Page 106 of Spar of Hearts

“Ordinary?”

“Yes,” Anya said with a smile. “Exactly.”

How could he tell her she was anything but ordinary? And in the most wonderful, extraordinary way?

“Two pannu kakku,” the server said with a little hint of a singsong voice. “The best in Aquillas!”

He reluctantly released her fingers. Hunger bested heart for now.

The way Anya’s eyes lit up at the food made him smile. It was a large, flat cake piled high with blueberries, powdered sugar, and maple syrup. He took a bite, falling headlong into his childhood at the custard-like texture of the center. Throw some pears on here and he was home.

“Roderick? Are you all right?”

“Hm?” He swallowed the bite he’d been savoring far too long. “Oh. Yes. It’s this food. It reminds me of home. Before.” A melancholy smile tugged his lips. “My mother made the best pear custard.”

As soon as the words left his tongue, Anya bit her lip and tapped her claws on the table. Was she nervous? She hadn’t been a second ago.

“Is there something—”

“What are your parents like?” she asked hastily, stuffing a too-large bite into her mouth.

He thought for a moment. “My father is cold. I suppose he always has been, but it truly came out after the Gathering. I can’t blame him for that.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “My mother has always been quiet, kind and patient. But she withdrew even more after the Gathering. I think she was afraid to love me more than she already did. Like one day she’d wake up, and I’d be gone, and if she kept her distance, the pain wouldn’t be so bad.”

That was how it had always been for him—folk he loved with all his heart keeping him at an arm’s length. Hedging their bets. Guarding their hearts. He could dress it up however he wanted, but at the end of the day, it meant the same thing:

Loving you isn’t worth it.

Now it was his turn. Anya would inevitably leave him. Even if she embraced him now, she’d eventually return to Eteross, marry someone of much higher status than he, and live happily ever after.

He was bound for heartbreak. So why couldn’t he do it? It was easy, right? A mere spar of hearts. He knew the defense. Look away when she smiles. Step away when she sidles up. Ignore the silk of her hair, and the golden hues in her eyes, the way she gazed at the moon and brushed her cheek on his chest…

Anya clinked her fork down, jarring him from the morning’s blissful memory. “Can I ask you something else?”

“Of course.”

“How did your family escape the Gathering? Weren’t your names and species listed in the Church records? Their marriage, your new life blessing?”

“They were. Or are, I suppose.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “My name wasn’t always Roderick Bryson.”

Anya parted her lips to speak, then pressed them into a thin line. She was curious.

A little rush ran up his spine.

If he could tell anyone, it was her. Moreover, he wanted to tell her.

“Percival Toulouse,” he said, staring down at the blueberries left on his plate. “That was my name.”

“Percival,” Anya repeated. His heart nearly leapt out of his chest. He never, ever, ever in his near thirty years expected to hear that name come out of another’s mouth, let alone hers.

“Percy, my family called me.”

“Have you ever wanted to go back to it?”

“Back to being Percival?” He stared into his ale, focusing on the bubbles clinging to the sides of the flagon. “Never. He—I’m the reason my granddad died. Didn’t listen to orders, cried, hid. And he paid the price.” Horror grew on Anya’s face as he told her everything in detail, from the Centarian hunters in the streets to the red-eyed girl in the alley. He couldn’t stop. He’d never told anyone what happened that day, not even Millicent, but it kept spilling out. “So when my father handed me the piece of paper with my new name, I decided to be different. And that’s how you ended up with an insufferable oaf like me.”

“You’re not insufferable,” she said softly. Her lips ticked up in a sly smile. “Though you may be an oaf. I’m still deciding that one. But you do need another drink. I’ll be right back.” She grazed her claws over the back of his hand before striding to the bar and returning with two fresh flagons.