By our agreed-upon definition of secrets, you should know I cannot share them with you. I don’t trust that you won’t use them for your own gain. Please don’t take offense. I think that of everyone.
I could make an exception, however, if you wanted to trade. A secret for a secret?
Always your pompous prince,
Castien
Ps. I do not know how you managed to slip your letter into my notebook during battle strategy class, but I commend you for your creativity. This is proving to be quite fun.
Year 822, Week 36, Cordelia
My dearest Castien,
Do you think that if I don’t write your title that you will cease abusing it? Or will this incite your taunting all the more? I suppose I will discover in your next letter.
It is most unfortunate to discover you drink everleaf tea. I only do so on desperate occasions. It is positively atrocious. Peppermint tea is far superior.
In regards to dueling class, I will not give up, mostly because I cannot. You asked for a secret, and I shall give you one. I do hope you will keep your end of the bargain.
I made a deal with my father in order to attend the academy. I have to be at the top of our class, or else I will face less than favorable consequences. There. A secret for a secret.
Your turn,
Wren
Ps. I was surprised to find your letter on my evening tea tray. I wonder, did you put it there, or Heathford? I hope it wasyou, as I rather enjoy the image of you placing it there when Blossom wasn’t looking.
Castien pushed shaking hands into his hair and tugged on the ends. He stared at his bedroom wall with apprehension curling through him. It was only her. All of it. Every line, every letter, every sketch. Wren covered the wall. Every moment was interrupted by thoughts of her. When he took his tea, he thought of how she hated it. When he sparred with Finn, he wondered if she had recovered from her soreness. When he looked up at the sky, it made him think of her favorite color and how she must miss not seeing it each day anymore.
In less than an hour, he would go to giftings class where he would turn in the essay about her that lay on his desk. He’d rewritten it four times. Not because he didn’t have enough to say, but because he had too much. Ambassador Westover would be delighted, but Wren would not. Her journal bled into every sentence. After going through concerning amounts of parchment and ink, he managed to write an essay that gave enough to show he had made an effort but not so much that it would tell the ambassador things he didn’t deserve to know.
Castien hoped that it would be sufficient to garner a high mark. His gaze strayed to the top corner of his terrifying masterpiece, where he wrote Wren’s secret. He couldn’t believe she’d given him a secret. Castien paced in front of the wall. He had learned long ago to expect the unexpected. His Gift aided in that. It was rare that anyone moved outside of the pattern he determined they fit in. But Wren seemed to laugh in the face of Castien’s Gift.
“Why would you take the risk?” he asked the pencil sketch of Wren he’d pinned to the wall.
He hadn’t drawn in years, but after seeing Wren’s neck at the tip of his blade during dueling class, Castien was overwhelmed with the urge to capture the look in her eyes. He failed and cursed the Tides more than once in the process. Still, the best of the sketches ended up on his wall with the rest of the details he had collected.
A sharp knock at the door made Castien jump. Heathford entered the room, a letter in hand, but this one had a black seal instead of Wren’s lavender one. Castien’s mind drifted as he questioned why she used purple wax if she preferred the color pink. He forced his mind back to the present when Heathford cleared his throat.
“An invitation, I believe, Your Highness,” Heathford intoned.
Castien crossed the room and took the paper from his butler. He tore it open without care and confirmed Heathford’s statement.
PrinceCastien Valengard of the Lucent Enclave,
We hope you will join us in the assembly hall on the eve of next Adira for Adira’s ball. Dinner will be served, and there will be music for dancing.
The academy dress code is lifted for the evening, as is the curfew. There will be guards stationed around the hall who will ensure that all students may safely enjoy the festivities.
Thank you,
Obsidian Academy
So they were continuing to pretend that they had everything in hand. Castien shook his head and handed back the invitation.
“Will you be attending, Your Highness? If so, I will ensure that one of your suits is pressed and ready for you.”
“I will be in attendance,” Castien said and turned back to Wren’s wall. “Thank you, Heathford.”
