Page 94 of Blackheart

I crouched beside the first man's body.

His chest did not rise or fall, and when I brought my fingers to his neck, there was no flickering beat.

I may have been useless since arriving in Castivian, but I wasnotpowerless.

I shamelessly collected every coin from his pockets, the chain around his neck, and an obsidian blade from his hand.

Striding through the night, I searched for the monster they said I was.

Chapter 30

The Tea

“Brother, I have not heard from you in some time. Write soon.”

—Correspondence from Lord Xavian Steele to Lyonsreach

I proppedmy elbow on the meeting table. An ocean breeze flowed in between stone columns.

Avan sat at my left, his red hair disheveled. He wore casual Castivian black and tried to hold in a yawn. Draven sat to my right, looking quite the opposite in a plum velvet dress shirt, with his long black hair slicked back.

I knew it was a dream because Riven, of all people, was present, sitting alongside Draven. He wore his uniform with an arsenal strapped to his body while leaning back in his chair.

“Arthur Pos is late. We should start without the old grump,” Avan said, spinning a coin on his finger.

“He’sunfortunatelyan important asset to this council,” Draven droned, a deep frown settling into his face.

The doors opened, and the older man shuffled in, wispy brows low and spectacles on. He wore a burgundy tunic, black pants, and silver rings adorning every finger.

“My lord, you look upset,” Arthur said, wrinkles creasing across his forehead as he made his way to his seat.

“I was hoping your tardiness meant you were dead. Now, when is the next ship's departure?”

My voice was not my own; it was Xavian’s. I was watching through his eyes.

Arthur Pos did not look surprised by my brother's comment, nor offended. Draven answered, “Tomorrow. Another returns in a week. I hear there are twenty Dark Natured refugees on board.”

“Only twenty?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Xavian's fingers drummed on the table. The council members held their breath as he contemplated. “If the majority are trapped in the Waywards, then the next group we send needs to retrieve them from within. Is that not obvious?”

Avan rubbed his jaw. Arthur scoffed. “Those who go inside the Waywards do not come out.”

“I believe my sister walks on these lands, does she not?” Xavian asked.

Pos’s cheeks reddened. “She is an exception. She was given a way?—”

“I’ll go back.”

All eyes turned to Riven.

Avan shook his head. “You’ve just returned. The Brotherhood has been without its Captain for three years already.”

“He knows the Waywards,” Dravan offered, nodding with approval.

“These resources are not worth squandering on imprisoned creatures while Saffron ignites wars,” Arthur sputtered.