Page 50 of Spar of Hearts

Anya forced herself to walk calmly past every piercing gaze to her cabin, slamming the door behind her so hard the bar lock fell into place.

Blackbird knocked a few moments later. “My Lady?”

With a shiver, Anya shifted into her ancestral form, allowing her anxieties to unearth themselves as well. Her ragged breaths became pants. Fear fluffed up her hackles as she tore her way out of the pile of fabric. She curled up under the bunk, hoping the comforting shadows would rid her senses of Roderick’s piercing words and haunting, hateful eyes.

“My Lady, please come out.”

She whimpered in reply.

Never.

Never again.

She may come out, but her heart was staying put.

Chapter 20

Roderick Bryson

The eyes multiplied around Roderick, searing guilt into his core. Bernard and Ornella stood dumbfounded by the steps. Annette was nearly in tears opposite them. Blackbird kept knocking on Anya’s door, with no answer. Octavio was talking to him, waving a hand in front of his face, but the words were inaudible beneath the cacophony of voices in his mind. He was surrounded inside and out.

No matter what you do, you can never escape how the world sees you. And now they’ve all witnessed the real you. All your laurels can’t save you from who you truly are.

There’s no going back.

There’s no undoing this.

You just threatened the Princess.

Your title is as good as gone.

Even if Anya was the woman you long for, a princess would never want to be with a piss-poor horse trainer.

No one will.

His heart sank like a stone at the last biting truth. Every scrape, every bruise, every broken bone and puddle of blood had won him nothing; gained him no one.

Your days of value are done.

Soon, his title would be stripped.

His family would be ashamed and destitute. Not that they needed him anymore. He’d served his purpose.

He had no friends to lean on. Octavio and Dame Fletcher were only by his side because of their positions. Millicent had Ellis. Ornella, Bernard, and Annette were paid crew.

Not friends.

“Roderick!” Octavio kept waving a hand in front of his face. His voice was faint. “Talk to me!”

What’s next? the voice hissed. Shouting at Annette? Snapping Octavio’s neck?

“No,” he groaned, digging his fingers into his hair. “No, no, I wouldn’t do that!”

Really?

Anya’s fearful eyes and trembling hands forced their way into his mind’s eye.

You did that.