Page 33 of Spar of Hearts

Rod? Yomira thought. He peered down at the current.

You deserve the cold, relieving darkness of the depths.

Rod! Rod! Yomira grumbled beneath him, but the voices kept winning.

The expedition needs Anya to succeed. Not you. Think of the children. She will do better without you. Just like Millicent.

Let her go.

His grip on her horns loosened.

Roderick! Roderick! Yomira’s panicked screeches and rushing wind barely chipped away at his stupor.

“Roderick!” Anya’s terrified scream rang in his ears as her sharp claws dug into his shirt, yanking him out of the muck in his mind. “Tell her to stop!”

As his grip on Yomira’s horns became steadfast once again, the wyvern whipped her wings out to slow their descent. His heart hammered in his chest, throbbing and pulsing like an overfed flame. He looked down at the waters, now only a stone’s throw away.

The wyvern heard everything he had and must have dived down to keep him safe in case he listened to the voices. A fall from this height would have only been a wake-up call, not a long sleep six feet under.

I’m all right now, thank you, Yomira. He closed his eyes and grounded himself in her bellowing breaths. In. Out. Powerful lungs. Powerful breaths. In. Out. Please do not tell anyone.

Who would I tell, genius? He could hear weak humor in the wyvern’s voice. He’d truly frightened her.

He turned his head as a sniff came from behind him. Anya was still clinging to him, trembling and crying. Incredibly, Lady Rowan was asleep against Octavio. The knight was wide eyed, and more terrified than he’d ever seen him, even in the face of a horde of goblins.

Anya swiped her cheeks on his shirt to dry her tears. “Never do that again.”

She meant Yomira’s daring dive, of course. She must have thought he asked her to do it. But a tiny prick reminded him of the terror he’d felt seeing the state of the Centarian islands. How could he heap that kind of trauma on Anya, Lady Rowan, Octavio and Yomira? If they had to witness him act on such thoughts, they would never be the same.

He focused on counting Anya’s every claw through the fabric of his shirt. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. He repeated the count with her right hand, focusing on the sensation of her fingers pressing into his skin, pushing and stretching his cotton shirt.

He was alive. He wasn’t alone. He hadn’t fallen.

I would’ve caught you. Yomira rumbled. Her single red eye looked back at him. Someone will always catch you, if you tell them you’re falling.

Chapter 15

Anya Delemond

The plush bed at the Phoenix Nest failed to garner Anya any restful sleep. She even tried sleeping as a wolf, but it only served to make Blackbird more comfortable. Her lady-in-waiting never turned down the chance to share a bed with a fluffy, cuddly wolf that wouldn’t eat her.

As soon as morning light hit the stained glass of their room, she got up and moving. Blackbird, of course, woke with some cajoling. And a pillow to the face. But she’d be damned if she let Roderick call her a princess for “sleeping in” on the first day of their expedition.

She fiddled with the foreign fashion that was the belt meant to bring her shirt and trouser ensemble together as she recounted Yomira’s daring dive the night before. It had seemed far simpler than a corset, but her claws kept digging into the black leather and catching on the tiny metal buckles, made to hold her scabbard as well.

“You really don’t remember any of that?” she asked incredulously, tugging at the contraption.

“I remember when we landed,” Blackbird answered with a shrug. “I feel so safe with Sir Oshfeldt, I must have drifted off.”

“You should tell him that. He might walk on air to Aquillas.” She shoved the white shirt under her high-waisted trousers. The flowing sleeves came down to her elbows, which she tucked into thin leather gloves. She needed to be agile aboard the ship. If she tripped over her skirts in front of Roderick, she would never hear the end of it. She had practical dresses along, but she wanted to get her sea legs back before daring to wear them.

“What? No!” Blackbird scoffed and struggled to pull her arm through the sleeve of her linen day dress. “You jest.”

“I would never jest about matters of the heart!” Anya laughed and helped Blackbird pull her arm through. Three taps at the door silenced her laughter and sent her pulse into a frenzy.

“We’re awake! We were waiting for you!” Anya called, forcing her black boots on as she made her way to the door.

“All right, um, good for you?” Sir Oshfeldt’s voice came through the crack in the door.