Page 58 of Ocean of Ink

“Did you know her?” The question caught Castien off guard. He expected a biting remark.

“We were acquainted, yes,” Castien answered as he took his seat and gestured for Wren to do the same.

She sat down and busied herself with taking out her journal and inkpots. The candle Castien had lit before her arrival made her pale hair look luminescent.

“I heard you attended a ball together last year.”

Castien raised a brow. “Why did you ask if I knew her, then?”

Wren opened her notebook and glanced up at him through her lashes.

“I wanted to know if it was true.”

“I could lie.”

Wren’s expression turned annoyed.

“I hope you wouldn’t lie about such things.”

Castien leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “You’ve made it known your opinions of my character; it is shocking that you would dare to hope I’m honorable enough not to deceive you.”

“I endeavor to believe the best of people, though you test me often.”

Castien wondered if Wren believed her words. He read of how her inclination to hope had hurt her time and time again. Would she lose that light and delve into bleak cynicism after all she had been through?

“I tend to do the opposite,” Casiten confessed. “People must prove my poor opinion wrong to gain my respect.”

“I cannot fault you for that,” Wren said quietly as she twisted off the cap to one of her inkpots. “Given the recent events, it might be the best practice.”

The subject seemed to deepen the circles beneath Wren’s eyes. She took on a haunted look.

“Shall we turn our attention to our reason for meeting?” Castien asked in order to distract her from her thoughts.

Wren blinked a few times as though she was returning from a far-off place.

“Yes, yes, that would be good.” She dipped her purple quill in ink. “Perhaps we should begin with how your Gift affects your day-to-day life?”

“And here I thought you were going to give me lessons on how to behave around a lady,” Castien teased.

Wren’s skin flushed a light pink.

“I rather think such knowledge is gained by experience,” she replied primly.

Castien suppressed a chuckle. It was too easy to rattle her, and much too enjoyable as well. He had to be careful to keep his pleasure at bay so it didn’t become apparent to her.

“I will be sure to learn all that I can in our time together, then.” He watched her writing in the candlelight and imagined how she might have looked while penning the entries in her journal. “My Gift can be…invasive at times,” Castien answered her earlier question.

“Can you give an example?” Wren asked, her eyes not lifting from the page.

“Sometimes my focus drifts, since my Gift is always working in the background,” Castien gave a vague reply.

“Is it working as we speak?” Wren asked.

While it was not writing in the air at the time, Castien felt his Gift buzzing within him. It craved new information, whether about Wren or the case.

“It’s a part of me. There is no way to turn it off. Is yours the same?” he asked.

Her quill paused for a moment. He knew the true answer, but wondered what she would say about her false Gift.