Page 5 of Spar of Hearts

“Let us begin!” she called with a smile.

The Princess was encouraging to every participant, right down to a Centarian boy no older than ten who struggled to pull the bow taut. She helped him with a single claw, giving him the sensation of doing it all on his own. The arrow flew wildly into the mast, but a shot was a shot. The boy smiled up at Anya, then over at him.

Throughout the competition, Roderick could see the adoration for himself on the Centarians’ faces, but he didn’t feel it. His people would be sorely disappointed to find out their beloved “savior” had to eat a damned flower just to get through the day.

The smell of roasting goat indicated the start of the feast and deck dance. Anya congratulated the final winner, a young Centarian woman who had an infant swaddled to her chest the entire time. He couldn’t have hoped for a more deserving victor.

As the sailors and Centarians enjoyed the feast, Anya and Lady Rowan collected the stray arrows. He joined in, pulling far-off shots from the baluster, then made his way to the target. He and Anya reached for the same one stuck in the mast, their hands brushing against each other.

“Allow me, Anya.” He tugged the arrow free. “Here.”

She accepted it silently and returned it to her quiver. “If you will excuse me, Lady Rowan and I would like to get some food.”

“May I join you?”

“We actually have royal business to discuss.” Anya turned on her heel.

“Ah, all right then. Perhaps a dance later?”

Seemingly driven by her appetite and not her manners, the Princess was already walking away, arm in arm with Lady Rowan. Anya had her wolfish eyes locked on prey: a plate of roasted goat and a mug of ale. He didn’t mind. He found her ill manners rather alluring. He decided to follow suit and make merry. A drink would aid in the question he had for her later.

Torchlight replaced the waning sun, casting a gentle glow on the deck. Whether it was the lighting, the bounding music, or the hearty meal, the Centarians almost looked like a group of healthy, prospering folk gathered for a spring festival. The air had even grown a little raucous. He probably should have anticipated that they were not accustomed to a luxury like alcohol.

Lady Rowan was dancing with Octavio, giggling as he twirled her around. Anya was leaning her back against the baluster at the edge of the deck. Her elegant yet intimidating form was lined with shadows from the rigging ropes above.

Roderick downed the rest of his ale.

No time like the present. He tapped down the wooden mug and crossed the deck. Anya’s eyes grew large as he got closer. It seemed she was waiting for him. Perhaps for a dance?

No, no. This should come first.

“Good evening, Anya.” The baluster creaked as he leaned beside her and indulged a breath of the salty sea air.

“Lord Bryson,” she replied coolly. Her eyes shifted to the dancing deckhands, knights, and Centarians. The second her eyes left his, a slight smile curved her lips. That vixen. She was playing hard to get.

He turned to her. “Anya, may I ask you something?”

“You have never asked me for permission before. Or anything, really.”

His spirits lifted. Had she been waiting for him to ask? She seemed impatient. It wouldn’t do to make her wait any longer.

He cleared his throat and rested a hand atop hers on the baluster. Her skin was smooth like silk. He couldn’t resist swiping over it with a thumb. “I would like to court you, if you would have me.”

“Excuse me?”

The chorus of dancing, instruments and merriment dimmed at her heightened tone. Eyes slowly turned to them. Perhaps she didn’t hear him.

“I wish to court you,” he repeated calmly. He searched her eyes for acknowledgment, perhaps excitement, but her wolfish pupils gave nothing away. The crowd began to stir, peeking at them between whispered exchanges.

“That’s what I thought you said,” Anya said under her breath. “Why?”

He should have expected her to ask such a question. Nobility were always wanting to gain something through marriage.

“We are an excellent match. The smooth evacuation is proof of that. Plus, it would be mutually beneficial. Our courtship would help you gain the trust of the Centarians.”

“And you? What do you gain?”

He chuckled. “Is it not obvious?” She was beautiful, tenacious, generous, intelligent, and royalty to boot. He lowered his tone, mindful of the onlookers. “Practical benefits aside, there’s this…tension between us. I would be honored for a chance to explore it.”