Page 50 of Blackheart

I took him as deep as possible, pressing my mouth to his.

My Nature exploded from my core. Dark, hot poison flooded between my thighs and erupted from my throat and into his.

His eyes flew open as he desperately tried to push me off, but I squeezed my thighs tighter.

I am inescapable.

My Nature worked through his skin quickly, choking him and infesting his groin and mouth. He raised a palm to his neck, trying to heal himself. I grabbed his wrist, pressing every bit of poison I could summon into his flesh, my darkness entirely swallowing his light.

Necrosis spread like wildfire around Zain’s lips and crotch. He clawed at his throat, unable to speak. I climbed off of him, taking in the view of his naked body as it wilted. He gazed at me with pleading eyes, as if he could not understand why.

I knelt by his side, leaning in close enough to ensure I was heard and understood clearly by the fading Warlock.

“Caged birds do not forget how to fly,” I said.

His eyes bulged one final time in protest, his body flailing until it was completely overrun with venom.

Myvenom. MyNature.

I did not spare him another glance as I stood. He was nothing but rotting flesh and a bad memory.

The ugly walls of gold and black cracked, melting away and transforming into something else entirely. I did not cower or run as the cage crumbled.

The illusion dissipated. Instead of a luxurious bed, Zain’s lifeless body lay on dirt. We weren’t inside a manor at all. We were surrounded by a woodland village, filled with humble, earthy cottages. The women from the gardens were scattered around, no longer wearing sheer gowns but all sorts of sweaters, dresses, and outfits more fitted to their liking.

I stood in the middle of the village, exposed and naked, with black poison running down my legs and dripping from my mouth.

Everyone stared. Both shock and fright were painted across their gazes.

Sitara and Riven stood out among the villagers. Sitara’s silver hair was now a beautiful brown, and her pale green, watering eyes were full of light.

Riven was completely still, eyes softening as he registered where we were and what I had done.

I did not cower as they took in my bare body. I displayed my Nature and all that came with it.

“Warrior,” Sitara declared.

The women gathered in closer, seeing the dead Warlock for themselves.

One by one, they all repeated after Sitara.

“Warrior. Warrior. Warrior.”

But I was no warrior. I was just a bird.

Chapter 18

Oh, to be Light Natured

“She did not escape. The girl who won the midwinter game was hunted and put down. Their kind are but thieves and killers. I will not waste the Crown’s hand in chasing corpses.”

—Witchlord Dronis Lyfire, as overheard by a Draker bound for Lyonscliff

Coveredwith nothing other than a forest green blanket, I spewed the contents of my stomach into a bucket. I sat on a wooden stool in the village sickhouse, sweat running down my back and legs shaking. The woodland villagers were maternal in their attempts to soothe me with cool rags and herbal teas that reminded me of Trista.

I hurled again.

An older woman stood with her weathered hands on her wide hips, grasping a rag and frowning. “I’ve never seen a Blackheart get so sick.”