Page 57 of Spar of Hearts

“You were a child!”

Anya strode to the closet and selected a dusty-blue dress, steeling herself from more tears. “It doesn’t matter. He’s made his feelings perfectly clear. I should have known better anyhow. He’s a fine thespian. I suppose he would have to be, being Centarian. His whole life was a masquerade.”

“I don’t think he hates you,” Blackbird said quietly. She shoved her circular glasses up the bridge of her nose and went to assist with Anya’s corset. Her fingers worked the ties with precision. “I’ve seen how he looks at you. You obviously remind him of…well, you. You said he was heartbroken when you left that night. It must be driving him insane.”

“That’s part of the problem. He’s pining for a maiden who doesn’t share the name of his people’s enemy. Someone who can revel in the moonlight, a woman who can follow him wherever he goes.” She sighed. “That isn’t me.”

“Why not?”

“What?”

“Why can’t that be you?” Blackbird asked, tightening the final string.

Anya bristled. Maybe they’d been at sea too long. Perhaps the endless blue was messing with Blackbird’s head.

“You’re right,” Anya said. Her voice became muffled as she pulled the dress over her head and shoved her arms through the sleeves. “Let me just hand the Crown right over to Cyrus and be on my merry way with the King of the Assholes himself!”

“Not with him, necessarily,” Blackbird added, beckoning her to sit on the bed. She dug a wide-tooth comb from the night stand and started gently running it through Anya’s hair. Anya breathed deeply, relaxing into their ritual.

Blackbird chuckled. “Now, Cyrus may be a royal jerk, but he meets the mark of a ruler. He may not care for you, but he cares about Valeria. I heard him talking with the servants, once, asking them what they needed, if they were content with their wage and quarters. I don’t think he would do that if he only cared about power.”

“Maybe so. But I’m not willing to gamble my kingdom on some fanciful endeavor of the heart. And when it goes sideways—because it will—what will I have to come back to?”

“You may not have the throne, Anya, but you would still have your family. Friends. Me.” Blackbird bit her lip. “And forgive me if I’m overstepping, My Lady, but ruling won’t grant you the freedom you crave.”

“You don’t know that.”

Blackbird stopped brushing. “Don’t I? When did you last see Their Majesties leave Eteross?”

“That’s—” Anya shook her head. “They aren’t me. I won’t be content to sit behind a desk.”

Blackbird sighed. “And who will manage in your stead when you are off Spirits-knows-where?”

She stiffened. “Marg? You?”

She thought that was obvious. They were her two most trusted confidants. She would throw political bones to Cyrus from time to time to quell him and take care of the rest herself. When she wanted to go somewhere, she would delegate. After all, half of diplomacy was knowing who to trust.

Blackbird wrung the handle of the brush in her hands. “Me? Anya—I-I don’t want to do that.”

Anxiety swirled in Anya’s gut. She never dreamed of a time where Blackbird wouldn’t be by her side—no matter where she went or what she did. Blackbird often thought very little of herself. Perhaps that was all this was. Roderick’s insult must have really gotten to her. She could fix this. A little reassurance was all her friend needed.

“You are more than capable. There is no one I trust more than you. I need you, Blackbird. You’re my right hand, and my best friend. We can help Valeria prosper. I won’t take no for an answer,” Anya said firmly.

“Are you serious?” Blackbird asked, brows furrowed.

Anya stepped to her, reaching for her hand. “Of course I am, I need you.”

Blackbird tugged her hand away. Her normally bright, violet eyes darkened under furrowed brows. Her voice came just shy of a shout. “You can’t order me to do that. Just because you’re tied to Eteross doesn’t mean I have to be. What if I fall in love? What if I want to be more than a lady of court? Do you really expect me to give it up for you?”

“I’m not asking you to give anything up! We would figure it out! You could live at the palace, you, your spouse, and I would pay for whatever you need—”

Blackbird shot to her feet and turned away, fists clenched. “That isn’t the point! You don’t care, do you?”

“No, Bee, no, I care, I care about you so much…” The childhood nickname slipped out as she grabbed Blackbird’s shoulder.

Blackbird sniffled.

Anya stepped back, eyes wide.