Page 140 of Blackheart

I silently searched, one man at a time, until striking blue eyes brought me to a sharp halt. I spit my water back into my cup, my hand shaking as I tried not to interrupt Xavian’s moment. A mocking dark brow lifted directly across from me.

“What is the matter with you?” Lady Jocelynn gritted out quietly.

I whispered back. “There’s a Witchlord in here.”

Lord Ansel sat with his eyes locked on mine. I couldn’t wrap my head around why or how. My heart beat rapidly, fear colliding with confusion.

Lady Jocelynn shook her head and shushed me.

This was bad. So bad. How did Riven notseehim right there? Surely he remembered the Witchlord.

“My sister and I are proud to say we will join our great house with Whimcastor Hold. With this union,” Xavian announced. “Castivian will build its newfound independence on a formidable foundation.”

I could feel the color draining from my face. There probably wouldn’t be a wedding at all, because the Witchlords had infiltrated.

Next to Ansel sat a middle-aged man dressed in a light grey and blue tunic. He nodded with pride.

“My son, Lord Ansel Whimcastor, is honored to be taking Princess Elorengail’s hand in marriage. We hope to solidify the union while we’re here, as much work will need to be done backin Whimcastor Hold. That is, if you desire troops in a timely manner, Your Grace.”

I was going to faint, or just fall over and die altogether.

Riven placed a firm hand on my thigh as he leaned over, voice low. “Breathe. Everything is okay.”

Everything isokay? Did he know Lord Ansel would be here? Had he known something pivotal and not told meagain?

Furthermore, how could Lord Ansel be the heir to Whimcastor Hold? The last time I saw him, he was in proper Witchlord’s attire. Hewasa Witchlord. He was supposed to be across the Sea of Blades and in the Waywards.

Instead, he sat across from me, no longer making eye contact but paying attention to Xavian. The same could not be said for me. I could not listen to a single thing with Lord Ansel sitting there, clean-shaven with dark hair combed like a proper noble.

Lady Jocelynn leaned over me, smacking Riven’s hand under the table. “Pay attention,” she hissed.

My palms were going dark, a feeling all too familiar when I was afraid. I focused keenly on Lord Ansel as Xavian continued to speak. If he were to try to hurt my brother, I’d be ready. Payn may have been immune to my Nature, but Lord Ansel surely was not.

“I see all are here but Bravestone. Any word from Lord Greer?” Xavian asked, now sitting. He balanced the pommel of a dagger with his palm, the tip pressing into the table.

“They’ve pledged to Delaina,” a large man with frizzy, auburn hair and an untamed beard said. He wore dark green, as did the two men on either side of him.

“Thank you, Lord Regby. Is there anyone in this room who feels the same? Or have you all come to wisely pledge your loyalty to me?” Xavian’s voice carried boldly through the hall.

My stomach would never recover from the knotting. Aside from the presence of the Witchlord, our lives and so many others depended on this kingdom uniting as one. Not dividing.

One by one, the lords of each house stood, declaring their loyalty to ‘King Xavian Steele.’ Arthur Pos, Lord Draven, and Avan all observed sharply, prepared for if someone did not.

When it was his turn, Lord Regby pledged proudly to Xavian. As he sat, the next lord rose from his seat, an average-sized man with balding, sandy hair. He wore a gold tunic and a lilac jacket, accompanied by three men in matching attire.

“The Court of Flora will not stand for this treachery! Xavian Steele,” he spat. “Is a bastard born, usurping—” A whistle soared across the table, before a dagger sank in between the man’s eyes. He fell forward, blood splattering on the stone table.

The three accompanying men froze, gaping in horror.

“Who are each of you to him?” Xavian asked, holding another dagger.

“Cousin,” one choked out.

“And your stance?”

“I’m—I’m loyal to Castivian. And you, Your Grace, I swear,” the lankiest of them said.

The other two scowled, disgust riddling their gazes.