Page 103 of Spar of Hearts

He said nothing would change his feelings for her—but what did that mean? What were his feelings for her? Friendship? Loyalty?

The emotions spilled out of her like rain bubbling from the contours of a flower. Mother Moon, I love him. I love him. I love him. I want him to love me. All of me. But how could he? How could he ever love a wolf? He needs his own kind, someone who doesn’t growl and writhe in their sleep every full moon.

He needs a mate.

Not a monster.

Chapter 35

Roderick Bryson

“Well? How do I look?”

Roderick’s heart stuttered as he took Anya in. She did a quick spin, flaring out the skirt of her dress. Her wavy hair was slightly damp, making little dark spots on the cotton overdress and dandelion bodice just above her chest. The dress hugged her hips, and without the bustled skirts of her old clothes, revealed an endearing, ever so slight press against the fabric from her lower belly that would make any good man feral.

How could Anya be so soft, but so tough all at the same time? She was a rose, and he was all too happy to hold her by the stem with both hands.

“Roderick?”

“Dress.”

“What?”

“Yes! I mean yes.”

He shook his head. He was lucky the bath across from Anya’s had opened up, but now he wondered if the near-boiling water had cooked his mind. But it could be Rhodias withdrawal. It had been two days since he last took it.

“I look…yes?”

“Yes.” An exasperated sigh rushed from his chest, punctuated by a chuckle. “You look lovely.”

They started toward the town, which they now knew as Traansa. The market threw them headfirst into Aquillan culture, from colorful dresses with ruffled sleeves and elaborately braided hairdos to berry-based treats and roasted reindeer.

“Books! Tomes! Scrolls of magic!” a Were merchant called in a scratchy voice.

Anya’s pupils widened at the sight of the towering tomes. He could practically see the academic cogs in her mind turning already. And in perfect time too. The apothecary was a few doors down from the book-laden wagon and surrounding tables.

“Roderick, I’d—”

“—like to look at the books?”

Anya nodded.

He smiled. “You should. I will go to the outfitters while you look to your heart’s content.” He pressed a copper coin into her palm. It was usually enough for a book. In Valeria, at least. And if it wasn’t, he’d haul a hundred nets to get it for her.

While Anya started rifling through the stacks, Roderick slipped away to the apothecary. A little bell chimed as he entered. He looked back to see if Anya noticed, then exhaled. She was literally nose deep in a book. She might even be sniffing it purely for the thrill of it.

An Elf with dusty-rose hair waved to him from behind the counter, with a granite pestle in hand.

“Let me know if you need any help.”

Iron letters mounted to the walls separated each section alphabetically. He quickly found a jar of Rhodias with a cork top, then flipped the parchment tag over.

Two copper.

Are you really going to spend what little hard-earned money you have on this? Anya didn’t get covered in fish guts just so you could coddle your mind. This is pathetic. You’re supposed to protect her, and you can’t even fend off your own thoughts.

He set the jar back down but didn’t release it from his fingers. The skin-deep memory of Anya’s cheek on his chest made a gentle glow warm his heart. He was important to her. She cared about him. Nothing the voices said could erase that.