Page 63 of Blackheart

“You killed Vyra? Another one of my people?Yourfuture people?”

I tried pulling away, but Payn held firm.

“Tell me! Did you kill her?” he yelled.

I swallowed. “Yes.”

His eyes softened, and shoulders anchored. He let go of my arm, refusing to look at me as his jaw wavered. He reached into the pocket of his cloak, pulling out a vial of blood.

“You will regret this,” he said before tipping the vial to his mouth.

I held the dagger firm, wishing it was Singer instead.Hewas the one who had attacked and kidnapped me.Vyrawas the one who came into the tent, blade drawn. I did not seek her out.

An arrow came spearing toward Payn’s head, but faster than my brain could comprehend, he caught it with hishand. The blood prince looked at the gold and black arrow, unimpressed, and dropped it to the ground.

By the fire, Riven was no longer on horseback but walking toward us, unsheathing his sword.

Payn slid his attention back to me, eyes glowing red. “You will learn what it means to be an heir, and when we bleed the same, I promise I will not be the first to bleed dry.”

With that, he vanished, most of the camp disappearing with him.

Singer fell from the tree, hitting the ground gracefully. Even the dagger in my hand was gone.

He took it all except for Singer, the Drakers, and me.

I sighed with the weight of my entire body, letting the reality of the past few days hit me. I had expected to be dead by now. I was dirty, hungry, and bone tired. I hadn’t had a proper shit in days, and had just killed a woman over a man.

Riven closed the distance between us, sheathing his sword.

Sitara was dead. Everyone from the village was dead. The blood prince hated me. I could barely breathe.

Riven looked ready to scold me, or maybe worse. But how could I care?

Luna was probably dead. Clarke would be dead any day now. If I failed to get the deed to Castivian, all of the Dark Natured would be dead. I hadn’t even saved the women in the woodland village; I had doomed them.

I dropped to my knees, covering my ears. Trying to block out the names pounding in my mind.

Sitara, Luna, Trista, Jayzen, Mom—the list went on, each crashing into me like a wave.

My body trembled, but not out of anger or sorrow. It was so much worse.

Riven crouched next to me, placing a gentle hand on my back. Blocking me from the other Drakers. “Elora…”

“What?” I croaked.

He stood me up and pulled my face to his warm chest. He held the back of my head, smoothing my hair down.

Riven had never hugged me before. His body shielded me from the rest of the world as I breathed in and out, each breath heavier than the last.

The Drakers were gathering with Lord Dronis, not bothering to look our way. It struck me that I was a Blackheart outside of the Waywards.

I backed away from Riven’s embrace, brushing myself off. “Why are these Drakers not attacking me?”

“Not everyone hates the Dark Natured.”

Many of them were removing their hoods for their briefing—smiling even, at their victory.

“Are these rebels?” I asked.