Page 55 of Blackheart

“Thankyou,for what you did for all of us,” she said.

Three years in the Waywards had made it difficult to accept kindness. Operating like a normal person seemed impossible.

I cleared my throat. “Your village and Sitara have been so generous. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Jayzen. There’s no need to thank me or anyone else. We are women; we help one another.”

That night, Sitara and Jayzen hosted me in their home. They served mushroom soup and discussed the surrounding towns, including the easiest routes to any ports within a few weeks' travel.

After being imprisoned for years, they weren’t sure which areas were safe for the Dark Natured, if any. I didn’t expect otherwise.

After finishing dinner, they wished me a good night, blowing out a candle in the quaint living room as I curled up on the couch. Sitara’s cottage was full of quilted items, but I used my charmed blanket instead. Its softness and essence of pine were the only things that felt consistent in the past two days, and for that, I was thankful.

I had no idea where Riven slept, but I honestly didn’t care. Hopefully Kostini hogged whatever fire they had, and Riven was unable to find a patch of grass dry enough to sleep on comfortably. I had yet to wrap my head around what he’d said about Luna, or what she’d told him when she left the Waywards, and left me behind to die.

My mind wove dark thoughts in circles until I eventually fell asleep.

I woke with the rising of the sun. Sitara was up early, too, and had prepared travel packs of baked goods for Riven and me. On the doorstep was a package from the tailor, with a small note that read:

For a warrior.

“Oh, you must put it on,” Sitara urged.

I plopped down on the couch before opening the package. Inside weretwoidentical sets of clothes.

Black pants, which fit me like a glove, and a pair of matching tops with silver thread lacing down the bodice like a loose corset. It was simple, but pretty. At the bottom of the package was a cloak—Mother of Moons, thecloak.

It was velvet for Fate’s sake.

Soft, black, and lined in silver thread, the cloak was ankle-length and thicker than a quilt.

“Oh, she did good,” Sitara said in awe.

And that she had. It was fit for royalty, which I certainly was not. Well, not exactly. Nonetheless, I loved the clothes. Trista would have loved them too.

Jayzen had the stone club ready and gave me a black holster to keep it hanging at my side. I tied my orb on the other hipand threw my pack on. Sitara braided the top half of my hair on each side, where they met together at the back of my head in a conjoined braid that laid on top of my curls.

It was a bittersweet goodbye, but my time in the woodland village would be looked back on fondly.

Meeting Riven outside, I hopped onto Kostini without so much as a good morning.

He turned his head back, side-eying me. “Ready?”

I smiled at Sitara and Jayzen, pulling my hood up. “Ready.”

We passed several villages without stopping, the snow falling on and off. Riven hardly said a word.

As the sun lowered, the night wind brutally traced goosebumps along my hands. I had plenty of gold to get a room, but Riven insisted on staying in the woods.

No comfy bed. No roof to block the snow nor fireplace. No wall between the Oathkeeper and me.

Riven began setting up camp, not bothering to ask for help.

“I’ll go find firewood,” I said.

He glanced up from where he sat, unpacking Sitara’s meat pie. “I’d rather do it myself,” he said, taking a bite and nodding approvingly at the taste.

“Then what do you want me to do?”