Page 48 of Spar of Hearts

“Did you tidy the kitchen last night?” Anya whispered to Blackbird, selecting a bowl of porridge with a swirl of honey.

Blackbird scrunched her brows together. “No. Was I supposed to?”

“No, I just—never mind.”

He did that for me? Anya’s heart fluttered as she glanced at Roderick again, catching his eye. He quickly shifted his attention back down to his breakfast. She struggled to imagine the knight mopping a floor or picking up shards of ceramic on his hands and knees, but there was no other possible explanation.

Give him a chance.

She followed Blackbird to their usual table under the porthole. It was one of the few chances they got to enjoy some true daylight.

A pie was resting in the middle of the tabletop. It looked fresh, hardly a few hours old. Her mouth watered at the sight. She tested the air with a pointed sniff. Mulberry? She hadn’t had mulberry pie since last autumn. She’d been craving it last night. She’d known there was a jar of the damned things somewhere in that kitchen but never found it. The blueberry jam was a poor consolation prize.

“A pie!” Blackbird clapped her hands together. She would often clap for food like she was at the theater. “Annette must have made it for you! She’s so sweet!”

“Pie does actually sound pretty good.” She scooched a chair back and sat. Two plates were stacked beside the pie with a knife laying across.

“See? We just had to find the magic food to stoke your stomach!” Blackbird quickly cut a piece, elegantly moving the slice to the plate and passing it to Anya. Sticky purple berries slid onto the white ceramic.

It is mulberry! Anya grinned eagerly and sliced the side of her spoon into it, slipping the bite between her lips. The smile vanished the moment the crust hit her tongue. Her face contorted into a grimace. The pie was somehow sour, salty, slimy, and dry all at the same time. Not even the gooey, sweet mulberries could redeem such an awful array of tastes and textures. She yanked her handkerchief from her pocket and spat the bite out, scraping her tongue clean with the back of a claw. She didn’t care how uncouth it looked. She just needed that cursed flavor out of her mouth.

She leaned in. “You do not want to try it. I doubt Annette made it.” Blackbird nodded and eyed the pie cautiously, then took a bite of toast.

What a waste of mulberries. She stirred her porridge, waiting for her stomach to settle again.

Anya turned her head as Roderick loudly shoved his chair back and stood, abandoning his breakfast.

She clinked her spoon down. “I’ll be right back.”

Gratitude was bursting inside her. She had to thank him. She couldn’t rest until she confirmed he was the one who saved her skin.

Give him a chance.

She padded near silently behind him, then tugged the back of his shirt before he rounded the corner.

“Roderick—”

He turned around, his striking eyes sending her pulse into a frenzy.

“Oh. Anya,” he said curtly.

She swiveled her head, searching for deckhands nearby. The belly of the ship was empty, save for the galley. “I wanted to thank you for getting me back to my cabin last night. I hope I didn’t make too much of a fool of myself.”

His voice was flat. “You licked my hand and trashed the kitchen. Shall I go on?”

“Oh stars…” Her cheeks burned hot. She hadn’t remembered the licking tidbit. “I pray that was the worst of it. Kindly disregard anything I said last night. I’m not myself when I drink. I was…rather stressed.” She fiddled with the gold ring on her finger, finally cool again.

His expression grew cold as he crossed his arms. “So you cozy up to the nearest folk anytime you drink then?”

“I most certainly do not!”

She wanted to glare at him, to protect her pride with golden daggers ready to crack his glacier eyes. But instead, she took a deep breath and cleared her throat, regaining her composure. He was tired from being up all night cleaning. She had to be patient with him. “My blunders aside, thank you for cleaning the kitchen. At least, I assume it was you. I would’ve felt terrible if Annette had awoken to a disaster like that.”

He huffed a breath and glowered at her. “It was. But heed this, Princess. I know you always had servants to clean up after you at the palace, but don’t get used to treating me or my crew the same way.”

“Your crew?” She balled her claws into fists. This wasn’t just exhaustion. This was cruelty.

“Yes. My crew. I oversee everything while you doze away in the daytime and stargaze at night. I would hardly call what you do ‘work’.”