Page 51 of Blackheart

Gripping the bucket, I raised my head, dry heaving and sweating. “Always glad to impress.”

The woman clicked her tongue and strode off, her salt and pepper bun bouncing behind her.

Riven was somewhere with Kostini. The healers had shooed him off before we’d had a chance to speak. In truth, I was thankful for the space. So many questions had surfaced in my mind over the last few hours, I wasn’t sure where I would even begin.

In my short time with the healers, I’d learned the village was hundreds of years old. Everyone was Natureless or Lyonhearted. No Blackhearts and no Dark Natured, though that was no surprise.

Sitara assured me no one in the village would report me to Drakers. The nearest town was hours away anyhow.

The older woman barged back into the room with an armful of towels. “A bath will do you some good,” she said as she crouched at my feet. “It’s a communal space, so we’ve got to get your Nature cleaned up first. I’ll need to wipe it off.”

I raised a brow.

“Oh, don’t be shy now, girl.”

With the bucket in my lap and occasional breaks for my sickness, the healer wiped away the black streaks. Evidence that I had truly killed a man. She changed towels frequently and was extra careful not to get any on her skin.

The woman worked consistently until she got to my arm.

“Is this what I think it is?” she rasped, gripping my wrist. After what happened to Zain, I prayed I could trust her not to harm me if I told the truth.

“Yes.”

She ran her finger over the golden mark, as if she couldn’t believe her own eyes. “You are a Lyonaire. This is the King's Mark.”

By blood? Yes. By name? I wasn’t sure anymore. Was I Elora Amona, or Elorengail Lyonaire? Or the royal bastard name of Steele? Or all three?

“I have something extremely important to deliver on behalf of the king. It’s the only reason he gave me his mark.”

She narrowed her eyes, but didn’t push further. Quietly, she finished cleaning my Nature, and afterwards handed me a new towel to cover myself.

With a labored huff, she stepped back and pursed her lips. “Don’t spring a leak.”

That was the least of my concerns. “I have no interest in ever using my Nature again after this.”

Killing Zain was a special occasion.

She chuckled. “As if a Blackheart could resist for long. Get to the river, girl. You’ve earned your bath.”

I grinned and thanked her. My stomach was settled enough that I had faith my bath wouldn’t be ruined by further hurling.

Barefoot and wrapped in a brown towel, I left the quaint sickhouse to find Sitara and a few others waiting, excitement in their eyes, and all wrapped in similar towels. They urged me to follow. I nodded and trailed the group as we practically ran through the woodland village.

Downhill at the far end was a secluded bathing spot, surrounded by high-reaching, snow-capped trees.

The air was painfully cold, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out how the water would feel. By the frosty bank, the women dropped their towels with no interest in waiting for the rest of us. Sitara and a few others had signature sun markings on their backs. Lyonheart indicators. They were proud to wear such a symbol, as they should be.

Sitara beamed as she entered the water. A faint glow shone throughout the river, coming from her and the other Lyonheart’s palms—Light Nature.

They heated the water, just as Lord Dronis had heated his sword and Clarke heated the terrace.Oh, to be Light Natured.

“You will be warmer in the water, Elora!” Sitara chimed.

I dropped my towel and hurried in. She wasn’t lying; it wasn’t chilled in the slightest. I lowered myself into the river until I could hardly reach the bottom. The water was just like the cloud Lord Ansel had wrapped me in, warm and embracing.

The other women washed themselves and played like young girls, giggling, gossiping, and making plans. I held on to the moment, letting it linger and basking in their joy as if it were my own.

But it wasn’t. As they danced and laughed amongst each other, I ventured further out to a more isolated spot.