Page 161 of Blackheart

I also practiced with my Nature, with and without Singer. I only managed as much as I could before burning a hole in the floor, but at least it was something. Staying busy was the only thing that made the time go by.

Then one day, as I was studying with the fireplace lit and stew on the stove, the blue light of Ansel’s orb went dark.

I grabbed it, tapping it in a frenzy.

Nothing. Lifeless.

I tapped it again—spoke to it even. “Ansel?”

Nothing.

No one was home yet, and it was well past dark. My heart thundered in my chest. The ships would arrive in less than two days. We had to be ready for them.

A terrible, deep instinct weighed me down as I stared at the dark orb.

Bolting out of the comfort of my chair, I made for the heavy sacks of weapons in the living room. They were my responsibility.

I ran to the kitchen, finding a simple hammer under the sink. I yanked the rug away from the floor in front of the fire, before kneeling down and placing the back of the hammer in between planks of hardwood. It took some grit, but I pulled six planks up.

I would never be able to carry the entire sacks. Instead, one by one, I moved the weapons into the floor. Some were heavier than others, and all I could do was drag them. When I’d unloaded all five sacks, I put the floor back and replaced the rug.

My anxiety picked up, unfathomable scenarios becoming real in my head. I put my boots on, sliding Singer into one. The lifeless orb wouldn’t blend in inside the Waywards, so I hid it within the depths of my armoire.

In all black, I exited out the first-story window, becoming one with the night. The last time I’d used a window as a door had been with Riven. My stomach churned like spoiled milk thinking about the possibilities of where he was now.

I made it safely into the winding streets. It was dark, moonlight and the occasional lantern being the only light. Rowdy taverns held the night owls, while many paths remained mostly empty. I peered inside each establishment, searching for my friends or my husband… or Riven.

I had no success.

As the night went on, less and less of the stacked buildings remained lit.

The hair on my neck stood as I resorted to searching down an even darker alleyway. My eyes had adjusted, but it wasn’t enough. I crept forward, listening closely for any sign of my group.

Singer hummed in my boot—a warning.

I pulled her out, gripping her with both hands as I swung around. The stone club lit up as my Nature coursed through it, illuminating a crimson spray as Singer smacked into her target.

My attacker's body dropped dead.

He was not the only one behind me. A group of unmasked Drakers stood there, weapons ready.

“You’re good at hiding, Princess,” one rumbled like thunder.

Panic engulfed me. They knew I was here, and they knew who I was, but there would be no running. I could fight or die.

I chose to fight.

Screeching as my Nature ran through me and into Singer, I wacked a second Draker in the face, death swallowing him before he could move.

I tightened my trembling hands around my club.

“It’s clear why you pack of swine hide behind the mask,” I taunted.

There were seven Drakers. My Nature was wanting after the first kill. It was ravenous. I took a step towards them, marking my intentions like a bloodstain on a fresh sheet of snow.

“Now, which one of you fucking idiots wants to die next?”

I caught a glint of fear intheireyes. At that, my Nature hummed in pleasure.