“And here I thought you harbored no affection for him.”
Wren’s head snapped up. “Did you not hear our conversation? I am to accompany him as afriend.”
The reassurance was sweeter than honey. He craved more.
“It is all right to admit his Gift overtook your senses,” Castien said with a smirk.
Wren pinned him with a glare. “I have mistaken your generosity this morning for kindness. I see now that was foolish of me. You merely sought to give me a false sense of security before insulting me.”
Castien noted the furrow of her brow and the way she gripped her quill a touch too tightly. Had he upset her? The notion that she cared so much was an intoxicating one.
“Forgive me,” he entreated. “I endeavored to tease you, not insult you.”
She looked down at her journal.
“No, forgive my overreaction. I do not wish to be seen as someone with so little control over their own mind, that's all. If you truly thought me fallen to Finn’s charm–” she shook her head instead of finishing her sentence.
“I could not think you without control, given our previous exchanges,” Castien spoke in a low tone. Wren’s gaze lifted andburned into him. “I was truly just teasing you–calling back to our first meeting as partners–but it was in poor taste.”
The taste being of a bitter jealousy born out of the image of Wren on Finn’s arm instead of his.
Wren’s gaze softened. “I will not harbor any ill feelings then. Though you should know, I did not see that first conversation as amicable either. I was quite cross with you.”
A smile tugged at Castien’s lips as he recalled how her eyes had flashed in the shadowy fog.
“You said you would write in your essay that I was unpleasant to work with. Did you?” Castien asked.
Wren looked toward the hearth. “I did not.”
“So you changed your mind?”
She pressed her lips together. The drawing room door opened, and Heathford pushed in a wooden cart topped with a tea set. Wren said nothing more on the subject, instead opting to ask a question about their assignment. Castien let her change the topic, for he didn’t need an answer to know the truth.
Wren’s ears rang with the constant clash of metal on metal around her. Blades sliced and arced through the fog as students sparred with one another on the dewy grass of the training ground. In their black uniforms surrounded by mist, Wren thought her peers resembled umbran, shadow-like cryptura known to lurk at the edges of one’s vision. Creeping, lurking things that moved out of sight as soon as one turned to get a better look.
“Are you paying attention?” Kierana grunted as she lunged at Cyprus.
Ivanhild had directed the students to form groups of three. They were to take turns sparring, while one person observed, critiqued, and complimented. Wren was not fit to do much more than the first, given that she did not know enough about the art to comment.
“I am trying, but I will admit that I do not feel as though I am learning anything other than how hopeless I am at this,” Wren said, earning a puff of amusement from Kierana along with a laugh.
“Watch as I win, if you please, then I will explain,” Kierana said.
Cyprus’s face was grimly set, but Wren felt his indignation flash hot and bright. Her other peers were some distance off, giving her the ability to focus her attention on her friends, though she still felt the thrumming din of the crowd's emotions.
Kierana spun away as Cyprus moved in on her. She kept her blade high, then swung it down at the perfect angle to collide with his. The impact shook his arms and loosened his grip. Cyprus tried to recover, but Kierana’s hand shot out and grasped his hilt and wrenched it from him. She then placed her blade against his throat while sliding his sword into her scabbard.
Cyprus held up his hands in surrender and stepped back. His jaw was clenched, and the anger rolling off of him was surprisingly strong given the context. He must take his position as Ivanhild’s prodigy quite seriously.
Kierana removed his sword from the scabbard at her waist and tossed it to Cyprus. He caught the handle with ease. If Kierana tried to do that to Wren, she was liable to cut off Wren’s hand.
“As you saw, I used my momentum to aid in disarming him,” Kierana explained through labored breaths. “Given your lack of strength and ability, it is important to become acquainted with the physics of swordsmanship.”
Wren could not be offended by her words, because they were true and not given in malice. Kierana wanted Wren to learn more than Wren did. The woman’s Stonemouth heritage made her appalled at Wren’s lack of defensive skills.
“I will make an effort to learn physics, as I do not see my strength or ability growing in the near future,” Wren said.
Kierana shot her an unamused look while Cyprus chuckled nearby. His mood had already improved, and Wren was amazed at how quickly he vacillated between emotional states.
