Page 56 of Spar of Hearts

“What had she heard about me? What could possibly make her tread on broken glass than spend another moment with me? I will never know, and it tortures me, Yomira.”

He released a shuddering breath. “I’ve tried to forget, but every look from Anya takes me right back to that moment.”

My sister thinks nothing but good things of you.

“You don’t have to lie to console me.”

Yomira huffed through her nares, indignant. It isn’t a lie. Millie credits the life she has to you, Roderick. You agreed to let her join the Hounds. And that led her to Ellis. You saw the light in her eyes when she was with him. Instead of snuffing it out and dragging her back to Petorus, you set her free. And after all that, you still risked everything to save her, and she saved me. You didn’t have to do any of that. So why did you?

“Because I care about her.” It was that simple, and at the end of the day, guilt was not a factor in those decisions.

And look how far your care has taken her. Your people. You. She flapped her wings silently, sending up a spray of mist.

He couldn’t say love. Not in a romantic way. And the more he saw this vast world, the more he realized that he’d been as caged as Millicent had.

Now he wanted what she had found.

“I just…want to be what someone is missing. The cold spot in a bed. The empty chair at breakfast. The absent shoes by the door. The one who hears, ‘There you are. We’ve been waiting for you’ and ‘it wouldn’t be the same without you.’ And when my mind pulls me down, I want someone who clings to me, holds me tighter. ‘I can’t lose you,’ they would say, and ‘don’t let go.’”

Tears dripped onto the wyvern’s scales, trailing between the grooves before falling into the sea below.

“I want to let go,” he sobbed. “I’m tired, Yomira. I’m so tired.”

I won’t let you go.

Chapter 21

Anya Delemond

“My Lady, please let me in. I promise I won’t make you come out,” Blackbird said quietly, brushing her hand on the door. After a few minutes, Anya trudged over to the door and nosed the bar lock away.

Blackbird slipped inside and locked it behind her. The room was stagnant and dim. The sun hardly touched the porthole.

“Oh, Anya.” Blackbird hugged her around the neck, ruffling her golden hackles. “What happened? Will you talk to me?”

Anya whimpered and pressed herself to the floor. Blackbird sat beside her, slowly stroking her coat. Every pass of her friend’s hand made Roderick’s shouts and piercing eyes fade a little. They were still there, and her heart still ached, but she wasn’t alone. She couldn’t remember a time she didn’t have Blackbird by her side, and she hoped she never would.

When she opened her eyes again, Blackbird was fast asleep, using her furry flank as a pillow. Anya wasn’t sure how long they stayed that way. She often lost herself in the calm of such simple affections in this form. It was part of why she preferred to process difficult emotions as a wolf. But she couldn’t hide away forever.

She pressed her wet nose into Blackbird’s cheek.

Blackbird giggled. “I’m awake! I’m awake!” She stood, flexing her hands open and shut to relieve the stiffness.

Anya rose to all fours and stretched her front legs, yawning her toothy maw to its limit. The rain-speckled porthole became clear as sleep fell from her eyes.

“Are you ready to shift back?” Blackbird asked. The ship creaked as if in reply.

Anya nodded. Blackbird gave Anya’s ears one final scratch, then stepped back.

Anya closed her eyes, imagining the wolf slipping back into her chest and falling asleep. Her sharp teeth receded. Claws shortened. Fingers pushed through paws. Fur became hair. Scents and sounds dimmed to her normal ability. She finally opened her eyes, greeted by the knotty plank floor of their cabin.

“Here.” Blackbird held a blanket out to her. There were no secrets or shame between them, but it was cold. Anya drew it around her shoulders and fell against her friend. She couldn’t cry as a wolf. But it had to come out sometime.

“I almost told him.” She sniffed into Blackbird’s shoulder. “I almost told Roderick it was me. He was so sweet last night, he took care of me, Bee. He listened to me; he carried me back to our cabin. He cleaned the kitchen that I trashed. He didn’t have to do any of that. But he helped me, so I-I thought—” A sob rattled her chest. “I thought he was different.”

Blackbird rubbed her back in soothing circles. “Maybe he was just having a bad day. Or tired! Or, or maybe he and Octavio woke up early to fish—”

Anya shook her head and stood. “No. It wasn’t any of that. You should have seen the hate in his eyes. He was ready to hurt me. He hates the Delemonds. He hates me. In his eyes, I signed the order sending his people away.”