Page 91 of Spar of Hearts

But such a dream meant leaving Valeria in Cyrus’s hands. That couldn’t happen.

Which meant this couldn’t happen.

The thought of being forced back into her gilded prison by duty alone sent her into a spiral. Shallow breaths sliced through her. She tried to slow them, but her body wouldn’t obey. Keeping them quiet didn’t last long when she heaved a big breath to stave off the lightheadedness swirling on her periphery.

“Woah, hey, hey, hey—” Roderick stepped in front of her and tipped her chin up. “Look at me. Look at me. You don’t have to answer. I didn’t mean it to be so deep. You look like you’re about to burst.”

“I—”

“Don’t speak.” He squeezed her hand. “Breathe through your nose. Imagine a fireplace bellows.”

She clamped her mouth shut and followed Roderick’s instruction. The burning in her throat eased. She pictured her lungs filling with air, then pushing it out slowly. It was working. Slowly, but working.

“Good. Good.” Roderick smiled, giving her a teasing scratch behind the ears.

But damn it, it felt incredible.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, until Roderick brought a hand up like a puppet, speaking in a high-pitched voice. “Gee, Roderick, how did you become an earl so quickly?”

He answered himself. “Wow, that is a great question, Anya. I would love to tell you.”

A smile tugged at Anya’s lips.

“Oh, sir knight, please do!” Roderick made puppet Anya exclaim. “Regale me with your story!”

Roderick straightened his collar and held his head high. “It was about three years ago now. The trade routes between Eldenkeep and the Region of Clarion needed to be repaired and rerouted due to deep wagon ruts and sinkholes, so Duke Ferrington increased the monthly tax rate on the trader’s guild.”

A low branch crossed their path. Roderick lifted it up for her to pass beneath, causing a cluster of maple blossoms to fall around them. “The guild was livid. They wanted the Duke to spread the cost across the yearly regional taxes instead. But the Duke refused. Since the traders were the ones chewing up the roads with their wagons and horses, and the primary group to benefit from repaired roads, he deemed it inequitable to force the everyday folk of Eldenkeep to shoulder the cost.”

Anya had always found Duke Ferrington to be a wise, no-nonsense leader of his region. He was among the few nobles that didn’t spout selfish nonsense at the Council sessions.

“One thing led to another, and the Duke refused to budge. All seemed fine for a couple months. But when the third payment came due, and the Eldenkeep Trader’s Guild didn’t pay up, the Duke insisted on seeing them himself to discuss it. He was never one to go straight for punishment, see, and many of the traders had families. So I accompanied him, along with Octavio, who was a squire in my unit then. The Duke didn’t want to make a show of things, see, and risk upsetting the residents of the city.”

Anya nodded. She knew where the story was going. She’d read this part in the reports from Eldenkeep around that time. But she was eager to hear it from Roderick’s perspective.

“We came to the front door of the guild and knocked. Two eyes appeared in the sliding peephole, telling us to go around the back before he slammed it shut. I didn’t like it, but the Duke agreed, not wanting to make a scene. On our way through the alley, guild members surrounded us. We fought them off, but one burst through a window and went straight for the Duke. Before I knew it, my body went in front of the Duke, and my sword went through the man—but not before he got a jab in.” Roderick tapped just to the left of his heart.

Anya gasped. “So that scar—”

“Ah, so you were looking back there,” Roderick said with a smirk, bringing heat to her ears. “But yes, that is how I got my biggest scar. The rest are from monsters, sparring, or horses.”

Horses. A shiver rattled her spine. If she hadn’t been trampled all those years ago, would her parents had ever caged her? Or had it only been a matter of time? Her mind began to slip toward the fear that always accompanied the memory—but the memory vanished when Roderick’s deep voice filled her ears again as he walked ahead of her. The path became less traveled, with more brush and dead leaves piled up, a stark contrast to the budding birch branches around them and the bunches of tulips bursting from the ground.

“It was the closest to death I’ve come, ironically, not at the hands of the Church. When I woke up, the Duke threw a feast with all the nobility in Eldenkeep. You can imagine that was the last place I would want to be—until he rewarded me with a fief and a title. One moment I was prey, the next I was reveling among the predators. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, if you’ll mind my idiom.”

Anya chuckled. “I’ll let it slide.”

Chapter 31

Anya Delemond

Hours of travel passed in no time as Roderick spouted tale after tale of his time with the Petorus knights—even revealing his connection to Sir Ronaldo through the former Commander, doing his best impression of one of the Commander’s infamous quotes.

“Never give a sword to a man who can’t dance,” Roderick bellowed, forcing his husky voice down an octave as he held a finger up. “He’ll stab you in the gut and step on your toes.”

Anya laughed until her sides split. “Stars, that is precisely how Sir Ronaldo sounded. He was such an old coot. I can’t believe your Commander said it too.”

“And he said it just like that, on my honor! I’m glad he did justice to the original.”