpins that matched the strand of pearls around her neck. She wore a pink silk sash around the waist of her uniform today, as well as a matching cloak. The ensemble softened her, but did not distract from the shadows beneath her eyes.
Fragile, he thought. She looked fragile. Castien forced himself to tamp down the swell of concern. Wren had written in her journal that she couldn’t sense his emotions. He wanted to keep it that way.
“I am not late,” she said in lieu of a greeting.
Castien’s brow furrowed. “I did not accuse you of being so.”
She gestured to him, pearl bracelets sliding down her arm. “You were pacing.”
“You must think highly of yourself if you presume that, despite all that has recently occurred, my pacing was about you,” Castien noted. He couldn’t let her know that he was thinking about her, that he hadn’t stopped since the day she set foot on the island.
Wren’s expression faltered. She shifted in place.
