Page 118 of Blackheart

“The late King’s own brother has forsaken him in death! A heretic! A usurper! He dares to claim Castivian for himself! Shame upon his name!”

—Kolson Strange, Minister of Spirit

I awokein the late morning. The sun sparkled radiantly over Bastard’s Bay, reflecting off the ocean in gold smears like Lyonheart magic.

Reeking like a brothel, I stumbled sleepily out of the heavenly comfort of bed, making the dreadful mistake of glancing in the mirror. My knotted hair could rival a ratty tavern mop.

A thorough bath was necessary before anything else.

I took intentional time to wash my hair and moisturize my skin with a vanilla scented oil. Picking my outfit for the day was easy. I’d been dying to wear a black and violet gown that the tailor master delivered to the house just a day prior. I adjusted the thin straps of my dress and smoothed the flowing lace layers of the skirt down before applying cosmetics.

I was still experimenting, but I liked darker shades on my eyelids, and colors that matched my dress on my lips. I deserved femininity. Cleanliness. Maybe even beauty.

I placed a black chain around my waist, attaching Singer and the orb at each side. While they may have thrown off the elegance of my outfit, I preferred them with me.

Taming my hair took an excessive amount of time, but after I finished combing through it, I decided on my usual style.

By the time I was ready, it was midday.

I had wanted to discuss the bladebreathers and Moonhill with Xavian, but he was surely long gone by now. As king, his agenda was consistently full.

That was okay, though. I could go to him. He’d likely be at the House of Sterling.

I held the skirt of my dress up as I descended the steps and stopped by the kitchen for a light breakfast. Perhaps a muffin. I had been enjoying those. Especially plumberry.

“Late night?” Lady Jocelynn chimed from the living area.

I jumped back a step. “For Fate’s sake, I nearly pissed myself!”

She was perched elegantly on the couch, elbow resting on an overstuffed grey pillow, with her hair swept back into a low bun and an exotic hat atop her head.

“No need for such dramatics, or soiling a perfectly fine gown. That one suits you, by the way.”

“Thank you.”

She studied me for a moment, looking me over. “Anyhow, I was concerned when you missed tea. Your brother mentioned you were out until dawn.”

I did not care for Xavian sharing my business. Especially with the most judgmental person available.

“It was…a long night indeed. We’ll have to reschedule tea for tomorrow.”

Her face went sour. “My show is tomorrow. Or have you already forgotten?”

“I presumed it was in the evening.”

“It is, but for an event like this, I will be preparing and rehearsing all day. My cosmetics, naturally, will be flawless. For the guests, it begins in the evening, yes. Sir Riven should know that.” She sighed dramatically, crossed her legs, and folded her hands in her lap.

“No need to pout. We’ll be there. I’m sorry you went out of your way to check on me.” I grabbed a muffin from a black wicker basket on the counter and took a hearty bite, crumbs scattering.

“And what are you dressed up for, if not our daily tea?”

I swallowed, setting the muffin down on a loose napkin. “I plan on discussing Moonhill and the bladebreathers with my brother today. I’d like to visit as well. I understand it's only a few hours' ride north. The more riders we gain, the better chance we’ll have against the Drakers and Witchlords.”

“The king is unavailable today.”

I snapped my eyes up. “Maybe to you.”

Her king.My brother.