Page 128 of Spar of Hearts

Their letter went over about as well as Roderick expected. He and Anya sat on the steps of a fountain near a rickety cart overflowing with pink and yellow flowers, watching knights swarm the tavern. They decided to stay close in case they tried to arrest the barkeep. So far, nothing yet.

Anya had shifted back, face shadowed in her oversize cloak.

Seeing her in her Lycanian form again made him breathe a little easier. Social cues were difficult to begin with. Taking them from a wolf was a nightmare. He adored the little scrunch to Anya’s nose and eyes as she peered down the street at the tavern.

Folk occasionally looked their way, but Roderick made sure they appeared to be nothing less than starry-eyed lovers.

Easy as pie.

He smiled to himself. I’m going to need to find a new metaphor.

“I don’t see any swords drawn. And they don’t seem too agitated.” Anya continued to tell him about the sentries’ mutterings she had overheard earlier.

“If we’re lucky, they’ll think Henrik is just a sore loser,” he said, stepping up to the flower cart. Just sitting here would look suspicious.

And this shade of pink would bring out the color in Anya’s cheeks.

He plunked a copper half piece into the “honor-system” box and selected the most lively bloom.

“Close your eyes,” he said, kneeling in front of Anya.

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

She obeyed, squeezing them shut and covering them with her clawed fingers for good measure. Roderick brushed a hand through her hair, then slipped the flower behind her ear. Even under the cloak hood, she was an image of spring, with hair of dandelions and eyes like the sun, cheeks pink, and a grassy-green overdress, with a crisp white shift underneath. The sudden poet in him likened it to the clouds overhead.

And they had new beginnings on the horizon too.

He pulled back slowly, tracing her jawline on the way.

She touched a hand up to the flower, a slight melancholy smile crossing her face. “Thank you. It reminds me of the spring flower festival. I always wanted to make a flower crown.”

“Why didn’t you?” He imagined her in a whole crown of flowers. It suited her more than diamonds and gold. And in his mind’s eye, she also had a shimmering smile with the blooming circlet.

“It was something only the townsfolk children did. You can imagine my parents didn’t think it a proper activity for a young princess. Even if it wasn’t a full moon. I’d hear them argue. ‘What if she shifts?’ ‘Or bites?’” She laughed bitterly. “Well, they weren’t completely off base on the second one…” Her voice trailed off as she stared at the flower cart. The knights continued talking amongst themselves in the distance, the words incomprehensible from here, but still unbothered in tone.

“I wish we had met as children,” Roderick admitted.

Anya turned to him. “Why?”

“If I’d seen you then, I wouldn’t have rested until I made you the perfect flower crown. And…I think we would’ve understood each other. If you’d seen my fangs, I know you wouldn’t have screamed or called for the knights.”

“And what would I have done instead?” she asked, eyes glinting with curiosity.

“Probably asked me a million questions. For academic purposes, of course. Maybe even told me your secret. Then we would’ve been best friends. I’d loiter around the palace gates, just hoping to catch a glimpse of you. Maybe we would’ve played together in the woods at night, swam at the beach, or watched the stars.”

Anya yawned and rested her head on his shoulder. “Then what?” she murmured.

He slipped his arm around her, securing her at his side as he lazily wound a golden strand of hair that escaped her hood. Humming to think for a moment, he continued, “Breaking my back to become the stable boy at the palace. Then a squire, as soon as I’d turned fifteen. I would’ve introduced you to the horses, so you’d never have to fear them. Maybe even taught you how to ride. And when I became a knight, I would’ve had no one in my sights but you. I think you would’ve resisted, at first. But I would’ve won you over. Rocks on your window, flowers on your doorstep. Just a lovestruck Centarian knight. And then—”

He felt Anya’s face tilt up in a smile. “And then you’d become my Prince.”

“If you’d have me.” He meant it.

“I’d like that,” she murmured, rubbing her cheek on his shoulder.

Roderick rested his eyes and rubbed her arm up and down, losing track of time between her soft breaths and the babbling fountain, until she tensed tighter than a bowstring.