Page 22 of Spar of Hearts

Marg winked at Anya. Anya smiled as her parents whispered to each other, inaudible under the rumbles from the delegates. She could always count on Marg. An expedition with Marg, Blackbird, and the crew of the Lupus Star would be a dream.

Anya tensed as Cyrus cleared his throat. That mangy coyote had been far too silent. He may be Elvani, but he attacked her character like a canine hiding in the shadows.

Her father turned to Cyrus. “Yes, Count Scorer?”

Her cousin preened his golden locks as he stood. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” A wicked smile curved his lips, dripping in faux pleasantry. “Since magical enchantments guard the glacial wall, as Her Highness mentioned, I believe it would be safest to rely on the tried-and-true blade over magic. If the Marchioness runs out of mana, Her Highness would be a sitting duck. With Lord Bryson, her protection is all but guaranteed. And rest assured, if Her Highness goes on this expedition, I am prepared to handle her responsibilities here.”

Cyrus was…supporting her? Sort of. That was a first. She thought he’d try to insert himself in the mission in her place. Him recommending Lord Bryson over the Marchioness made sense. Suspicion prickled her nerves, but she took a sip of water and banished the thought. It was best not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Anya didn’t like the idea of Cyrus having his slimy hands in her duties, but it couldn’t be avoided.

Her mother cleared her throat. “Thank you for stepping up, Count Scorer. Delegates?”

The delegates continued rumbling amongst themselves.

“Delegates!” Her father slammed a fist on the table, silencing the hall. “We will utilize a two-pronged approach. Wage incentives will be offered to those who prospect for new mines. With promised pay for their efforts regardless of the result, such an endeavor will no longer pose a financial risk to workers’ families. And while we pray new deposits are discovered—” He took a deep breath and looked to Anya. He was trying to appear confident, but his eyes betrayed his anxiety. “The Princess and Lord Bryson will command a small expedition party to the Kingdom of Aquillas and establish a new trade route. Count Scorer and the Marchioness will handle all the Princess’s duties until her return.”

Chapter 10

Roderick Bryson

Roderick thought things couldn’t get more uncomfortable than the Council session had been.

And then they did.

He was now seated across from the Princess.

With the King and Queen.

At the dinner table.

The dining room was a surprisingly homey space compared to the rest of the pompous palace, with a low, gilded ceiling and long mahogany table spread with a violet runner and a vase of white lilies. A simple chandelier held mage lights that seemed to bring the sun indoors, including its warmth. An expanse of diamond-paned windows faced the sea. A salty sea breeze filled the room, accompanied by the calls of seabirds.

He wore a cream collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a sapphire cravat, and a dark gray vest with gray trousers to match. While he hadn’t thought to bring extra copies of Eldenkeep’s reports, he did always travel with a spare change of clothing suitable for regal occasions.

He chuckled to himself. And she thought me undiplomatic.

Admittedly, he did have most undiplomatic thoughts during the Council session. The way Anya tapped her claws on the table beckoned memories of the previous night: the mystery maiden’s melodious, howling laugh, her soft lips, and best of all, the pearly smile that lit up her face as she wiggled her bare toes in the blanket of clover.

And when Anya tangled her fingers in the necklace that rested on her chest? Well, he was plenty punished for where that drew his eye. Her sleek, starlight gown threw him headfirst into the spell-binding sensation of dancing with the wolf-masked woman.

Why had she run? Did all of Eteross hear of his humiliation aboard the Lupus Star? His gaze flicked to Anya, who was sipping from a goblet of mead with an elegant air. It was possible she had gleefully spread word of his perceived impropriety. Why couldn’t she have taken his offer to court her as a compliment and politely declined? She needn’t have made such a spectacle.

Why did Millicent flee from the safety of your arms?

Why did your precious mystery maiden run into the night?

You know the answer.

“Lord Bryson?”

“Hm?” He swiveled his head and blinked.

“What are your thoughts on that?” the Queen asked.

Oh Divine, she asked me a question. He popped his knuckles absentmindedly. He was normally far more attentive than this.

“I should like to hear Her Highness’s thoughts first.”

He grinned to himself and loosened his cravat. That was a good save. Confidence restored, he took a sip of mead, relishing the taste of wit and berries.