Page 12 of Spar of Hearts

Or the chill of the Duke’s ominous words. They still haunted him.

Any delays aside from stormy skies, and I will be forced to re-evaluate your position.

What would his parents do if he lost his title and land? Where would they live? Would they disown him? They didn’t need him to protect them anymore. They had finally been proud of him when he earned his title, though he’d nearly died accomplishing it. Even becoming a knight had failed to impress them.

Being a knight isn’t a noble title, his father had said. Your silly sword cannot protect us from blood testing.

He banished the worries easily by sneaking a glance at the woman. This maiden, with her beautiful tresses that shimmered against her midnight dress, had all but washed them away with a tap of her claw and howling laugh. A princess like Anya would never dream of coming to such a place.

He beckoned her to sit as they reached a stone fountain. The babbling water and chirp of cicadas was much preferred to the music inside. The music had begun to pound in his head, but it wasn’t nearly as loud as the thrum of his heart in his chest as he sat beside this mystery woman.

Socks long gone, he relished the sensation of clover between his toes. She seemed to be enjoying it too, raising her toes and digging her heels into the ground in a slow, repetitive motion.

She rested her head on his shoulder and stared up at the night sky.

“Which one is your favorite?” Roderick asked, following her gaze.

“Vulpecula,” she answered, without a moment’s hesitation. “The little fox. Yours?”

“You,” he answered with a grin.

She laughed and shoved his arm. “I’m no star, you fool. Pick a real one!”

“Then call me a fool. I know stars live in the heavens, but I swear there’s a wanderer beside me.”

A melancholy smile curved her lips. “If only. If only I could wander wherever my feet would take me. Without worry. Without fear. Without people ready to pounce when I’m finally admiring the view.”

How could a woman like her be forced into a suffocating life? She practically carried the wind in her hair.

“I will gladly vanquish whoever dares to stifle your joy.” He wanted to brandish his rapier, but he’d left it at the inn. Words would have to do.

“If only you could.”

“I think you could get me to do a lot of things.” He tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. A little blush colored her neck as she looked away.

“By the way, you haven’t told me yours,” he said quietly.

“My what?” She turned her masked face back to him. The wolfish visage fit her golden eyes perfectly. It was like staring into the face of the lunar goddess he’d been told stories of by Elvani traders. He momentarily forgot what he was saying.

“Hello?” She waved a clawed hand in front of his face, and the words came back. He snatched her hand out of the air, then pressed a gentle kiss to her fingers.

He lifted his eyes to meet hers. “The little things you notice. How you take your tea. Your favorite sweet. The words you whisper to a lover. I want to know all that and more.”

The woman pondered for a moment, holding two claws to her chin. His eyes dropped to her pink lips. They looked soft. How would they feel against his? How would she taste if he—

Get a hold of yourself. He scolded himself with a flick on the wrist and popped his knuckles. He resolved not to have his fangs out tonight. He didn’t want to expose a single aspect of his normal life. That was why he was here and not back at The Three Hares with Octavio. That, and he was worried Anya would be there. Lady Rowan was quite fond of Octavio, and the two women seemed to never go anywhere without the other. Tonight, he was far from all that. Tonight, he was just a man.

The woman whispered, “You pop your knuckles when you’re unsure of yourself. Rose hip with nothing else. Warm mulberry pie, and”—her bergamot perfume flooded his senses as she leaned closer. She grabbed his chin, tipping his face side to side to examine it like a fine sculpture—“your wanton expression is a work of art. It seems a shame to sate it and erase it, but I think I may have to.”

“Your words make it seem like I’m the lover you’re speaking to.” A breathy laugh escaped his chest. He could hardly believe how this evening was going. It was as if he’d been cut free from the weights of his life in the daylight. From the night he’d stopped taking the Rhodias flower, everything felt heavy, yet hollow. Even the smallest tasks were a mighty burden on his mind. But when his head hit the pillow, it all seemed a useless effort: nothing truly accomplished; nothing worthwhile gained. Horses were trained. Drills were run. Then the cycle repeated.

But tonight was different. Life felt so light, so authentic, despite their ornate masks and verdant vision. The woman’s smile held a luminous glow, casting warmth on his face. A beaming grin crossed his own, testing muscles he hadn’t used in quite some time.

“You could be, for tonight.” The woman’s canine eyes locked with his as she tugged his shirt collar, and by the Divine, he was happy to be her prey.

“I’d like that,” he said with a hush, tipping her chin up. His eyes fell to her lips.

“This may prove difficult with the masks…” she murmured, leaning closer and parting her lips.