Page 100 of Spar of Hearts

Millicent hadn’t liked when he touched her. In fact, she seemed to find him rather revolting as a potential mate. He couldn’t help it. He thought that a proper hug, or a perfectly timed kiss would make her romantic feelings for him bloom.

He’d always longed for physical affection in every form. Being scooped up by Granddad and placed on his shoulders, or his mother’s arms encircling him as he whipped pear custard, it’s what made him feel secure and happy.

Then Granddad died. Father became more reclusive than ever, and Mother retreated into herself. Roderick could tell she only had enough spirit in her to get through the day and keep him fed—so he retreated too.

Percival was the one who wanted warm hugs and stories by the fire.

Roderick didn’t need them.

So he walled himself off to everyone, except Millicent. She was soft and warm, and her kind heart and glowing smile made him feel like the world wasn’t such a cold and hateful place. When he grew into a man, she was all he could think about. It became almost unbearable.

Until he found a place that promised him relief.

Anya’s excited yips jolted Roderick from his memories. Unbeknownst to him, Anya was several feet ahead of him. He looked up just in time to see her tail disappear around a rocky corner.

We did it! I can see a town! Anya barked. Roderick jogged to catch up to her. His jaw hung open as he took in the view.

Colorful cottages lined the gushing river, with thatched roofs and bold, dark trim that made geometric lines pleasing to the eye. Boats were tied up in front of every structure. The waterfront was dotted with wooden docks. Cobblestone streets ran through more rows of shops and homes, gradually rising into steppes. Shrubs and cold weather trees added green to the mix while a buzzing daytime populous gave life.

His ancestors could be down there, buying apples, trading fabrics, hauling in their catch. Anticipation tingled up his neck. He couldn’t wait to meet them.

“So…Are you ready to meet the Weres?” Roderick asked.

Anya’s tail whipped back and forth as she stared at the town. I’ve only ever dreamed of this. Weres! Real life Weres! Do you think they’ll like me?

Her ears suddenly flattened, and her tail stilled. Or will they think I’m a freak?

“I think I’m the freak of the two of us.” He chuckled.

Anya looked down at her paws. I was thinking about what Marguerite said—about your kind not being welcome here. It may be best if you hide your fangs for now, and pretend to be a Were.

His throat tightened at the thought of hiding again. Hadn’t Anya heard the stories about some Vampires living beyond the glacial wall? Had none of them truly left Valeria when the humans arrived?

Anya brushed against his leg. I didn’t mean to offend you. I just don’t want you to get hurt.

“I know.” He sighed. “I’ll retract them. Give me a moment.”

His lips curled up as he tried to tighten the muscle above his gums that kept his fangs down. He gaped his mouth. He tried to wiggle them. He even tried thinking, “retract!” like he was a damn mage, but they didn’t budge.

Anya cocked her head and squinted at him with her tiny wolf eyes. Do you always make faces like that when you do this?

“No. It’s been so long,” he admitted. “I’m out of practice.”

He cracked his neck, grit his teeth, squeezed his eyes shut and focused every ounce of control on his fangs.

With a painful jolt, they finally snapped up into his gums. He gaped his mouth, running his tongue over the front of his teeth to check their position. A vise-like ache wormed its way into his jaw.

“All set. Let’s go,” he said with a slight lisp. He frowned, opening and shutting his mouth a few times. Divine, he’d even gotten used to speaking with his fangs down. But at least Anya didn’t laugh at him.

They trekked down the steadily declining path that ran along the mountainside, weaving around jutting chunks of ice and stone, until the dirt path finally turned to cobble. His heart thundered in his chest as they crossed a wooden bridge, finding themselves right in the middle of a bustling street permeated with the earthy, slightly fishy smell of the river.

Wolves of every color and size trotted between and beside the bipedal beings. While some were clearly Elves, others looked oddly human, but Roderick knew that wasn’t possible. They had to be Weres.

Some of the Elves boasted antlers or horns of all kinds: deer, elk, moose, and even more he couldn’t identify that twisted and angled every which way. He shielded his eyes from the sun and peered down every side road they passed, but there wasn’t a pair of red eyes or fangs in sight. His shoulders dropped as his healthy gait turned into a shuffle. A horse-drawn wagon laden with blue and white lupine flowers trotted past. The Elves sitting on the back of the wagon disappeared behind the dust hanging in the sun’s rays.

“Jewels?” a scratchy voice grumbled, like every word was being strangled from its throat. “Jewels for the lady?” Roderick looked down at his side, where a scarred, bronze Kobold scampered beside Anya. The Kobold barely came up to the tips of Anya’s ears. It was odd seeing a Kobold out in the open like this, or speaking so well aloud, for that matter.

Anya snarled at the Kobold. Back off.