Page 145 of Blackheart

I politely grinned, gesturing to the carriage with Singer. “Lord Ansel requested I take his carriage to the House of Sterling, as he’ll be inside taking coffee with the king for some time.”

“Lord Ansel is leaving himself without transport?”

“Yes. Is that not something you’d do for your betrothed?”

He shifted awkwardly, but opened the door for me. “I suppose.”

The ride to the House of Sterling was swift, and I relished the whole way that Ansel would have to walk.

Once at the stone fortress, I didn’t bother going to the terrace. Lady Jocelynn wouldn’t be there for hours. Instead, I threaded through the halls and out the side door, sneaking off to the barracks down the street.

Several Blademen were already up for the day, walking around outside their quarters, carrying weapons and lugging out trash. I approached a larger blond man with bags under his eyes.

“Where’s Sir Riven?”

He eyed me cautiously, then nodded his head back. “Over by the stables.”

Riven stood next to Kostini in the stall, brushing his coat. His eyes softened at the sight of me, concern peeking through.

“You’re up early.”

I crossed my arms. “Lord Ansel was in my living room.”

“Ah.”

I approached Kostini, petting his mane. “Can we go somewhere? Just for a few hours? I don’t want to worry about war and expectations, just for a little while.”

“If that’s what you want,” Riven said softly.

“I need to be back by lunch,” I added, handing off Singer briefly as I mounted. Missing midday tea with Lady Jocelynn might warrant a grudge she’d never let go of.

Riven held back a smile before hopping up behind me. His tan hands reached for the reins in my lap, his mouth brushing my ear. “Hold on.”

Kostini bolted.

Through the capital’s streets, the brotherhood’s presence was much more noticeable than before Prince Payn’s infiltration. I kept my head low, not wanting to catch any attention, especially not that of someone who might report back to Lord Ansel’s father. Whether I liked Lord Ansel or not, the betrothal was important.

After expressing my concerns to Riven, he cut right, ensuring we’d take a more discreet route. I didn’t care where we were going. Anywhere I wouldn’t be reminded of my responsibilities to wed and breed would be fine by me.

Riding along the outskirts of the waking city, we veered down a rocky path, where thick, grassy patches led to the sea. We were so far from the port, I had to squint to make out the ships in Bastard’s Bay. The coast was just ahead. Blue, green, and grey, simmering waves rolled onto the sandy shore in a song of endless repetition.

I squinted. Further down the beach, a boulder rested in the sand, carving its way out into the sea. It blocked the view of the shores beyond, as if protecting the land itself.

Kostini came to a stop where the grass turned into shell-scattered sand. Riven had chosen a perfect location, secluded and serene. The sun had just barely entered the sky, reflecting shades of pink and yellow on the water.

There was nothing even close to this beautiful in the Waywards.

A bitter ache dwelled in my chest thinking of the years wasted while beauty like this waited on the outside. There were still people stuck inside those walls.

It wouldn’t be that way forever. I was certain of it. We’d start with the Southern Waywards, and eventually, we’d get everyone out. I had to believe in us, because the moment I started doubting, destiny might follow suit.

Riven planted his feet on the ground first, then offered me a hand. I gladly took it, letting him guide me down. I unlaced my boots, leaving them on the wispy grass before embracing the cool sand between my toes. It was freeing—standing on the beach in a flowing nightgown.

Riven did not appear free at all. He’d dressed himself for a full day of training.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re keeping your boots on,” I complained.

He sighed. “Fuck it.”