Chapter 2 #2
“I tire of watching your blades go back and forth!” Anya called, standing and strolling to the center. Her dress blew against her form as the night winds picked up. “Have we archers among us?”
A few Centarians, knights, and deckhands raised their hands and murmured to each other.
“A silver piece to the best shot!” Anya danced a coin across her fingers, then tossed it to Lady Rowan, who scrambled to catch it. Anya smiled and pulled the bow and quiver from her back and held them up. “Bow and arrows provided.”
Roderick raised a brow. This was diplomacy of the highest order. The Centarians buzzed among each other. A silver piece would be an excellent head start in their now-foreign land.
Dame Fletcher stepped forward, but Roderick put his arm in front of her. “Let’s keep this to deckhands and guests only.” The knight nodded with understanding. This was the morale boost his people needed.
“Allow me to demonstrate. A long bow is different than your average hunting bow.” Anya scratched an X into the top of a barrel and set it against the mast atop a crate.
She walked to the very end of the main deck.
Her back was a single pace from the door to the captain’s quarters.
The crowd parted as she drew an arrow from her quiver.
Roderick watched her pull the bowstring taut and send a shot flying dead center in the X. Everyone, including the Centarians, cheered and hooted. Before he could blink, she pulled another arrow back and split the rod of the first shot right down the middle.
“Let us begin!” she called with a smile.
The Princess was encouraging to every participant, right down to a Centarian boy no older than ten who struggled to pull the bow taut.
She helped him with a single claw, giving him the sensation of doing it all on his own.
The arrow flew wildly into the mast, but a shot was a shot.
The boy smiled up at Anya, then over at him.
Throughout the competition, Roderick could see the adoration for himself on the Centarians’ faces, but he didn’t feel it. His people would be sorely disappointed to find out their beloved “savior” had to eat a damned flower just to get through the day.
The smell of roasting goat indicated the start of the feast and deck dance. Anya congratulated the final winner, a young Centarian woman who had an infant swaddled to her chest the entire time. He couldn’t have hoped for a more deserving victor.
As the sailors and Centarians enjoyed the feast, Anya and Lady Rowan collected the stray arrows. He joined in, pulling far-off shots from the baluster, then made his way to the target. He and Anya reached for the same one stuck in the mast, their hands brushing against each other.
“Allow me, Anya.” He tugged the arrow free. “Here.”
She accepted it silently and returned it to her quiver. “If you will excuse me, Lady Rowan and I would like to get some food.”
“May I join you?”
“We actually have royal business to discuss.” Anya turned on her heel.
“Ah, all right then. Perhaps a dance later?”
Seemingly driven by her appetite and not her manners, the Princess was already walking away, arm in arm with Lady Rowan.
Anya had her wolfish eyes locked on prey: a plate of roasted goat and a mug of ale.
He didn’t mind. He found her ill manners rather alluring.
He decided to follow suit and make merry.
A drink would aid in the question he had for her later.
Torchlight replaced the waning sun, casting a gentle glow on the deck.
Whether it was the lighting, the bounding music, or the hearty meal, the Centarians almost looked like a group of healthy, prospering folk gathered for a spring festival.
The air had even grown a little raucous.
He probably should have anticipated that they were not accustomed to a luxury like alcohol.
Lady Rowan was dancing with Octavio, giggling as he twirled her around. Anya was leaning her back against the baluster at the edge of the deck. Her elegant yet intimidating form was lined with shadows from the rigging ropes above.
Roderick downed the rest of his ale.
No time like the present. He tapped down the wooden mug and crossed the deck. Anya’s eyes grew large as he got closer. It seemed she was waiting for him. Perhaps for a dance?
No, no. This should come first.
“Good evening, Anya.” The baluster creaked as he leaned beside her and indulged a breath of the salty sea air.
“Lord Bryson,” she replied coolly. Her eyes shifted to the dancing deckhands, knights, and Centarians. The second her eyes left his, a slight smile curved her lips. That vixen. She was playing hard to get.
He turned to her. “Anya, may I ask you something?”
“You have never asked me for permission before. Or anything, really.”
His spirits lifted. Had she been waiting for him to ask? She seemed impatient. It wouldn’t do to make her wait any longer.
He cleared his throat and rested a hand atop hers on the baluster. Her skin was smooth like silk. He couldn’t resist swiping over it with a thumb. “I would like to court you, if you would have me.”
“Excuse me?”
The chorus of dancing, instruments and merriment dimmed at her heightened tone. Eyes slowly turned to them. Perhaps she didn’t hear him.
“I wish to court you,” he repeated calmly. He searched her eyes for acknowledgment, perhaps excitement, but her wolfish pupils gave nothing away. The crowd began to stir, peeking at them between whispered exchanges.
“That’s what I thought you said,” Anya said under her breath. “Why?”
He should have expected her to ask such a question. Nobility were always wanting to gain something through marriage.
“We are an excellent match. The smooth evacuation is proof of that. Plus, it would be mutually beneficial. Our courtship would help you gain the trust of the Centarians.”
“And you? What do you gain?”
He chuckled. “Is it not obvious?” She was beautiful, tenacious, generous, intelligent, and royalty to boot. He lowered his tone, mindful of the onlookers. “Practical benefits aside, there’s this…tension between us. I would be honored for a chance to explore it.”
“Oh there’s tension all right.” An almost playful growl rolled in her throat. The crowd, unable to overhear much anymore, returned to their revelry. Anya yanked him by the shirt collar, just inches from her enchantingly golden eyes. “Come with me, and I’ll show you just what kind.”
His face grew hot. He didn’t think it would go quite this well. But what kind of gentleman would he be if he questioned her desires? If she wanted some fun, he’d happily oblige.
“Aye aye!” He grinned. She released him and strolled toward the vacant stern, her hands grasped tightly behind her back. Her simple dress flowed effortlessly as she walked. She was clearly a woman of practicality: no frills.
The bow was dark, save for the moonlight above and below, reflecting off the shimmering waters. She stepped to the side and leaned her back against the baluster again, arms lazily placed on either side of her atop the wooden rail. She was practically dangling herself in front of him.
Roderick slipped his arms on either side of her, bracing them on the edge so she was completely ensconced by him.
“So—” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek. She didn’t flinch like Millicent always had. That was a good sign. “What were you saying about tension?”
“I need you to help me relieve it,” she whispered, running a claw up his chest. He shivered at her touch. He was ready to take her down to his cabin and show her an unforgettable night.
“By all means, do with me what you like.” He ran his tongue over his fangs. “I take it your answer to my question is yes?”
“My answer…” She brought her lips to his ear. Every syllable was crystal clear. “Is that you’re an insufferable, self-absorbed rake.”
Then she threw him overboard.