by Claire Luana
“I should go,” Wren said, her feet itching to flee the suffocating eyes on her.
“Wren, please,” Virgil said, his hands outstretched. “Lucas will never forgive me if I let you leave like this.”
“You can’t make me stay.” Her hands came up before her in an unconscious gesture.
Virgil recoiled. “Of course not. I’m asking you to stay.”
“I’m sorry…” She backed away, down the aisle. “I shouldn’t have come.”
Wren broke into a run, throwing her body against the massive wooden door, pushing it open. Just as someone moved to open it from the outside. She fell through the opening, bowling into another, the force of her flight bearing them both to the cobblestones.
Wren’s fall was broken by a warm body and a pair of strong arms. “Oof!” The man grunted.
Wren squirmed to her feet, pushing off the interloper. She grew cold when she saw Lucas’s handsome face beneath her, his brow furrowed crossly.
“You don’t know your own strength,” he jested.
She stoked the fire of her anger with her new knowledge of his parentage. She gave a mocking half-bow. “I apologize, Prince Imbris. You may have me whipped for my impertinence.”
A storm cloud passed across his face, and he stood, brushing himself off. “Oh. You…”
“I know your little secret. Virgil told me.” She softened a bit. “Don’t be mad at him. He didn’t mean to. Now I will be going.” The letter in her bodice was forgotten. She needed to be away from him, from his lies, from the Imbris clan with their cruelty and spite.
“Wren!” He grabbed her wrist as she tried to walk away.
“Don’t touch me.” She practically spit the words.
He released her like she was the handle of a scalding pot. “Please let me explain.”
She stormed away.
He called after her. “Do you want to be known for everything your father did? Are you that same person?”
She stopped in her tracks, his words cutting her to the quick. No. She was not her father. She had spent her life trying to put as much distance as she could between that man and his memory.
He approached behind her. “I’m the sixth of seven sons and will never be king. I distance myself as much as I can from my family, from the court and the politics and the intrigue. To make what small difference I can for the good of this city. I’m not like him.”
She turned, taking in his wide pleading eyes, his outstretched hands. “You should have told me.”
“So you could react like this?” A crooked grin.
She started to turn away.
“I know, I know. I didn’t tell you because that’s not who I am. Prince Imbris. I’m just a man. Or I’m trying to be. I don’t want to conquer or lead armies or live in the palace. I’m an inspector. I like to help people. Put bad men in prison, even if they’re on my father’s payroll. Especially if they’re on my father’s payroll. I like to go for morning runs around Lake Viri without a contingent of guards flanking me. I like to eat ice cream at Salted Cream and then sit on Nysia Avenue watching people go by. I can’t change who my parents are. I can only control the life I live. That’s the real me. That’s the person I wanted you to know.”
She turned back, his words sending warm tendrils into the icy anger that had flooded her. Gods, the pleading in his eyes. The earnestness and hope and apology. How could Lucas be from the same stock as King Hadrian Imbris?
“I learned a long time ago that when people meet ‘Prince Imbris’ first, they never see the real me.”
“You still shouldn’t have lied.”
“Technically, I didn’t lie…”
She huffed.
“I shouldn’t have lied.”
She heaved a sigh and closed her eyes for a minute. As angry as she was at Lucas’s omission… she found herself wanting to forgive him. She didn’t want to walk away from him. True, he had broken her trust, but his was a betrayal she understood. Trying to escape his past, to be a different person. Wasn’t she guilty of the same thing? Plus, she needed him. Less than two weeks, the little voice inside her whispered. Can you do this without him? “All right.” She heaved a sigh. “You’re forgiven.”
“Thank you!” He took her hands and kissed them. His sudden gesture seemed to have surprised him as much as her, and he dropped her hands quickly, shoving his hands in his pocket. The gesture tugged at her heart, and warning bells sounded within her. Not a time for romance, she reminded herself sternly.
“So… you met Virgil.”
“Apologize to him for me, will you? He surprised me, that’s all.”
“Do you want to go back in?”
Wren shook her head. “I do have something to tell you, though. Can we sit?”
They settled onto a bench nestled in the shade of the temple.
“Before I tell you, I need a promise,” Wren said, a sudden urge coming over her. Now was not a time for romance… but maybe someday.
“Anything,” he said eagerly.
“We have to go to Salted Cream when all this is done. I’ve never been and Master Oldrick’s apprentice Hazel raved about it on a near daily-basis. Their strawberry rhubarb ice cream was apparently ‘worth killing for.’”
“It’s true. I’ll have to put her on the inspector’s ice cream watch list,” Lucas said, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“You didn’t hear it from me,” Wren said.
“It’s a deal. When we clear your name, we will celebrate with ice cream. Now, what do you have for me?”
“I snuck back into Kasper’s room…”
“Wren!” Lucas chided. “You shouldn’t have done that. If someone had found you…”
“It’s fine,” she said, shoving down her guilt. Hopefully, the guard wouldn’t say anything. “I had to. Callidus is the new guildmaster. He’ll be moving into the office tomorrow. I knew we’d never get in there again once that happened.”
“Damn,” Lucas said. “Callidus will pursue you relentlessly as guildmaster. That’s not a good development.”
“Tell me about it,” Wren said. “But I discovered something!” She pulled the crumpled letter out of the bodice of her dress.
Lucas raised an eyebrow and a grin flickered across his face. “Lucky letter.”
Wren shook her head in exasperation. “Why does everyone say that?”
“Who else is saying… Never mind that. Give it here.”
Lucas quickly scanned the note while Wren watched his expression like a hawk.
“This is interesting,” he said. “It seems like a threat. It could be from the real killer.”
Wren nodded enthusiastically. “That’s what I thought! And did you see the signature? It’s from someone who calls themselves ‘C.’ I think we both know who that is.”
“Callidus?” Lucas stroked his chin while he considered. Wren found herself watching as he ran his fingers along the rough stubble at his jaw. “But why would Callidus write a letter? They’re in the same guild, together all the time. Why put a threat in writing when you could say it directly and leave no evidence?”
“Maybe… he’s cowardly,” Wren suggested. “Or he was out of town and wrote the letter.”
“Not beyond the realm of possibility, but it still doesn’t quite fit. What we need to do is to compare this to Callidus’s handwriting to see if they match.”
“I can do that,” Wren said. “I’m sure I could sneak into Callidus’s office and snag some unimportant paper.”
“Bad idea,” Lucas said. “I don’t want you to get caught. Callidus can’t know we’re trying to build a case against him. You can’t take on a guildhead unless your case is airtight. But maybe you can find his handwriting somewhere else around the Guild. Approving the budget or some other sort of bureaucratic nonsense.”
“I’ll see what I can find,” she said.
“The other piece we need to understand is what this threat is about. What does he mean by ‘revealing the secret of our truest currenc
y?’ What secret?”
Wren carefully ordered her features into blankness. “I’m not sure,” she said, though she was fairly certain she did know what secret Callidus spoke of. Her throat began to burn even with the thought of voicing it to Lucas. The question in her mind was why? Was Kasper planning to reveal the existence of their Gifts? But to who? And for what purpose?
Lucas watched her, examining the emotions play across her face. “Are you sure you don’t know what he’s talking about?”
Wren cleared her throat. “I haven’t been at the guild very long. There’s a lot I don’t understand yet. I’ll talk to Sable. Maybe she has insight into this.”
Lucas nodded slowly, still watching her. “Very well,” he said. “We’ll drop it.” His unspoken words sounded like an echo. For now.
Chapter 18
Olivia flew into Wren’s bedroom the next morning, throwing open the door with a crash. She bounced on Wren’s bed as Wren groaned, pulling a pillow back over her head. The sky outside the window was pale and watery with dawn’s first light. “What time is it?” Wren asked, when Olivia continued her bouncing.
“5:30,” Olivia said. “Lots to do today to get ready for Callidus’s appointment gala. But I wanted to tell you that your dresses came!”
Wren sat up, suddenly alert. “Really? I thought they weren’t going to be ready until next week?”
“Elda is a miracle worker. I told her how you needed a dress for the gala and how you’d have to borrow something and it would be so horrible and she got all of them done early just to be rid of me.”
Wren laughed, throwing off the covers. She could see the older woman working through the night to appease Olivia’s insistent enthusiasm.
“I’d be lost without you, Olivia,” Wren said. “Now if I’m executed, I’ll have peace of mind knowing I experienced my first gala,” she joked.
“None of that doom and gloom talk,” Olivia said. “You still have weeks to discover who the real killer is before the king and the inquisitor return. We’ll focus on that tomorrow. Today, we look beautiful.”
Wren opened her mouth to tell Olivia that weeks were really just days, but the words left her as Olivia shook out Wren’s dress for the gala.
The cut was simple, a floor-length A-line gown dipping low in front. But the fabric. Wren reached out and touched it reverentially, stroking its velvety length. The dress was rich in texture and dimension, with abstract flowers of velvet pressed into the gold thread.
“Isn’t it amazing?” Olivia said. “I love the jewel tones of the flowers… the burgundy and teal and gold will look so nice with your auburn hair…”
Wren pulled back, suddenly raw with emotion. Tears threatened in the corner of her eyes. What was it about this place? She hadn’t cried in years before she had come to the Guildhall. Crying was for the weak, for those who expected sunshine and jelly beans from life. And then she realized what it was. Kindness. She was unaccustomed to such human kindness.
“Do you not like it?” Olivia asked, unsure.
Wren shook her head, trying to gather herself enough to speak. “I think this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me,” she said softly.
Olivia threw her arms around Wren in a hug. “I’m glad you like it.”
“I love it.”
The Guildhall buzzed with activity as preparations were made for the Callidus’s appointment gala. The gala itself was to be held at the massive Tradehouse next door, but guild servants, staff, and vendors swarmed between the two buildings.
After bathing and dressing in another of her new dresses, a simple cut with an overlay of green leafy lace, she set off to find breakfast and Master Oldrick. In the excitement of breaking into Kasper’s office and finding the note, she had completely forgotten that she had asked Oldrick to meet her after yesterday’s voting. She was grateful he hadn’t returned to his shop.
He was staying in the guest wing on the second floor. He answered the door in a rumpled shirt, his hair wild around his temples. A surge of nostalgia washed over Wren, surprising her with its ferocity. While her life under Master Oldrick had been sparse and simple, it had been satisfying as well, each day focused on making beautiful confections.
“Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to a shabby velvet divan in the sitting room. “How’re they treating you, my Wren?”
“Well, Master Oldrick. They have made me a journeyman, and Grandmaster Sable said artisan will not be far after.” The comment was pointed.
Master Oldrick had the decency to look embarrassed. “Ah. I always knew you were too fine a flower to bloom in my garden for long. Your confections… are a thing of wonder. I wanted to keep you to myself as long as possible.”
Wren softened. “I bear you no ill will, Master Oldrick. In truth, if you hadn’t taken me in, I don’t know where I’d be right now. Certainly not in this Guildhall.”
“You never needed me, Wren. There’s hardly a thing I taught you that your hands didn’t already know. All you needed was a chance.”
“Don’t discount the importance of a chance,” she said.
“Be careful, my dear. This place… it takes the love of the thing we do and replaces it with a love of power. It pains me to see they’re already using you as a piece in their little game, what with this accusation of murder. It’s preposterous, and all know it. But they don’t care. They don’t see the people. Just pawns.”
Wren bristled. “That may be true of Callidus, but not of Sable and Hale. They’ve been kind to me.”
Master Oldrick shook his head. “Just because they’re kind doesn’t mean they’re not using you. I’m not saying it’s malicious—it’s just how they think. Be careful. Trust no one but yourself.”
She sighed. “I know you’re right. But it seems like the makings of a lonely life.” She had been berating herself every day to stay on her guard, to look at everything offered with a discerning gaze. But part of her yearned to throw that caution aside, to embrace the friendships offered. Was it so impossible to think Hale and Olivia just wanted… to be her friends?
“You’re living your own life now—I respect that. Perhaps you can make a happy life here, and if that’s so, I’ll eat my words quicker than one of your buttercreams. But mark my words, after a year or two here, you may find yourself craving a quiet little shop with a front window full of chocolates.”
“Like yours?” She chuckled.
“I won’t be around forever. I’ll need someone to take over with more brains than Tate and more commitment than Hazel. You and I both know she’ll be married with three babes before the brittle sets.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said. “Backup plan.” If I live that long.
“Now, Wren, I know you didn’t come here for advice. So how can I help you? I’ll do whatever I can.”
“I need to know who purchased the rose cupcakes. The kind that Grandmaster Callidus brought to the shop the day he brought me here. They… they were poisoned. I need to know who might have had the opportunity to slip in the poison.”
Master Oldrick shook his head. “Poisoned! It’s a travesty to pervert such a wonderful confection. I don’t know if I kept the records… Tate has been terrible about the bookkeeping. But I’ll look when I get back to my shop tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” she said, rising. “You’ll be at the gala?”
“Yes. I was going to head back, but Hazel damn near blew her head off at the suggestion. We’ll stay and leave tomorrow.”
Wren smiled, imagining the fit the girl must have thrown. “I’ll see you all there then.”
Master Oldrick clasped her hands as she neared the door, his gnarled grip surprisingly strong.
“You be careful now,” he said. “If someone’s mad enough to kill the head of the Guild, they’re mad enough to kill anyone who gets too close. Keep your eyes open.”
Wren nodded in thanks and slipped through the door, Master Oldrick’s words of warning ringing in her ears.
A surprise was waiting for
Wren when she entered the teaching kitchen for her afternoon lesson with Hale. Sable was perched on a stool wearing an azure dress and an annoyed expression.
“You’re late,” she said.
“I’m sorry. Hale never set a fixed time…” Wren trailed off.
“Hale isn’t teaching your lesson today. I am,” Sable said. “And when I’m teaching, you’re on time.”
Wren nodded, biting back a sarcastic comment about how she would have known to be on time if Sable had given her some warning.
“Hale told me you made caramels in your first lesson?”
Wren nodded again.
“That’s about as easy as it gets. We’ll make something a bit more difficult this time.” Sable lofted a bundle of fresh mint leaves with a flourish.
Wren’s mind danced over the various choices of what they could be making.
Sable answered the silent question. “Mint truffles.”
“Great,” Wren said. Truffles were one of her favorite things to eat, although they were a bit boring to make. She could go for a truffle.
“Did Hale explain how you can vary the level of infusion in your confections?”
“Yes, though we didn’t get to the lesson where he told me how.”
“Our Gifts work through a combination of three forces. Our minds, our actions, and the ingredients.”
“Hale explained the mindset to me. That it’s focus, plus… movement.”
“More or less. The mindset, I call it ‘flow.’ The state where you are completely engrossed in your work, your mind clear of all else. The deeper in this state you are, the stronger the confection. But that’s not all. Our actions imbue magic as well. The more complex the movement, the stronger the infusion.”
Wren thought about the poisoned cupcake, its intricately crafted petals. The cupcakes were about the most labor-intensive sweet she made. No wonder she’d felt wrung out and empty after completing a batch.
“These two factors are like levers you can push to vary the outcome. What little control we have over our Gifts comes from the application of these principles.”
