Page 17 of Blackheart

Lord Ansel left for a moment down a hallway, returning with a thick cloth. I’d probably made it myself in the tailor house.

“Wrap your hand. There’s a room upstairs to the left you can use until you find suitable arrangements. I’ll be back later.” He tossed the cloth to me and headed for the front door, his cloak still on the couch.

I gawked. I would rather sleep in the streets than a Witchlord’s home. Discomfort was no stranger to me, and I would not be inconvenienced by it now.

“I can find my own sleeping arrangements, and you’re forgetting your cloak!” I called out.

“I don’t need it where I’m going,” was all he said before letting the door shut behind him.

This was not how things were done in the Waywards. If I were caught in his house, the Dark Natured would eat me alive. Drakers were one thing, but to be acquainted with a Witchlord was beyond unforgivable.

Chapter 6

An Exceptionally Shitty Day in the Waywards

“The punishment for wielding Dark Nature must be nothing short of grand. For if mercy takes its place, rebellion is but a breath away.”

—Marker Dane, Lord of Lawship

With my handwrapped and three holes actively burning through Lord Ansel’s floor, I ventured outside, fleeing Keeper’s Street as quick as a thief.

The Waywards had never been in such disarray. Blood, bodies, and smoked flesh coated the air, the stench stinging my nostrils and irritating my eyes. I rubbed my face with my sleeve, blinking harshly a few times before pushing on, keeping an eye out for Luna.

The Drakers worked their way through the destruction, evaluating and loudly reordering the defenses still left in place after the attack. With the possibility of remaining Sapphires within the walls, many threw paranoid glances over their shoulders while families boarded-up windows.

Bodies lay all along the wet ground, most unrecognizable beyond their attire. Among the dead were Drakers, Sapphires,and far too many Dark Natured. Not a single Witchlord had fallen, their Light Nature serving them well. Lord Ansel’s had served himtoowell. That mattered little, though. I had the living to worry about, not the dead.

I checked on Trista first.

She was inside her shop, physically fine, and tending to her unconscious niece. A few of her nephews had helped carry Arielle back home, unseen. Believed by others to be deceased.

Trista promised to handle her, and while I’d turn a blind eye for her sake, I wouldn’t shed a tear if someone slit Arielle’s throat in the night. Families had lost their homes and their lives. The Waywards weren’t large enough to hide in forever. Her punishment would come.

Satisfied at seeing Trista alive, I moved on to looking for Luna.

My poison had yet to settle. I was on edge, the possibility of exploding seeming more likely by the minute. Lord Ansel hadn’t killed me, but I would not be free from punishment. Not when there was a horrible aching in my limbs—the cusp of release I couldn’t reach.

Stepping around bodies and moving through the somber Waywards, I headed back to the debris of my apartment.

I wasn’t sure where to go for the night. If it weren’t so cold, I would sleep outside. Luna could at least stay at the brothel. Maybe I’d talk Mister Archwindle into letting me stay at Widow’s Way after my shifts. Or maybe I just wouldn’t sleep at all.

While I’d hoped Luna and Riven would be waiting for me nearby, they were nowhere to be found. An uncomfortable knot dug into my stomach as Drakers stacked unidentifiable bodies into a pile of rubble. Scavengers sorted through the ruin, stealing anything salvageable. If Luna were here, she’d surely be one of them. She was always fond of the principle of“finders keepers.”

Perhaps she was just ashamed to show her face so soon. It shouldn’t be too difficult to find her. After all, she had to be somewhere within the walls.

My pace quickened as I searched the soot-covered streets, gaze shifting from ruin to the surrounding solemn faces. As smoky air burned my throat, I coughed into my elbow. This was an exceptionally shitty day in the Waywards. After so many fatalities, they wouldn’t have to worry about us outgrowing the cage anytime soon. I winced as I passed the body of an old acquaintance, but pushed on.

I’d walk every street in the city to find Luna if I must.

And I did.

Every. Single. Street.

The sun had set by the time I circled back to where I’d started. My legs and injured shoulder ached, though my heart rivaled both. Once again, I hoped to find Luna sitting outside of what was left of our apartment, maybe waiting to apologize, but all I found was Riven, appearing as defeated as me.

He stood with his mask and hood off, his grey and gold armor coated in blood. Wet tendrils of chestnut hair clung to both sides of his tan face.

He wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, grimacing at the dark clouds overhead. The worst-case scenario floated to the front of my mind, my stomach twisting with each silent second that passed.