Shield of Sparrows

Sleep was impossible. Not only was it too bright, but Brielle was passed out on my bed—and I kept waiting for another roar.noveldrama

After I’d gotten out of the bath and dressed in fresh clothes, I’d squeezed in beside Brielle to rest. Except each time I shut my eyes, my ears would pick up on the slightest sounds—a fly buzzing, footsteps passing—and I’d crack an eyelid.

Something had roared, right? I hadn’t made that up in the tub.

The noise had only come once, and at this point, I wasn’t sure what was real. Was this delirium? Was I dreaming? Maybe I was still riding that horse, asleep and imagining baths and roars and tents.

“Miss you,” Brielle murmured, snuggling closer. Her arm slid around my waist.

I shied away, checking that she was asleep. Yep. Dead to the realm.

Who did she miss? Her mother? A lover? Brielle had been my lady’s maid for years, but I didn’t really know her. We weren’t friends.

I didn’t have friends.

There’d always been so much activity at the castle, so many requirements between tutors and appearances and, as of late, wedding planning. When I had spare time, I preferred to spend it alone in the solitude of my room or reading a book in the library or hiking to my cliffside.

But it wasn’t only a busy schedule that kept me secluded. It was also by choice.

I was a princess of Quentis. People expected me to know things. To be privy to Father’s plans and aspirations.

When I was younger, I’d had a flock of friends, mostly daughters of wealthy noblemen in the city. The girls would come to the castle for tea, and we’d play with dolls. As we grew, we would attend balls and parties together.

And then they’d gossip about me behind my back.

They faked our friendships so they could glean information about my father to relay back to theirs. Or they faked our friendships because they thought it would improve their station.

I hated fake. I hated lies.

So I’d stopped making “friends.”

Mae, on the other hand, loved to play the social game. She had a litany of friends, and she stole secrets from them all, collecting scandals the way she collected knives. She’d leverage her friends’ mishaps and mistakes to keep them in line. To keep them loyal.

The papermen in Quentis would drool if they knew how many secrets she hoarded.

My sister didn’t care that her friends would just as soon stab her in the back. She didn’t seem to care that most of those girls called her a cunt and a whore.

But I wasn’t Mae.

I cared.

So during parties, I’d stay long enough for Father and Margot to acknowledge my attendance, and then I’d slip away to my rooms alone. After Banner and I got engaged, I’d been expected to spend evenings at his side. My favorite time at parties was when the men would abandon the women to have hushed conversations and drink rye whiskey behind closed doors. The moment Banner’s back was turned, I’d sneak away.

But here, in Turah, I didn’t want to be alone. Maybe Jocelyn and Brielle could be my friends, at least before I sent them home. Station and status didn’t seem to be as important here.

The tent’s flap opened, and Jocelyn ducked inside, carrying a plate. She froze when she saw Brielle asleep.

I put a finger to my mouth and, careful not to shift the cot, slid out from beneath Brielle’s arm and stood. Then I quietly pulled on my boots before following Jocelyn outside.

“Here you go, Highness.” She thrust the plate into my hands. It was full of roasted meat and a chunk of bread with a hard crust. “I’ll get Brielle. I’m sorry she fell asleep in your bed. She’ll be mortified when—”

“Leave her,” I said. “It’s been a hard ride for all of us. And I can’t sleep, not during the day.”

“But—”

“I’m going to wander around the camp for a bit.” I lifted the plate. “And I promise I’ll eat.”

“Highness.” She dipped into a curtsy, then left me alone.

The bright sunlight made me squint, and I gave my eyes a moment to adjust, tilting my head to the heavens and letting the day’s heat warm my face.

The sky was a blue haze, the smoke from all of the fires cloaking the air. The scents of charred wood and sweet meat filled my nose.

I took a bite, groaning as flavor burst on my tongue. My stomach growled, and my hunger returned with a force. It wasn’t ladylike or refined, but I inhaled my food, setting the plate inside the tent once it was empty. Then I set off to wander.

While I’d been in my bath, the Turans had been busy. I walked through a sea of tan canvas tents stretching out in every direction. I picked a path that weaved toward the outer circle of the camp. Every Turan I passed ducked his chin, staring at the dirt. Most scowled.

The women seemed to have disappeared. Maybe they’d been given a chance to rest.

I followed my nose, the acrid sting of smoke getting sharper as I neared the camp’s edge. Past the last row of tents was a wide swath of grass that extended to the fire and river beyond.

Sparks floated into the air, vanishing into flecks of ash. The crackle sounded in all directions, and though the smell of smoke was strong, I didn’t mind the noise. It was almost a replacement for ocean waves.

“Highness.” Tillia spoke from behind me, her hands clasped together.

“Odessa,” I corrected. If Zavier wasn’t called Highness in his own country, then I certainly didn’t need the title.

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

“No, I was just wandering.”

She didn’t move, not until I took a step closer to the fire. Then she stepped, too.

Right. How dare I think I could walk around alone? “Zavier assigned you to shadow me, didn’t he? I promise I’m no flight risk. I was only restless.”

She nodded. “Of course.”

But did she leave me alone? No.

As I walked through the grass, following the circle of fires, she stayed five paces behind me the entire way. I was used to guards constantly at my heels. I’d had them my entire life. Tillia’s company shouldn’t have bothered me.

But those days on the Cutter had given me the illusion of freedom. There hadn’t been a guard on the ship. There hadn’t been a need. And stupid me, I’d thought maybe there wouldn’t be a need in Turah.

That I could walk without a shadow. That I could have some space.

“Zavier said we’d be staying here for a few days,” I said, turning to face her. “Will you be with me the whole time?”

“Yes. My tent is beside yours.”

So she was my faithful babysitter. “Where will we go from here?”

“We’ll travel to Ellder.”

Ellder. The name was familiar from Father’s hurried lesson on Turah the night of my wedding. It was a fortress, one of the largest, if I recalled the details correctly. But I had no idea how far it was from this camp. It could be a day’s ride or seven and I wouldn’t have a clue. “I’m afraid I’m a little disoriented. How far away is Ellder?”

“It’s far. This is not an easy journey. There are some established encampments along the way. But in between, we’ll set up temporary stations like this.”

“Ah. And is Ellder where we’ll pick up supplies before continuing on to Allesaria?”

The moment it was out of my mouth, I regretted the question. Because Tillia’s brown eyes turned instantly wary and her expression hardened. “Perhaps.”

That meant no.

Damn. I guess I couldn’t count on Tillia to share details of the capital.

“Did I hear a roar earlier?” I asked, hoping a change in subject would soften her gaze.

She opened her mouth, but before she could answer, her attention shifted over my head.

There was no need to turn to see who stood at my back. I felt his presence. It was as noticeable as the waves of heat rolling off the fires.

Tillia ducked her chin, then disappeared into the cluster of tents.

Trading one babysitter for another.

“Am I not allowed to be alone?” I asked as I turned to face the Guardian.

“Your tent is safe.” There was a taunt in that statement. No one, not even my husband, would venture inside.

“Have you no one else to pester?”

“Not today.”

My mouth flattened into a thin line as I brushed past him. Whether he liked it or not, I was going to keep wandering.

I didn’t stick to the ring of fires but ducked in and out of the tents. I passed men busy chopping wood or sharpening knives. With every turn I made, the Guardian followed, and when I risked chaste glances over my shoulder, his eyes were always waiting, always emerald green.

By the time I made it back to the other side of the camp, the exhaustion from earlier had returned. So had the aches the bath had momentarily soothed.

I only hoped I could find my tent. My pride had taken enough lashings from the Guardian today. I wasn’t sure it would survive another if I had to ask him to return me to my bed.

The Guardian came to my side, his arms crossed, legs planted wide as I watched the flames from the closest fire tickling the air.

“About that roar I heard earlier,” I said.

“What about it?”

Confirmation enough. At least I wasn’t delirious. “What was it?”

“A monster.”

I rolled my eyes. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.” I looked up at his profile, waiting.

His silence gave me a moment to scrutinize his face, searching for flaws. There were none. In a way, he looked a bit like Zavier. The Guardian was larger, though. His features more pronounced. Bolder. But they had a few similarities. The straight nose. The slight hollows beneath cheekbones. The sharp jaw. How had I not noticed before?

Were they related? Cousins, maybe? Brothers?

“A grizzur,” he said. “This is their territory.”

Hence the fires. I shuddered.

Grizzurs were monsters I’d only read about in books. They were myths. Legends. In my world, they didn’t exist beyond the page.

Except I wasn’t in my world anymore, was I?

“Did you kill it?” I asked.

The look he gave me was the epitome of What the fuck do you think?

There were flecks and dots on his tunic. I hadn’t noticed them on the walk because he’d been behind me. But the speckles had to be blood.

There was even a smear on his wrist. A drop on the column of his throat.

“Was anyone hurt?”

He scoffed.

Of course, the great and powerful Guardian would never let harm befall his people. Silly me.

“Can I see it?” I asked. “The grizzur?”

“Why?”

I shrugged. “I’ve only ever read about them in books.”

“So curious, my queen.”

Yes, I was. “I want to know what I’m up against.”

With the monsters.

With him.

I wanted to see this beast he’d killed.

Without a word, he walked past me, his elbow grazing my own.

I followed as he marched along the camp, his strides so long that I had to run to keep up. My muscles screamed, but I was too curious—and too proud—to ask him to slow down.

By the time we reached the other side of the camp, I was out of breath. Sweat coated my brow. My heart pounded.

It came to a dead stop when I saw the grizzur.

Its bearlike frame lay prone on its belly. Its massive body was covered in coarse cinnamon fur. Along the spine, jutting through that thick, wiry hair, were spikes as long as my arm. They were as white as snow and as pointed as the Guardian’s sword. They angled in all directions, some curving to the sides, others aiming straight.

Was that how they survived the crux migrations? There’d be no picking up a grizzur from above, not with those spikes.

Its feet, tipped in claws, were as wide as my shoulders. On all fours, it had to stand at least six feet tall. If it rose up on its hind legs, ten.

The grizzur’s head was turned on its ear, enough to reveal the gash in its throat.

No, not a gash. A cut so deep that it left the monster’s head barely connected to its body. It hung only by a sliver of that heavy hide.

I choked. “You cut its head off?”

The Guardian shrugged. “Almost.”

“How?” Before he could answer, I held up a hand. “Actually. Never mind.”

My imagination could fill in the gaps.

Predator to predator, the grizzur had met its match.

The monster’s snout was longer than any bear’s, double the size. Its black nose was shiny and wet. Its mouth was open, revealing teeth that didn’t form neat rows. Instead, like the spikes on its back, they jutted at odd angles.

Could the grizzurs even close their mouths? Or did they just shred their victims and swallow jagged chunks?

There was a drag mark in the dirt that stretched from the body beyond the fires. Why would they bring it inside the camp? So its blood wouldn’t attract others?

Its black, glassy eyes were open and lifeless. As we walked closer to the head, they seemed to track my steps, even though it was dead.

A rivulet of dark-red blood trickled from its nostril, puddling beneath its open maw.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The sound made my insides twist.

Zavier had warned me on the Cutter that Turah wasn’t gentle or kind. That his kingdom would not spare me mercy. This land, these monsters, would do their best to break me into pieces, wouldn’t they?

To soak this earth with my blood.

“I want my sword.”

The Guardian sighed like he’d heard that request a hundred times over a hundred years. Not twice in the past few days.

“You agreed.”

“That I did.” He rubbed a hand over his bearded jaw. “You look dead on your feet, Sparrow. Rest. Tomorrow, we’ll train. Be ready at dawn.”

What was it with the Turans and dawn? Something always seemed to be happening at dawn. “Fine.”

“Don’t go past the fires.” He pointed a long finger at my nose.

Go into the wild where these monsters lived? “Not a chance.”

“Can you find your way back to your tent?”

Probably. Though it might take me an hour. “Yes.”

Then he was gone, leaving me alone with the grizzur.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

I stared at the monster for another long moment, marveling at its size. It shouldn’t have been beautiful, not a beast so terrifying. Yet I couldn’t seem to tear my gaze away.

Not until I heard the sound of horses, of hooves beating against the earth, carrying over the pop of the fires.

Zavier and three of his warriors raced away from the camp. A minute later, another rider broke past the fires, racing to catch up.

The Guardian. His coal stallion flew across the plain, its rider as graceful in the saddle as the animal itself.

Where were they going?

A decent spy would find a horse and follow. But me? Not a decent spy. So I slunk away from the grizzur, making a slow retreat to my tent. I only got lost twice.

Brielle was gone by the time I returned, presumably to her own bed, and I curled up on mine.

When the next roar came, when it seemed to shake heaven and earth, I pulled the pillow over my head.

Pretending to sleep until dawn.