Page 152 of Blackheart

Light shone through the windows in my quiet room. Riven was gone for the day. He’d probably left to train the new recruits hours ago.

I was sore in a way I had never been before, and tired in a way I was all too used to.

I dressed for training, needing it now more than ever if I was going back to Drakington.

The entire house was empty. I treated myself to a piece of buttered toast and a solitary cup of spiced tea before heading out. The herbs soothed the aching silence in my head. It was as if my own brain had shut me out. I couldn’t bring myself to care about most things, but I did care about proving myself to be just as noble and worthy as my brother by the time I returned from Drakington.

There was a shred of doubt, and even a little fear, that I wouldn’t make it back at all. I slammed that thought away and tossed my plate in the sink. After I’d washed and put it away, I opened the front door.

My husband was standing there with his hands in his pockets.

“No,” I snapped, walking right past him.

“No?”

“No, I don’t want to talk to you,” I clarified, reaching the stone pavement.

“Why?”

“Because I have nothing to say to you.” He was no more than a stranger to me, and no less than a liar.

Surely he’d mock me about my body's response, or force me to stay put with his stupid clouds. He caught up, stopping in front of me.

“We have to trust each other. You can have your freedom and your preferred company. I don’t care to control you, Blackheart.”

I wasn’t surewhathe cared about.

“I will never trust you,Witchlord.”

He rolled his eyes back in annoyance. “Would you have preferred I pretend to be a Draker? Like your lover?”

I stepped back. “No. I would’ve preferred something else.”

“What do you mean?

“I meant what I just said.”

He rolled his eyes again, even more dramatically. “Yeah, I get that, but could you please expound?”

I leaned forward. “Expound? Is that even a fucking word?”

He shrugged. “Expand upon what you meant by ‘something else’.”

I threw my arms up in the air. “I don’t know, but having my first impression of my betrothed as a Witchlord was an insane decision.”

He scoffed. “Bold of you to think I wasn’t scoping out my options. You’re lucky the queen is mad, or I might’ve taken her up on her proposal. Destiny, of course, gives me the choice between a Blackheart with no sense of self-preservation and affections for a Blademan, or an ill-minded widow who plans mass murders for self-care. Oh, and of course, theslightlyless insane of the two of you doesn’t even appreciate my choice.”

“You are rude.”

“Rich, coming from you.”

“What is your problem with me?” I hadn’t done anything to him. I’d simply minded my own and refused his presence unless otherwise necessary.

He formed a new blue orb between his hands, his Nature rolling and illuminating. He held it up, keeping his eyes on me. “I want to be on the same page, but you make it irritatingly difficult.”

I was tired of men telling me what page to be on. I had no intention of letting him boss me around. His only saving grace was that we were soon be stuck on a ship together. It would be easier to just go ahead and get both of our expectations out of the way.

“Go on with what you want to say.”