Page 114 of Spar of Hearts

The stars…you’ll watch with me, won’t you? Anya’s soft, longing voice as he pulled her out of the sea and warmed her in the circle of his arms soothed his aching bones.

By some Divine-wrought miracle, Anya was giving him a second chance. She’d seen his worst, his best, even his sand coated, sea-stained, crab-killing self who probably smelled like rotten fish until today.

So he’d better seize it.

Ready your swords, gentlemen, we’re going headfirst into heartbreak.

Anya’s starshine eyes and howling cheers drew the rest of his strength to his legs, then his arms. Roderick muscled Henrik’s foot off his neck and forced him against a post with a single arm, swiping the blood from his face. Henrik growled, but Roderick pressed the man’s spine harder against the post.

“What…are…you?” Henrik croaked, clawing at his throat.

Roderick’s fangs released as he hissed, “I’m her knight.”

He slammed Henrik to the ground with a hollow thud.

“One!”

“Two!”

“Three!”

“THAT’S MATCH!” The announcer rang the bell, jumped into the ring and thrust Roderick’s arm in the air. Anya was a gorgeous mess of happy tears at the edge of the ring, howling and clapping for him.

“WE HAVE A NEW CHAMPION!”

“You did it!” Anya cheered, waving Roderick’s shirt in the air. He flew from the ring and rushed her with a spinning hug, turning the crowds into a blur. While the world clamored around them, her beaming smile stayed steadfast on him, an anchor in his tumultuous life.

Their spar of hearts was almost over.

Chapter 38

Roderick Bryson

Roderick had intended to sweep Anya off her feet and carry her to the perfect romantic camping spot, but his aching bones had other ideas. He set her down with an apology and a sheepish grin.

“If I didn’t just see you get the daylights kicked out of you, I would be offended,” Anya teased, strolling beside him. They made their way east, filtering through a crowd almost entirely of Weres, until they came to a clearing where the market had been earlier, still bustling with merchants, including the bookseller. Anya spotted it in an instant. Her eyes lit up. Roderick could tell she wanted to sprint over, slam their gold down and perhaps even smack the merchant across the face with the book, but she stayed in step with him, her fingers pulsing with eager energy.

Normally, he would have told her to go on ahead. But tonight, he wanted to savor every moment he had with her by his side, before he told her everything on his heart. Tonight, everything would change.

“I told you lot, five silver! No holds!” the bookseller barked as he saw them approach.

Anya slapped a palm down, shaking the whole table, then slowly revealed a gold piece. The merchant’s eyes widened.

“I’ll be needing change.”

A safe distance from the bewildered bookseller, they sat on the edge of a babbling stone fountain, with a looming sculpture of a muscular Were clad in battle armor and holding a sword. An inscription was engraved in the ancient tongue and Common on a bronze plaque at the foot:

Airson Prionnsa a’ Gheamhraidh, a chumas ar rìoghachd làidir.

For the Winter Prince, who keeps our kingdom strong.

Winter Prince was right. Roderick got chills the moment he realized the sword was pointing south, toward the glacial wall. Was the Winter Prince its creator? Or his father, or his father’s father? How long did Weres and Elves live?

And what exactly would the Winter Prince do when he learned Valerians were wandering past his borders right this very minute?

Roderick forced his attention to Anya, who was flipping feverishly through the symptom index, then slammed a chunk of pages to one side. She ran her finger along the lines as she read aloud:

“Holler mushroom: a rare poisonous fungi that grows on exposed sycamore roots. Ingestion causes fever, chills, cough, and black phlegm. Fatal within…six to twelve hours?”