Page 38 of Spar of Hearts

“Should we wake Her Highness?” Bernard rubbed the lens of the spyglass on his half-unbuttoned shirt.

“No. No. Let me think a moment.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and paced the bow, taking deep breaths of salty air.

If I wake Anya, she’ll say there was an obvious answer I missed.

If I don’t wake her, she’ll accuse me of usurping her authority.

If I do nothing, I’m an idiot.

An idea struck him. Ingenious—Anya would never think of it.

“I’ll be right back!”

He sprinted to the stern where Yomira dozed away, waiting for the midday sun to warm her bones. She’d pushed herself to fly them to Little Wing in the middle of the night last week, so he’d let her sleep to her heart’s content, and she’d taken full advantage.

“Yomira.” He placed a hand on her snout. Heat radiated from her body like a warm brazier of coals. She huffed and pulled her snout closer to her flank, then covered it with her wing.

“Yomira, you’ve slept for over a week. I need your help.” He ducked under her membranous wing and knelt in front of her good eye. “Wake up!”

Her ruby eye peeked open.

I was about to eat the most delicious cow…

“I’ll get you all the cows you can eat when we finish the expedition. I need some flying firepower.”

Fine. She huffed through her nares. Shifting scales and cracking, behemoth joints filled his ears as she stood and stretched. Where am I going?

“The icebergs on the horizon. I need you to melt them down.”

Icebergs? Yomira tilted her head in confusion.

Right. The wyvern was either in a dungeon or living in the middle of the Valerian mainland all her life.

“Big chunks of ice. Bluish white.” He drew a jagged shape in the air with both hands. “That way.”

I’ll see what I can do.

The ship bucked back to front as it shed the wyvern’s weight. He gripped the baluster for balance and watched her dart above the clouds.

In a few minutes, Yomira was upon the iceberg, blasting it with multicolored tongues of flame. She was dwarfed in comparison to the floating mass. The streams became weaker and weaker as she approached the berg at different angles until she was spitting out mere sparks. So much for that plan.

He turned to the crew and sighed. “Steer us to the east. And unfurl the fore-and-aft sails. The further we get from the coast, the better. The icebergs must be splitting from the glacial wall. We’ll correct our course once we’re clear of them. If the Princess gives any of you a hard time, direct her to me.”

“Aye aye.” Ornella took the helm and adjusted their course.

Roderick gulped the knot forming in his throat.

The most treacherous berg was still asleep beneath his feet.

Chapter 17

Anya Delemond

“Thank you for dinner, Annette. Or, I suppose it’s breakfast. I don’t know how you turn salt pork and carrots into such a feast, but you do.” Anya beamed at the cook as she collected their plates. She’d practically licked her dish clean. Clinking plates and silverware surrounded them as the rest of the crew ate with similar gusto. Her mood had improved markedly since adjusting to their new nocturnal schedule. Starry nights, unencumbered moonlight, and best of all: no Roderick.

“Is it magic?” Blackbird’s eyes were sparkling. “It’s magic, isn’t it?”

Magic food. That would be Blackbird’s dream come true.