Page 64 of Spar of Hearts

Blackbird dipped her quill with a tink and jotted down the correct measurement.

Anya returned the sextant to the wooden crate. It was a fruitless attempt to keep tidy. Most of the contents were spread across the bow.

“I’ve come to fulfill my word.” Roderick turned to Blackbird. “Lady Rowan.” He cleared his throat. Blackbird eyed him nervously from her seat on an upturned washbasin. “I wanted to apologize for the comment I made about your salve. It was presumptuous and insensitive. Should you ever run out of it during our voyage, please see Ornella. I will personally pay to replenish her stores if you need a remedy, no questions asked.”

Anya lifted a brow. That apology was surprisingly authentic, not the choked-out regret she thought it would be.

Blackbird had a tender heart, but she was always willing to give second chances. Anya had experienced that forgiveness firsthand.

“I…I accept your apology, My Lord. Thank you.” Blackbird smiled up at Roderick, all sins forgiven. “I know what we were doing that day must have looked odd, so I want to explain. Sometimes my hands get stiff and achy. Heat and pressure help, but I cannot apply the pressure myself when that happens.” She stared down at her hands. “I am very blessed that Her Highness helps me, rubbing the ginger and turmeric salve into my hands, warm compresses, giving me leave, whatever I need.”

Anya waited for a snide remark from the lord that never came.

“I really made an ass of myself that day, didn’t I?” Roderick chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “Thank you for sharing that with me. I think I understand that feeling now. Your body or mind being out of your control.”

“Yes! Yes, that is exactly it! There are days I want to chop them off!”

“You’d be one hell of a scribe without them.” Anya chuckled.

Blackbird tossed her head back and laughed. A light clink drew all eyes to where an ink pot fell on its side. Thick black liquid pooled onto the lid of the crate, thankfully, and not their notes.

“Oops!” Blackbird rushed to set it right side up, then stared at her fingers, now streaked with ink. “I’ll be right back, My Lady. I need to scrub this off before it dries.”

With her raven hair and dark purple dress, Blackbird almost seemed to disappear into the shadow of the main mast—leaving Anya alone with Roderick. She turned her attention back to the astrolabe, desperately trying to ignore his gaze.

“I heard you working,” he said softly, stepping to her.

“Ah, you called it work. How flattering.” She adjusted the angle of the alidade, peering along the tarnished lever at the brightest star within Vulpecula.

“Anya.” Roderick stepped in front of her, placing a gentle hand on her wrist to lower the instrument. Despite her anger, and the sudden, unbidden pang of fear she loathed, her cheeks still burned at his touch. “What you are doing…it’s incredible. I mean that wholeheartedly. I regret what I said. I regret it all. The way I treated you during the evacuation and the Council session…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Especially the other day.”

“I suppose I’ll hold off on the keelhauling. For now.”

Roderick exhaled. His shoulders relaxed. “That’s all I can ask for.” He chuckled weakly. “Though you’ll recall I’m a fair swimmer.”

Silence passed between them.

He wasn’t leaving. Why wasn’t he leaving? He’d said his piece. She agreed not to drag him behind the boat. What more did he want? A compliment?

She tried to hone in on another star, tapping the alidade up a smidge. It was no use. All she could focus on was the strange thump in her chest. It intensified as Roderick leaned against the baluster beside her and stared up at the sky. After a minute, he turned to her. “So…how do you know all the stars by heart?”

Anya sighed and gave up on the alidade. “They’re a constant in my life. I always know what to expect.”

“So when I changed our course—”

“You may as well have ripped my sanity in two.”

“Duly noted.” He smiled, fangs reflecting in the moonlight. He surveyed the sky above for a minute. Anya seized the chance to take a big breath of cool night air.

“What is that one called?” He pointed to the northwest.

“Is this a test?” She eyed him hesitantly.

“A genuine question. I can see it from my bedchamber back home.”

“Delphinus. The dolphin. Ironic, isn’t it?” Anya sighed and leaned against the baluster beside him. The lack of sleep was beginning to rear its head.

“What is?”