Page 49 of Spar of Hearts

She recoiled at that, her vulnerable moment trampled by his cruel words. Insulting her love for the stars was a step too far. She wanted to tuck tail and run—run before he said something worse, something her heart would never recover from. But instead, she jumped behind the familiar comforting shield of a biting word.

“You’re an ass.” She tipped her head up, tightening her posture. “I come to offer my gratitude, and you insult me.”

“Oh I apologize, Princess!” he spat the last word. “Should I grovel at your feet? Pledge my sword-oath to you for something as piteous as a thank you? Am I a dog?” He brought his hands to his chest in a begging motion. “Pat my head, Your Highness, and my heart is yours!”

“Aha!” She stepped to him, pointing a claw at his chest. “So you already know you’re a son of a bitch!”

“Maybe so. But I bow to the mightiest bitch of them all.” He ducked low.

Anya gasped. “Mangy cur!”

“Spoiled brat!” Roderick hissed. “I thought I knew who you were, but I was wrong. I should’ve left you in that kitchen—let your immature, drunken outburst become a spectacle for the whole crew! And make no mistake—I didn’t clean that kitchen for you. I did it for Annette, because unlike you, I actually care about this crew!”

She stumbled back into the wall, eyes wide.

I knew it.

It was all an act.

“I don’t think you’ve ever cared about anyone but yourself!” she cried. “Glory hounding your way through the evacuation, trashing me before the Crown and Council—bending the knee before another man’s wife?”

“Don’t you dare mention Millicent! Ever!” Roderick slammed a hand into the wall only inches from her face, shadowing her in his wake as he yelled, “I cared for her every waking moment! I worked until my bones cracked! I threw myself in front of an assassin’s blade for the slimmest chance of gaining a noble title! And why, you ask? Not pride. Not greed. It was because of you! Your family! The Divine-damned Delemonds! And after all that, she still didn’t love me. So I let her go, because I loved her.” His chest heaved. “So don’t you ever, ever say I don’t care!”

Anya brandished her cutlass with a swift metallic slide. Fear imbued her words with confidence she no longer truly felt.

“Take one more step and I swear I will run you through.”

“Do it.” He challenged her with a steely gaze. “What’s the blood of one more Centarian on Delemond hands?”

His eyes held depths of hatred she never imagined. The man she had such a tender dream of was practically seething with hatred. She couldn’t trust what he would do next. Her pupils became fearful slits as she tightened her claws around the hilt of her cutlass.

But she couldn’t do it.

Sir Oshfeldt burst around the corner, ripping Roderick away from her. Wood cracked as he threw Roderick against the opposite wall. Her cutlass clattered to the floor.

“What the blazes is wrong with you?” he shouted at Roderick. “Do you have a death wish?!”

The senseless rage seemed to fade from Roderick’s eyes, like something had possessed him. He blinked fast. His eyes traced down his arm to his hand, then back up at Anya.

The rush of fear that kept her upright descended into her chest, forcing her breaths out in ragged heaves.

I almost told him. Tears bubbled in her eyes. Oh stars. She sniffed and swiped at her eyes. I’m the Queen of Fools.

Roderick shot to his feet, reaching out to her. “Anya, please, I didn’t mean to! I could never—”

Another wave of panic coursed through her as his fingers circled her wrist.

“Let me go!” she screamed, wrenching free from his grasp. Roderick fell to his knees.

Bernard and Ornella hurtled down the steps at Anya’s shout.

“What’s going on here?” Bernard barked.

Blackbird ran down the hall with Annette, gasping at the scene. “My Lady!”

Protective anger shrouded Anya from every watchful eye. “How dare you,” she seethed, taking a step toward Roderick. “How dare you lay a hand on me! You are a knight, a servant to the Crown. Start acting like it before I keelhaul you!”

Roderick’s head fell. “Yes, Your Highness.”