Page 92 of Blackheart

How did I come from the bravest bloodline in the kingdom, only to be born pathetic and indecisive? The pressure to be useful was overwhelming to where I wanted to do nothing at all, but the idea of doing nothing while thousands suffered was ruinous upon my peace.

Yet, every time I tried to help, I messed everything up.

Sitara and her village had been freed from Zain, only to be butchered. Saving Luna from a Sapphire was the last time I’d ever seen her. Gathering firewood from town got me imprisoned for days in an enemy camp. All I did was make things worse.

I could only imagine what everyone else thought of me. I shook my head in my hands, squeezing my eyes tight.

The expectations were too high. I didn’t know the right thing to say to Xavian, norwhathe could possibly say to me that would make up for anything. There were so many people left behind in the Waywards, people I knew and worked with. They were suffering and dying while I sat safe in a vibrant city.

The guilt ravaged me, tearing me apart piece by shattered piece.

I’d yet to check in on Trista, and Luna was probably dead by now. No matter how hard I tried to keep Riven out of my head, he consumed my mind again and again.

I had to stop. I’d already gone too far.

I should have taken Prince Payn up on his offer. At least then I would have been doing something helpful, though it was bold of the Blood Prince to assume my brother would care to surrender on my behalf.

My head spun. The world was closing in, and my days of being nameless were numbered. If I could simply disappear, I would have.

A knock pounded on the door.

I jumped at the vibrations against my back, scowling at the giggles from the other side.

“What?”I growled.

There were several voices, all women. “We’re going to play orb-dice. Come out of your room, Waywards girl. Don’t you want to join us?”

It was one of my new coworkers who had a clear disdain for me, but I’d yet to remember her name.

“No.” There was too much going on in my head to say anything else, and I never wanted to play another game involving an orb after the midwinter celebration.

They didn’t bother responding, but chatted amongst themselves.

“I told you, she’s a bitch.”

“Eh, I think she’s just stupid. Gia said she tried to run into the streets after closing one night.”

“She’s from that Waywards thing. Of course she’s dumb.”

“Ha! I heard Mister Guzzlesticks and his boys the other day talking about how they couldn’t bed a girl with monster eyes like hers. If they want nothing to do with her, perhaps we shouldn’t be offended that the monster won’t play.”

I winced.

“Why does Drakington’s errant garbage keep making its way here?”

“Gia, we tried to get it to play! Happy now?”

I did not need Gia’s charity, and I was no stranger to hate, but labeling me a monster? A monster would not hide away, sparing dull barmaids from her wrath. They knew nothing about what I was above or beneath. They knew nothing at all.

I had crossed a kingdom and an ocean, just to find out that even beautiful cities could be filled with the same hate that festered in Drakington.

I shot up, swinging my door open. The three women stopped and turned back, surprised—amused even. Snickering in theirbusty brown dresses. Their hair haggard and teased like a trio of electrocuted trench rats.

The most obnoxious one dared to speak first. “Does the monster not know the common tongue? I thought it said ‘no’? Yet now it's out of the room?” She cackled. “Can you read,Monster? Do they teach the Drakish such things? I’m truly curious.”

Her entourage of slug-bucket bitches laughed themselves to tears.

I knew their hatred well. I was foreign, and the Waywards tended to leave a bitter taste in everyone's mouth.