Page 87 of Spar of Hearts

“There’s paw prints down here.”

Anya fell to her knees across from him. Water dripped from her moss as she held it over the prints.

“Ulv…trakk…der…dine…forfedre…trakket…” Anya sounded out the ancient words. The letters were familiar, but the words still seemed like nonsense to Roderick.

“Trakk?” he said, nowhere close to Anya’s pronunciation. “Trawk. Traek. Track.”

“That’s it!” Anya’s golden eyes lit up for a second, then she stiffened.

“What? If you have an idea, do it!”

She brought both hands to her face. The moss glowed between her fingers, illuminating her cheeks.

“Turn around.”

“What? Why?”

“Turn. Around,” she growled.

“Fine.” Roderick sat on the step and turned away. Fabric rustled behind him, then stopped.

“Close your eyes. And cover them.”

“It’s plenty dark, Anya.”

“Just do it.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Roderick rolled his eyes even though Anya couldn’t see it.

“That’s better.”

The shift of clothing continued until he heard Anya’s dress fall to the ground, followed by, presumably, her underskirt. Crimson heated his cheeks. What was she doing? Oh Divine, did she want to—

“What I’m about to do may seem strange, but you have to stay calm.”

“I-I-I—” His heart pounded against his ribs, shattering the words forming in his throat. He had so much to tell her, sins to confess. He wasn’t strong enough to refute her advances again. This woman made him weak in the knee and in the heart.

“Oh stars, you’re panicking, aren’t you?”

“No—no, I just—sh-shouldn’t we talk more first?” A hint of heat emanated from the closeness of Anya’s body as she moved behind him.

“No. I’m not wasting another moment. We can talk during. At least, I think so. I researched your kind during the evacuation.”

She researched this? That made one of them. And talking? He could barely breathe right now, barely think, how would he talk while they—

There. Anya’s voice flowed right into his mind.

Just like Yomira’s.

You can turn around now.

A golden wolf sat in Anya’s place, fur glowing light blue from the moss in its jaws. Anya’s dress laid crumpled beside the wolf. Instinctual panic lit up his nerves, but he swallowed it down. Those eyes. They were Anya’s eyes. He could see the little flecks of brown that speckled her yellow irises.

He couldn’t decode the words on the wall, but he knew what this meant.

Anya was more wolf than he ever imagined.

I must say, I expected more screaming. She huffed through her black nose.