Page 101 of Blackheart

People owed me real conversations and understanding, whether I kissed their ass or not.

My nostrils flared. “Which is it you wish to call me? Lady, like some stranger? Or Elora, like the person you pretended to want?”

He retreated a step, settling back into the cold version of himself—the Oathkeeper.

Pushing him away wasn’t my intention. Gods, why could other people operate normally in relationships? My mother had once screamed at me that I was the problem, but I would do anything to be someone worth caring about.

I had not touched another person outside of a mattress in so long, it felt like walking for the first time as I reached for Riven’s arm.

He looked at my hand resting on his bicep, then at the bed behind me. “You make it nearly impossible to maintain my honor.”

To hell with his honor.

“I don’t want it,” I said under my breath.

He placed his warm hand over mine, brushing a thumb along my palm, then briefly closed his eyes before letting go.

“I’ll return to escort you in an hour,” he said, not bothering with my name or a title. Regret spread across his face as he failed to meet my eye.

I closed the door before pressing my back against it and sliding to the floor. I would have preferred for him to yell rather than walk away.

Knock, knock, knock.

I jumped to my feet. I wouldn’t give him the chance to walk away this time.

Swinging open the door, my face fell.

Riven was not the one who stood before me, but some uppity woman.

“Yes?” My tone was icier than intended, but it had no effect on her.

Underneath an extravagant black hat, sun-kissed brown locks spilled from a twisted bun. The atrocity on her head was decorated with dark feathers, flowers, and black pearls. Shewore a plum gown, with dark lace and a matching corset that complemented her bark-colored eyes.

She appraised me, pursing her lips.

“You certainly cannot wear that ever again.”

I gaped.

She pushed right past me, headed straight for the armoire. Beside the silver piece of furniture was a large mirror, its black edges curving around it like vines. I grimaced, unable to bear my reflection, and instead glared at the woman as she flung open the wardrobe.

“Who are you to be speaking to me like this?”

If she was older than me, it could not have been by much, and she certainly was not above me inthishouse.

She sorted through the dresses, hastily gathering options.

“The only person your brother trusts to teach you proper etiquette. My name is Lady Jocelynn Wrenavia, but more importantly,” she said, dropping four wildly extravagant, bright-colored gowns across the unmade bed, “you will need the tailor master later. One of these should work for today. I am told it is a private meeting you are to attend.”

I slithered my gaze from the gowns on the bed to Lady Jocelynn.

“Get the fuck out of my room.”

She snorted, seating herself on a black armchair by the window. “Once you are not an embarrassment to your name or this kingdom, I will gladly return to my own activities.”

Lady Jocelynn crossed a leg over her knee, face painted with persistence. She expected me to bite.

“Were you warned that I am some beast in need of taming?”