Page 35 of Spar of Hearts

“Listen, you stinking son-of-a—”

“My Lord!” Sir Oshfeldt called, pulling Blackbird away from a cat-sized peregrine griffin. She waved goodbye to it and came along willingly. “Where have you be—”

Roderick cut him off. “Don’t worry, I didn’t let Her Highness forget the ale. You will have your vice.”

Sir Oshfeldt gaped his mouth and looked between Roderick and Blackbird. “I-I don’t—It’s not a vice! What are you talking about?”

“I am only kidding, Octavio. But we do need ale. Captain Verden will be heartbroken if he can’t share a drink with me. You don’t want that, do you, Princess?”

It was a rather affordable voyage as it stood, given the small crew and even smaller number of passengers. They could spare a few coins for some alcohol if it lifted the crew’s spirits.

“Fine. You take care of that if you want it so badly.” Anya’s claws barely grazed his open palm as she handed over six silver pieces, enough to get the entire crew drunk.

“Well? Get on then,” Anya goaded. “Have it brought to the ship. Lady Rowan and I will finish the list, greet the crew and get started on the port paperwork. Or have you forgotten time is of the essence?”

Roderick whirled his head back to face her.

“I could never forget that,” he muttered, clenching the coins in his hand. “Or how low you think of me, apparently.” He stalked off toward the brewer’s. Sir Oshfeldt parried his attention between his liege and herself, deciding who to follow.

Anya sighed. “We can manage ourselves, Sir Oshfeldt.” She tapped her scabbard. “Please keep him out of trouble.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” The knight bowed hastily and trotted after Roderick.

“He saw the children too, Anya,” Blackbird said softly as they walked to the port.

“I suppose he did.” She hiked her pack up her shoulders. She felt a little guilty, but goading Roderick seemed to be the only effective distraction from worrying about the children back in Balcott. They seemed far from his mind already.

They worked through the list at a steady clip, finally reaching the docks after a brief sojourn to the library. Their first week in Valerian waters was routine sailing and wouldn’t require her expertise. It was precious time she could devote to reading up on Aquillan legends. It wasn’t mere speculation anymore. After Marg’s admission, these tomes were as academic as any other.

Her thoughts shifted to the voyage as the Lupus Star’s telltale claw print flag rose above the rest of the billowing sails.

Dread swirled in her gut. Was it too soon to send Marg a message? Was Cyrus already sniffing around her parents, planting seeds of doubt in their minds? If she sent a letter now, she might be able to get a reply before they reached uncharted waters. Once they reached that point, even the most powerful of mages wouldn’t be able to put their location into a hawk’s mind.

But if my ring heats up, or an urgent message comes, it isn’t like I can do anything.

She could make the ship turn around.

But that wasn’t an option. That would never be an option. Even if the ring burnt her finger to a crisp, she would toss it overboard and keep going. She owed it to those children—the next generation of Centarians. They deserved to live healthy, full lives in their homeland. It wouldn’t make up for what their parents were denied, but it was better than nothing at all.

Carried by her anxiety-fueled steps, the gangplank of the Lupus Star was upon them in an instant. Deckhands scurried up and down, hauling wooden crates and burlap sacks of rations and supplies.

“Ahoy, Yer Highness!” Captain Verden called, waving from the stern. He hustled over to the gangplank and barely skirted around a Lycanian man rolling a barrel up to the deck.

He bowed low, then shook her hand up and down in a wild manner. “‘Twas a pleasure to receive your request to charter our humble ship for such an important job!”

“Only the best will do,” she replied with a chuckle, watching his hand continue to shake hers.

“And we’ll do our best ta’ serve you.” The captain finally released her claws. “His Grace already issued cabin assignments. He’s helping inventory the supplies now. I must say thank you for the ale! It will surely lift our spirits on those still nights at sea!”

“Oh, aha, yes—you are most welcome.” She didn’t register what he said, just accepted his gratitude absentmindedly as she ran up the gangplank.

How did that bastard get here so quickly? She must have spent more time at the library than she thought. She wanted to take over inventory, but it would only waste time. Roderick was out of the way and being useful. While voyages from one end of Valeria to the other or to Eteross and back could be easily managed by the captain and first mate, an expedition of this length and a crew of this size doubled the work, requiring her and Roderick to shoulder some duties. There had to be something else she could do.

Cabin assignments, done. Inventory in progress. Think, Anya, think.

She finally settled on inspecting the ship and rigging. She breezed through her inspection, pleased to see every board and sail in perfect shape. With that done, she took Roderick’s cabin assignment list and accounted for every deckhand and sailor. Dame Theresa Fletcher arrived by mid-morning, marking their final passenger.

“Ahoy, Captain! All hands accounted for!” Anya called from the bow, waving the parchment to catch his eye.