Page 21 of Blackheart

The very Nature he hated so much brewed within me. “What do Blackhearts have to do with your wife and children?” I spat. I was sick of being blamed for everything, even by other Dark Natured. I had yet to see his palms, but I’d bet they were marked in stone.

He reached down, gripping my hair and yanking me to my feet. I yelped as he brought his mouth to my ear. “My wife is Natureless. My children, too, and now she’s likely remarried to afford them, all because I was forced into these damned walls,”he growled, his breath hot on my face. “I’ll never see the love of my life again, and it’s all because of a Blackheart likeyou.”

“Edmund? Let go of her,” an unfamiliar voice said.

He released his grip immediately, backing away as I caught myself against the wall.

I took slow, intentional breaths as a man with short brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard approached. He stopped a polite distance away, examining me.

“It’s bad business to attack a woman in the middle of the street, is it not?” he questioned, his gentle scold surely meant for children, not men.

“She’s a Blackheart,” the blond answered defensively, shifting his gaze and pointing at me. One quick glance at his palm was all it took to confirm my suspicion. The grey, rough texture couldn’t mean anything else. Perhaps if we were outside of the Waywards, he would have sent a rock soaring into my skull instead of a foot to my stomach.

The well-dressed man tightened his jaw, his lips falling into a flat line. “And I’m a Nightcastor. Go make yourself useful elsewhere before I decide to never pay you another copper.”

The posse of imbeciles scurried away.

I was alone in the alley with the brunette, both of us silent. His clothes weren’t thinning and falling apart like mine. They were a simple yet fresh set of garments. A Pearl dweller.

“I’m sorry. My security does too good of a job sometimes,” he laughed.

If he could afford security within the Waywards, he must have been incredibly wealthy prior to being forced into them.

“I’d like to go now.”

I didn’t care about an apology, and even less, a conversation.

The man was generically handsome, with a youthful face despite the evidence of aging around his kind eyes.

Hands in his pockets, he rocked back on his heels. “Of course. However, I’d love the opportunity to make up for this embarrassing inconvenience. That’s my building you’re leaning on. Perhaps you might consider returning this evening—if you’re available. I’m an excellent host.”

“Hm.” I was familiar enough with men and their intentions to recognize his tone and the true meaning of the invitation.

But…I did need somewhere “hospitable” to sleep. I hoped to be out of the Waywards after the midwinter celebration. Perhaps, I’d find my escape after Orb Hazy, when many Drakers would be drunk and partying late into the night. That was only a day away. The Pearl would be a perfectly acceptable temporary solution. Lord Ansel would be oh-so-pleased with this joyous turn of events.

“I’ll be available,” I decided, offering a rare smile.

“I’ll be expecting you.”

Between the heavy workloads of both jobs, the day flew by. I locked up Widow’s Way and travelled across town back to the Pearl.

Lord Ansel would not be interrupting my sleep, nor would he beputtingme anywhere.

It was already past midnight when I knocked on the black door of the two-story building. When the Nightcastor had initially invited me to return that evening, he hadn’t specified a time, but I was sure he would answer.

“You’re late,” he noted, neither happy nor upset. His brown hair was slicked to the side, and his beard was neatly trimmed. Despite the hour, he was fully dressed down to his shoes.

He’d waited for me.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No, of course not.”

I smiled. An easy win.

As I’d suspected, my late arrival meant he didn’t have the time to torture me through hours of small talk before inviting me to his bedroom.

The fuzzy light of dawn streamed in from the circular window as I lay awake.