Page 125 of Blackheart

Riven leaned forward. “That’s where your dresses come from,” he said, his face close to my shoulder as he pointed to a boutique showcasing various extravagant gowns.

I should visit it myself sometime. The tailor and his husband were always kind when they came to the house, as I’d needed to be measured twice now. I’d never considered asking where they operated.

The walkways were clean, and the shrubbery was maintained. There were no drunks stumbling about the streets, and the people walking on the sidewalks wore fine clothing. Something told methisside of town didn’t have to worry about the nighttime riff raff.

“That’s Lady Jocelynn’s home.” Riven nodded towards a black manor, with a wide yard and iron fencing. It was elegant, simple, and so… her. With skinny arched windows, a grand double door, and crows sitting on the roof.

“Do she and Lord Draven not live in the Silver Circle?”

“Hishome is in the Silver Circle,” Riven said. “Lady Jocelynn insisted on having her own residence near the theater. She bounces between both.”

That was certainly peculiar but also exciting to hear, given I had my own marriage to endure soon. Which house did her children live in? Or was it both as well?

When he said she lived close to the theater, he meant it, as a moment later the carriage slowed.

The massive building was white and silver, a stark contrast to the carriage. Grand pearlescent stairs led to the door where crowds poured in. I swallowed, my stomach knotting.

“What’s wrong?” Riven asked quietly, placing a hand on my knee. A chill ran down my spine.

The people going into the theater wore regal gowns, expensive jewelry, and tailored suits.

“They all have expectations I don’t know how to meet.”

I was in no shape for fancy conversations with the wealthy, even after tea with Lady Jocelynn every day. The last thing I wanted was for my stupid mouth to ruin the favor of the rich.

Riven leaned closer and brushed his thumb along my cheek. “You are perfect. They’re lucky to lay their eyes on you.”

I smiled sheepishly, shaking my head. “I’m not worried about my appearance. I’ve disguised the street rat in me. I’m concerned about conversations, and what they’ll think of me.”

He laughed and sat up, cracking open the door. “Bladebreathers do not seek validation from mice.”

With a smoke already out of his pocket, he held out his hand. I caught a glimpse of the knife tucked away inside his jacket. “Ready?” he asked.

I took his hand and held my tiara in place as I ducked out of the carriage. I’d crossed the Sea of Blades, killed a warlock, escaped the Sapphires, and survived a bladebreather attack. I would not cower to a theater.

Chapter 38

The Crow’s Whisper

“Following the tragic fire that claimed both her kin and her betrothed, Lady Jocelynn Valeria—the last of the Crows, is soon to travel to Eiden to wed Lord Draven Wrenavia, whose formidable reputation precedes him.”

Archived segment from The Castivian Chronicle

With Riven’shand at the small of my back, we ascended the stairs. At least fifty sets of eyes watched my every move. Clutching my gown with both hands, I kept my chin up to ensure the tiara stayed on my head. I avoided direct eye contact with any of the onlookers at all costs. At least Riven’s protective presence ensured no one came too close.

At the top of the stairs, he held the door for me and—damn.

A crystal chandelier hung like the moon above the gilded lobby, where guests chatted among themselves and sipped from sparkling flutes of fizzing champagne. Servers in beige trousers and dress shirts actively buzzed around with loaded trays while handing out theater pamphlets.

Riven guided me forward. “We have balcony seats.”

With a subtle nod, I followed him through the growing crowd.

The whispers prickled down my neck.

“Twins, yes.”

“Another bastard.”