Page 113 of Blackheart

Down the lantern-lit street were breweries, taverns, brothels, nightclubs, and smoking lounges. Light Natured, Dark Natured, and Natureless all poured in and out of establishments, hopping from one place to the next.

A group of fashionable Stonesenders stood outside of a brick building. It might have been the one Amzee had landed on, but doubt fluttered in my chest. Zephy was nowhere in sight, and it could have been any of the ten other buildings that looked similar.

The Stonesenders stood in a circle as they smoked, passing the piece around while idly chatting. Red and violet lights flashed from inside the building as a couple staggered out of the door, hand in hand, shadows covering the man’s crotch. I tried not to stare, but what a weird way to hide a boner.

“Aye, lovebirds. Might as well shadow yer whole bodies, not just his prick, ya know?” one of the Stonesenders called out jokingly, his tone laced with familiarity.

The girl drunkenly giggled, stumbling down the street while gripping her stout partner's hand. He turned back with a wide smile, lifting his middle finger to the sky.

“If you wanna see mah dick so bad, come watch from the corner, Rockney, ya cucky blub!”

The Stonesenders all laughed, especially Rockney, shaking his head and coughing out puffs of smoke as the Nightcastor couple disappeared into the streets.

“Love that guy,” Rockney said, passing the smoke to a short girl with a mossy dress.

If I kept watching from a distance for any longer, they would be calling me the cucky blub next.

Amzee was either inside the building or not. Best case, these people would know and I wouldn’t have to go searching formyself. They seemed popular enough to recognize a woman who rides a winged creature. Worst case, they ignore me, I fail to find Amzee, then go home and bang my head against the wall to the beat of Lady Fiera’s sobs.

I mustered up precious energy from my limited social reserve and approached the tipsy group of socializers the same as I would any other group of Stonesenders back in the Waywards.

Their voices quieted as I approached. The skin on my chest flared hot as each of their grey eyes shifted to me.

“Sorry to interrupt, I was just wondering if any of you have seen a particular Flamecastor tonight. Blonde, tall, chipper beyond reason. She rides a bladebreather.”

The tallest of them twisted his lips and rolled his eyes.

The girl with short brown hair, pebble-lined spectacles, and the mossy gown crossed her arms. “Rude to begin with her Nature. Maybe give us a name?”

I blinked as my face shifted with confusion. Rude? Was this considered rude?

Rockney looked down at me with glossy, drunken eyes and a silly grin.

“Fascinating accent… but were yer not taught manners? Not polite to describe someone by their Nature first. Kinda seems like ya think yer Flamecastor friend’s an object,” he said. The moon reflected off the shiny rocks beaded into his hair.

I swallowed, admittedly embarrassed and a little shocked. It had not dawned on me how unadapted I was to Castivian culture before this moment. I had even forgotten how rough my speech was in comparison to the lilted speech of most in the city.

Rockney’s accent was stronger than anyone‌ I’d interacted with in the Silver Circle, but it was still Castivi, no doubt. From what I could remember of the map Lady Jocelynn insisted I study, he was probably from up north in Iron Forge. She’dmentioned how it was heavily populated by Stonesenders, and maybe that was far enough to create an accent shift.

My accent wasn’t the reason why they were peeved at me though, my words were.

I discreetly picked at the skin on my finger as I cleared my throat, praying my words would match my sincerity before I made the conversation worse.

“I’m Drakish, and where I come from,it doesmatter what your Nature is. I’m sorry for being offensive,” I said, heart thumping. “My friend’s name is Amzee. If you haven’t seen her, then I’ll be on my way.”

Back in Drakington, an apology coming from a Blackheart wouldn’t have gotten me anywhere, but this was Castivian. If I didn’t give myself a chance to change and grow, I would forever be stuck in the same caged mindset I had run from.

The girl with short hair tilted her chin up approvingly. “Ya, Amzee’s inside.”

I sighed in relief. That was all I needed to know.

After a quick thank you, I left them to their festivities and pulled open the heavy door.

The bar bustled with heavy drinking, heated card games, and drunken laughter. The air smelled of sweat and liquor. My eyes struggled to adjust to the dimly lit room, the glow of red and purple making it difficult to spot Amzee. I weaved through the cluster, dodging sloshing drinks.

Amzee sat in a dark corner, deck in her hand and coins laid out on the table for betting.

She was playing againstBeck.