Page 52 of Blackheart

The water was still warm. Snow flurries gradually fell, melting on my cheeks like butter. I inhaled slowly, soaking in the peace. This felt like freedom. Everyone in the Waywards deservedthis.

Where the bank rose, a fallen tree lay above the river, creating a bridge. I swam under it. Sounds of splashing came from the near distance, in the opposite direction of the women.

I stopped, gripping the wall of the tree trunk and peering carefully around it. The bridge must have marked where the bathing section was, because past it, Riven sat on the water's edge, shirtless and washing his clothes.

Kostini drank while the Draker rang out a black shirt, setting it on top of his bag and moving onto the next article of clothing. I’d seen Riven shirtless the day of the Sapphire attack in the apartment. Tattoos covered his arms and chest, but I hadn’t noticed the one well below his navel. It said something indistinguishable. I squinted?—

Kostini neighed abruptly, raising his head at me.

Shit.

I hid behind the curved tree, covering my mouth with my hand.

“Who’s there?” Riven called out.

I didn’t move. Didn’t speak. If I stayed put, he would assume it was a natural sound from the river and nothing more. I could leave him to wash his clothes, and when he was gone, I would finish bathing.

There was a shuffling of clothes accompanied by small splashes. My heart thundered as I tried to make out where Riven was without looking for myself.

Another splash, but closer. If I moved, Riven would see me.

With my back pressed against the tree, the river rippled against my side.

Then Riven jumped around the corner, nailing the back of my head to the trunk with a blade at my throat.

Both of our eyes widened as we stood chest-high in the water, his forearm braced against my collarbone.

He lowered the knife. “You’re supposed to be with the healer.”

I sank my body further into the water. “I’m bathing!” I hissed.

He scoffed and looked down at himself. “No,weare bathing, evidently.”

“I did not ask you to get in!”

“You were silent when I asked who was there. That was practically an invitation, was it not?”

My face heated, brain scrambling to properly formulate an answer. “Just go back to washing your clothes.”

He tilted his head, jaw flexing. “Ah. Youwerewatching me.”

“I saw you. Not watched. There’s a difference.” Light snow melted onto his broad shoulders, and it took everything in me not to glance down and read his tattoo.

The sun caught the chestnut sparks in his dark hair as he moved away, flicking his knife between his fingers. “The next time you want a show, let me know I’ll be performing.”

As if I’d seek him out in that way after he’d been with Luna. I held my arms over my chest, preserving the last bit of modesty I could. “A show won’t be necessary, but I do need some answers. Why did you go to the Warlock’s mansion? And when did you know I was King Clarke's sister?”

He stopped flicking the knife. “Well,” he began as he reached for the tree hanging over us. He pulled himself up with ease, muscles rippling down his abdomen before sitting on a sturdy branch. I thanked Fate he was wearing shorts and not naked, as I unfortunately was.

“I’d heard the Warlock had a portal. I was hoping we could take a shortcut to Castivian. As for being the king’s sister, I’ve known for three years.”

“The entire time you’ve known me? And you said nothing?”

“You didn’t ask.”

“How the hell would I know to ask?” I steadied my breathing. I’d promised the healer I wouldn’t spring a leak.

He flicked the knife again, like it was a game. “It wasn’t my job to tell you. I had an oath to keep an eye on you until told otherwise, and I’ve kept it.”