Chapter 21
Anya Delemond
“My Lady, please let me in. I promise I won’t make you come out,” Blackbird said quietly, brushing her hand on the door. After a few minutes, Anya trudged over to the door and nosed the bar lock away.
Blackbird slipped inside and locked it behind her. The room was stagnant and dim. The sun hardly touched the porthole.
“Oh, Anya.” Blackbird hugged her around the neck, ruffling her golden hackles. “What happened? Will you talk to me?”
Anya whimpered and pressed herself to the floor.
Blackbird sat beside her, slowly stroking her coat.
Every pass of her friend’s hand made Roderick’s shouts and piercing eyes fade a little.
They were still there, and her heart still ached, but she wasn’t alone.
She couldn’t remember a time she didn’t have Blackbird by her side, and she hoped she never would.
When she opened her eyes again, Blackbird was fast asleep, using her furry flank as a pillow.
Anya wasn’t sure how long they stayed that way.
She often lost herself in the calm of such simple affections in this form.
It was part of why she preferred to process difficult emotions as a wolf. But she couldn’t hide away forever.
She pressed her wet nose into Blackbird’s cheek.
Blackbird giggled. “I’m awake! I’m awake!” She stood, flexing her hands open and shut to relieve the stiffness.
Anya rose to all fours and stretched her front legs, yawning her toothy maw to its limit. The rain-speckled porthole became clear as sleep fell from her eyes.
“Are you ready to shift back?” Blackbird asked. The ship creaked as if in reply.
Anya nodded. Blackbird gave Anya’s ears one final scratch, then stepped back.
Anya closed her eyes, imagining the wolf slipping back into her chest and falling asleep.
Her sharp teeth receded. Claws shortened.
Fingers pushed through paws. Fur became hair.
Scents and sounds dimmed to her normal ability.
She finally opened her eyes, greeted by the knotty plank floor of their cabin.
“Here.” Blackbird held a blanket out to her. There were no secrets or shame between them, but it was cold. Anya drew it around her shoulders and fell against her friend. She couldn’t cry as a wolf. But it had to come out sometime.
“I almost told him.” She sniffed into Blackbird’s shoulder.
“I almost told Roderick it was me. He was so sweet last night, he took care of me, Bee. He listened to me; he carried me back to our cabin. He cleaned the kitchen that I trashed. He didn’t have to do any of that.
But he helped me, so I-I thought—” A sob rattled her chest. “I thought he was different.”
Blackbird rubbed her back in soothing circles. “Maybe he was just having a bad day. Or tired! Or, or maybe he and Octavio woke up early to fish—”
Anya shook her head and stood. “No. It wasn’t any of that. You should have seen the hate in his eyes. He was ready to hurt me. He hates the Delemonds. He hates me. In his eyes, I signed the order sending his people away.”
“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.
She’d never made her cry before.
“You want me to be the perfect Princess-servant. The friend who never says no. The lady-in-waiting who lives and breathes for you alone. Well I’m sorry for disappointing you, My Lady, but people aren’t always what you expect.
The least you could do is dig beneath the surface once in a while.
Do you even know what I’ve been doing with Sir Oshfeldt? Do you even care?”
“Tell me!” Anya cried.
The braids framing Blackbird’s face whipped as she whirled around. “Why? Why should I? What difference will it make?!” Her tattooed throat bobbed with every word leaving her worrying lip. “It’s nothing that benefits you. So forget it.”
Fear surged up Anya’s spine as Blackbird opened the door, as though she would disappear through it and never come back. Never. Never.
“I’m sorry,” Anya pleaded.
“If you’re sorry, then prove it.”
Anya stared at page three hundred and twenty-six of Aquillan Myths and Legends like her life depended on it.
Cramming words into her brain was the only thing that kept her from darting after Blackbird.
Her friend needed space. Disrespecting that desire would only further Blackbird’s point.
She’d been stuck on this chapter for at least an hour, maybe two.
Reading comprehension came second to Blackbird’s stinging refute playing over and over in her head.
On the plus side, her mind was so crowded with anxiety over their fight that she could hardly picture Roderick’s harrowing glare.
The seabirds were quiet. The only sound was waves slapping against the creaking ship. It had to be close to dinner time.
Her stomach growled as if to answer. It seemed cruel for her body to be so demanding when she wanted nothing more than to hide under the covers for days. But life had to go on, and pouting would do her no good.
She slapped the book shut.
Prove it. I can prove it.
Anya navigated the hall to the galley, followed only by the shadow where Blackbird usually strode beside her with a smile.
Was that fair? She was always trying to buck the shadow cast by the throne. Why wouldn’t Blackbird do the same?
“Good evening, Your Highness!” Annette chirped. “Cod and potatoes tonight. Bernard caught them this afternoon. Er, the cod, not the potatoes.”
Anya chuckled weakly and accepted the plate with a thank you.
As she surveyed the tables, Blackbird lifted her head from a heavy tome, then smiled shyly and waved her over. It was an olive branch she didn’t deserve. The chair squeaked against the floor as Anya took a seat.
It was awkward. She’d never had to think this hard about conversing with Blackbird. It always came so naturally. If she asked about Sir Oshfeldt now, it would seem disingenuous. If she didn’t, she’d seem callous. So she went for the middle ground.
“What are you reading?” Anya asked, prodding her plate.
“Idris Idyllia’s Guide to Charms,” Blackbird answered, with noticeably less enthusiasm than usual. “I’ve been studying magic with Octavio.”
There was no textbook called Digging Beneath the Surface, but this was as good a time as any to try it.
“Can you do any?” Anya asked, taking a bite of roasted potato. It seemed flavorless until Blackbird smiled and spoke.
“Well, I can’t do any on my own yet. Sir Oshfeldt shares his mana with me so I can see how the charm feels in my body. It’s supposed to help me do it on my own eventually.”
“You will. I know you will.” Anya smiled at her friend, then scratched her throat.
“If there’s a mage you wish to study with, I will support you wholeheartedly.
I was being selfish before. Or, most of our lives, I suppose.
I’m just so used to having you with me, Bee.
I can’t imagine life without you. But I never want to imagine a life where you feel stuck with me.
I want you to be my friend, first and foremost. So… ”
Anya swallowed back tears. “Whenever you want to go, and wherever that may be, I’ll be the first to cheer you on. And cry. Probably the latter.”
Blackbird nearly turned the table over as she launched across to hug Anya.
“It means the world to hear you say that,” Blackbird said. She smiled so broadly, Anya could feel the heights of her friend’s cheekbones. “I’m afraid you’re still stuck with me for now, as your friend and your lady-in-waiting.”
“I’ll keep you as long as I can.” Anya chuckled the welling tears away as Blackbird settled back into her seat. Anya leaned forward. Curiosity was getting the best of her. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “As my friend, tell me. What does mana sharing feel like? Is it…romantic?”
Anya felt like she was seventeen, giggling in the arcade of the palace with Blackbird as the eligible noble folk were announced. She wanted all the details.
“He does kiss me,” she said, hiding her blushing cheeks in her hands.
“It’s just to start the mana circuit though,” she added, a little disappointment flashing across her face before she shook her head.
“But that’s not the point. His mana, that raw, magic energy…
Oh, Anya, it’s incredible. I can’t believe I’ve been missing out on that my whole life.
Having that much mana coursing through me… I wish I could feel that all the time.”
All right, that sounded way more sensual than it ought to be.
But maybe it was an Elvani thing. Anya felt a little twinge of envy.
Not over Blackbird, but that kind of intimate moment with someone who cared for her in a romantic way.
And here Blackbird was, being fawned over by a knight, completely and utterly unaware.
Stop, Anya, she scolded herself. This is about Blackbird, not me.
Although, that didn’t protect her friend from some good-natured teasing. Anya smirked and lifted her brows. “Ahh, oh yes, I see. You’ve found yourself a knight in shining armor.”
“I—” Blackbird huffed, lower lip stuck out in protest. “You—you know what? Forget digging! Don’t dig! Ever again!” She tried to look intimidating for a moment but failed miserably. Blackbird’s lips twitched as a smile tried to break free. “Hahahaha! Oh Spirits, I regret ever saying that!”
The weight lifted from Anya’s shoulders, if only for a moment. She desperately needed this laugh. She giggled and continued wriggling her brows in a comically suggestive manner.
Blackbird held her stomach. “Stop it! Hehehehe, you’re too good at that!”
“Too good at what?” Anya’s brows kept dancing. She had incredible control of her facial muscles. It was one of the few benefits of being able to snarl.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bernard skid into the doorway.
“Your Highness, there’s more icebergs. I can get Lord Bryson, but—”
“No.” Anya shoved her chair back and stood. “Thank you for getting me. Have the crew direct all questions Lord Bryson would handle to me. I don’t want him disturbed.”
Where was he? Come to think of it, Anya hadn’t heard the stern creak from Yomira’s restless shifting, and Roderick’s usual place in the galley looked untouched.
Bernard nodded and led her up top. The moment she handled icebergs, the rod of the helm was rattling.
Then the fore topgallant sail came loose.
A leak in the storage room. Intense prevailing easterlies.
With everything settled, she and Blackbird did their sky charting that night, then ate breakfast-dinner.
But just as Anya’s head hit the pillow, everything fell apart again.