Page 6 of Blackheart

“I thought you’d say that,” he said, turning back and scooting his stool away from Luna.

I was aware of the loudness of the room in a way I had not been before. Luna rubbed her temples.

“You look distressed,” I noted.

She eyed me, dumbfounded. “Of course I am. Miss Soryl is going to make me take Arielle’s customers. I’m going to need another drink.”

“Oh, hell.” I refilled her glass, offering loose promises of prayers and sympathies.

The front door flew open, and an unwelcome Witchlord sauntered in.

Third night in a row.

My frown settled promptly as he faced me at the bar, two coins in hand.

His tunic was noticeably wrinkled, bearing the marks from the day. His sharp eyes were framed by soft black hair, while his cheeks were cold and blotched. He was possibly the tallest man that had ever entered Widow’s Way Tavern, his head nearly scraping the ceiling.

He shifted, staring down at me impatiently.

I eyed the coins, the wet spots he’d trailed in from the snow, and lastly, his cold, blue eyes. “What can I get for you, Lord Ansel?”

Luna gawked from the other end of the bar.

“Water.”

“Water?”

He dropped two coins into my palm. “It's a clear liquid.”

I clenched my jaw. “I know what water is.”

He smiled, eyes twinkling. “Great. Water it is, then.”

I dropped the coins into my apron and fetched a glass. If he wanted murky water from a barrel, then fine. Luna caught my gaze, wildly motioning at the Witchlord. I shook my head.

Lord Ansel waited patiently. As soon as the glass was filled, I plopped it down in front of him.

“There's a seat at the other end of the bar,” I added, nodding towards Luna.

He leaned in to pick up the glass before standing to his full height. “I have a good view of what seats are available.” He settled in the back corner of the tavern, just as he had the past few nights.

I exhaled and marched back over to Luna.

She excitedly bounced in her chair, sloshing her drink. “Tell me everything.”

“He isnotvery fun.”

“Those are the most fun!” she playfully whined. Swiveling in her chair, she peered back at him.

I wiped the inside of a dirty tankard, gritting my teeth.

“He ordered water, then practically taunted me when I said he could sit next to you.”

She looked backagain. “Perhaps I should go sit with him.”

My eyebrows nearly hit my hairline. Perhaps she should not. “You’re worried about being caught with a Draker? Imaginewhat the others might think, ordo to youif you associate with a Witchlord.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’m going home then.”