Chapter 19
Take Me With You
“Saffron’s whereabouts remain unknown, though his men have been sighted both eastward and west. Their aim remains unclear, but it will not be peace.”
— Captain of the King’s Guard
Sitara claimed the woodland village looked untouched, like it had been frozen in time all those years.
At least one good thing had happened since leaving the capital.
With the gold I had earned from capturing the orb, I planned to visit three shops Sitara recommended. None were exactly back up and running yet, but she insisted the owners would be thrilled to help me, and I’d rather give business to these women than anyone else.
The first stop was a tailor. A plump woman with dark skin and pale spots scattered along her body greeted me ecstatically, clearly expecting me. Pulling me into her shop, she placed me on a tree stump in front of a silver mirror.
I looked terrible.
My dark hair was unruly after being washed in the river, and although my sweater was new, it was very plain.
My sharp and narrow features had once again fallen into a resting face of misery. Usually Luna reminded me to soften my expression. Now I had to start reminding myself.
“What can I make for you?” the woman asked, poking her head up behind me. She was elegant, wearing an emerald green gown with intricate black lace. Her hair was braided from the roots, falling down into curls. She was gorgeous.
I had no reason in my life to be gorgeous.
“I’m leaving in the morning. I want something warm, maybe a cloak to go over what I have? Black is suitable, if you have the time.”
She eyed my outfit while nodding and rubbing her chin. “I’ll see what I can do.”
By the time she was done taking my measurements, she offered me three pastries and sent me on my way with a loaf of bread as well.
She probably thought I was wasting away. The food in the Waywards hadn’t been enjoyable beyond a means for survival. I wasn’t muscular at all, more so a frame of whatever fat my body could hold on to and an enclosure for the darkness inside of me.
Next, I stopped by a feed store to secure treats for Kostini, but the third stop was by far the most daunting.
A weapons shop.
I prayed to the Mother that the stone club I so heavily admired was inside and not just part of Zain’s twisted illusion. It hadn’t been gold and ugly like everything else. It was unique.
I reached into my pocket, feeling the weight of my remaining coin. I didn’t know much about the price of such things, but it should have been enough.
Inside the stone shop, a woman, blonde and petite, cleaned a blade. She smiled and set the sword on the counter. “My wife said you’d be stopping by.”
“Your wife?”
She pointed to a crocheted sun on the wall. “Sitara. Are you looking for a sword?”
She pushed her shoulder-length curls away from her face and gestured to the edged blades.
I half-heartedly smiled. “No, a club that was on the Warlock’s display. It had a thin black handle with a flat stone at the end and a violet gem in the center. Do you know where I might find it? I can pay for it.”
I hadn’t been able to say that in a long time.
“It’s interesting you want that one,” she said as she crouched down, rummaging behind the counter.
I lifted onto my toes, but couldn’t see what she was grabbing. “Why is that?”
She popped back up. “Because it was left here by a Blackheart.”
Sitara’s wife dropped a narrow black box on the counter.
The casing had a silver outline of a bladebreather on top, all four of its legs visible, with grand feathered wings and scales lining its body.
The box was still closed, but the stone club called to me, its energy singing through the walls of its enclosure.
Sitara’s wife sighed. “Her name was Viviana. She loved this thing. I was surprised she left it behind.” She opened the lid, revealing the unique weapon.
“I don’t want to take it from someone else,” I said. Even if it were perfect, it wouldn’t feel right.
She slid the box closer. “She’s not coming back. It’s been many years since anyone has heard from Viviana. She would want it to go to another Blackheart.”
Take me with you, the club seemed to say as the violet gem glimmered against the soft light from the window.
“How much do you want for it?” I pulled my coin pouch out of my sagging pocket, setting it on the counter.
“It is not mine to sell. Consider it a gift from your own kind. Viviana would want that.”
Her eyes softened, lips tight. If she was certain that Viviana would want me to have it, then who was I to refuse?
“Thank you.”
“Thank you, 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 were two identical 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, the cloak.
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 hip and 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?”
“Stay alive.” There was a crumb under his lip, and as his thumb slid across his mouth to wipe it away, my core heated in the most despicable way.
I grimaced. “I’ll get the firewood.”
“Make sure it’s dry.”
Being dry would be nice.
I ignored him, venturing out to find the stupid wood—dry wood, as he had so helpfully pointed out. Riven must have believed me to be an idiot. Of course, the firewood needed to be dry. With the snow sticking to the ground, it would be difficult to find ideal pieces, but certainly not impossible.
Or so I thought.
Every piece was drenched, and after more than ten minutes of failure, I sought better options. There was a town in the distance, lit up just through the treeline.
I tapped my orb, awakening it. It glowed softly, like its attention was elsewhere. I tapped it a second time and it reluctantly brightened. Riven would have a fit if he knew I was going into town, but snow-covered bark wasn’t going to get us anywhere but dead.
As the sky darkened, I hurried through the woods, following my orb and the distant lantern lights. It was nice to be on my feet, though even better to be headed towards civilization.
Finally, through the woodline, I tapped my orb off. Cackling came from the back of an establishment, probably a brothel or tavern. I scanned the area for firewood.
“You have pretty eyes, Blackheart.”
A trio of blue-cloaked strangers stalked towards me: one woman and two men. Three sets of crimson eyes.
Sapphires.