Page 116 of Blackheart

“I’m not here to judge,” Amzee assured, raising her hands in defense.

I had survived so much, but I wasn’t sure I could survive another moment of that woman’s hand on Riven’s arm.

“I’m not ditching you guys to go bother with him.”

Amzee shuffled the cards. “We’ll be fine.”

Beck began stacking empty glasses.

“Do I need to drag you up there myself?” she pressed. I shook my head and swallowed my pride.

The ground felt a little wobbly as I stood. The girl's hand traced down Riven’s bicep. He ordered another drink.

I pushed past smelly, drunk patrons and marched up to the bar. I reached right between the girl and Riven, yanking him towards me.

“I told you I’m not interes—” Riven began as he turned around, stopping the moment his eyes melted on me.

There were so many things I wanted to say, but not in the tavern. Not in front of all ‌these people.

My hands were shaking. “Can we talk outside?”

Riven nodded and stepped away from the bar, abandoning his drink.

“Wait your turn,” the woman snapped at me.

Lethally slow, I turned to her. As we made eye contact, we both registered the same thing. I glanced down at her arm to confirm. The reminder of my name on her skin looked irritated, like she had tried scratching it off.

“You… Drakish Blackheart bitch. How dare you show your crooked face!”

Riven stepped forward, towering next to me. “If you say another word, you will find your tongue on the floor.”

The darkness in his threat intimidated even me.

“What’s so special about her?” she asked, assessing me with pure disgust.

“You’d be wise to never again ask such an offensive question about the Princess of Castivian. Next time, you’ll be facing the king.”

Her wretched face went pale as she backed away. She mumbled apologies and explanations, but I didn’t care.

I gave a reassuring nod to Amzee and Beck, and left with Riven.

The streets were quiet, the brisk breeze brushing the backs of my arms. It was comfortably cool, unlike the stuffiness of the warm tavern.

He broke the silence first. “Her arm? Did you do that?”

Of course he had noticed.

I wasn’t ashamed, nor did I regret it. I had been treated like something to discard or be afraid of my entire life. The act of marking my name into her skin only touched the surface of the anger I’d wanted to unleash in retribution. Not just from her, but everyone like her.

“She deserved it.”

He had nothing to say to that, and didn’t hint at whether or not he agreed.

Through cobblestone streets, winding flowered pathways, and down alleys, we walked. We were both a little unsteady, but nothing terrible. I had walked home in far worse conditions in the Waywards. The silence between us wasn't awkward, but comforting. Occasionally we bumped into each other, granting a subtle smile or side eye, but an hour or so went by before either of us actually spoke.

“Enough,” Riven said abruptly. We stopped in what had to be the plainest, ugliest alleyway in all of Eiden.

I turned to face him. The alley gave us little space between each other. It was difficult to see, save for some moonlight and distant lanterns. The silence was unnerving, and it smelled earthy from the growth of weeds along the walls. “You decide to confront mehere?”