Shield of Sparrows

When I was thirteen, a scullery maid poisoned me with fenek tusk powder.

She slipped it into my morning tea, and after she was caught, she admitted to being paid by a nobleman who’d fallen behind on his debt payments to Father.

The lord had been a habitual gambler who’d hoped a death in the Quentin royal family would buy him more time to win a fortune at the dice tables.

Instead, he and the maid were hanged in the Roslo public square.

As their bodies were left to rot for a week, baking under the sun and pecked at by birds, I spent a week on death’s doorstep.

To my knowledge, the doctors still didn’t know how I’d survived the poison. The powder was twice as toxic as the venom from any snake, but my body had fought the fever, and somehow, I’d lived.

It was the worst I’d ever felt.

Until now.

After three days of riding across the Turan landscape, I’d gladly welcome an unhealthy dose of fenek tusk powder.

Though fenek were rare in Calandra. According to my tutors, the foxlike monsters had been hunted nearly to extinction a hundred years ago. As far as monsters went, they were the smallest, and while equally as vicious as those larger, they were easier to kill than tarkin or bariwolves or grizzurs.

Calandra had nearly seen the last of the fenek. But then someone had discovered that grinding their tusks into a powder produced the finest poison on the continent.

Breeding fenek was illegal in all kingdoms, but that didn’t mean much. For those with enough coin, the powder could be purchased on the black market.

Were there wild fenek in Turah?

I was too tired to ask Tillia. She rode at my side, her posture perfect and her expression relaxed. Clearly, her saddle didn’t chafe her inner thighs like mine. She looked as comfortable on that horse as she would be lounging on a settee.

Meanwhile, I probably looked like Brielle and Jocelyn. Haggard. Frazzled. On the brink of a physical and emotional crack.

How much farther would we ride today? We’d reached the edge of the plains around midday and were riding through the mountain foothills. They rolled, up and down and up and down. We’d crossed a stream earlier, pausing only long enough to let the horses take a drink before we’d pressed on.

The scents of pine and dirt surrounded us, sharp yet sweet and refreshing. The trees and underbrush weren’t as thick here as they’d been along the coast, giving us plenty of space between the thick, wide trunks for our party to weave through unencumbered.

It was no wonder that Turah provided lumber to the other four kingdoms. These trees seemed unbreakable. Unbending. Perfect for homes or ships. They were taller than any I’d ever seen, too. Their tops stretched toward the sky, their limbs providing shade from the punishing afternoon sun.

In Roslo, I’d always found a reason to leave the castle’s walls and spend a few hours outside. Those short escapes were the best part of my day. I loved the fresh air and freedom.

Now all I wanted was a bedroom and a bath and to forget the outdoors forever.

This morning, not long after dawn, when the sky was still dim, I’d thought I’d seen the twinkle of lights from a town or city. I’d watched them fade as the sun rose, hoping we were near our destination. But we’d kept riding for these foothills, and whatever place we’d passed was now long gone.

Each night, we slept on the dirt after a meal of roasted meat. Each morning, we ate our breakfast on horseback. Dried, leathery strips of meat and hard bread. That apple I’d inhaled felt like a lifetime ago.

My horse, the roan I’d decided to call Freya, stepped over a fallen branch. The change in her gait sent me shifting in my saddle, and the pain in my ass spiked. I clutched the reins and gritted my teeth, holding back a groan.

“Are you all right?” Tillia asked.

No. “Yes.”

“We’re almost there. This is the last push.”

“To Ellder?”

“Not yet,” she said. “There’s been a slight change in plan. We’ll be stopping in Treow.”

“Oh.” Why the change in plans? She wouldn’t tell me if I asked, so I didn’t bother. “Is Treow a town?”

I didn’t recognize the name, and it was embarrassing how little I knew of Turah. How much I had to ask. Here I was, the newest addition to the royal family, and I knew next to nothing about this kingdom.

“Yes and no,” Tillia said. “You’ll understand when we arrive.”

I loathed vague nonanswers. And the Turans excelled at delivering them.

Whatever. I just wanted off this fucking horse.

Had Mae studied the Turan geography? Did she know all of their towns and cities by heart? Had she memorized maps? She wasn’t even here, yet I was still lagging behind my sister. I was on the other side of the continent and still…less. Would that feeling ever go away?

Maybe. If I accomplished Father’s mission.

My journal was tucked safely into my satchel. I’d added a few notes last night at our camp, and I’d planned to draw the mountains, except the moment Tillia had seen me sketching, she’d told me to put my journal away and not let anyone see me with it again.

I hadn’t asked why. The severity of her tone had been enough for me to obey without question.

Besides, everything significant was locked in my head. Once we were somewhere safe, somewhere I could be alone, I’d start on a map.

“Would you like anything to eat?” Tillia asked.

“No, thank you.”

“You haven’t eaten much.”

I waved it off. “I’m not hungry.”

The food was tasty and nourishing, but my appetite was simply gone. My insides seemed to be in a permanent knot, with nothing else to do all day but ride and dwell.

So I dwelled.

On. Everything.

My own mind had become my worst enemy.

There wasn’t a single safe topic. I dwelled on my family. I dwelled on Brielle and Jocelyn and how they would undoubtedly hate me when this was over. I dwelled on Zavier and his disinterest. I dwelled on the gods and how they seemed to both love and hate humans. I dwelled on the stench of my breath and the stink of my body. I dwelled on the point of my chin and the taper of my nose.

And no matter how hard I tried to stop it, I dwelled on the Guardian.

He was a murderer. A legendary killer. Shouldn’t he frighten me? So far, I’d only seen him fight monsters. Granted, I didn’t expect to see him battle with his people, but the way they stared at him. It was in wonder. In devotion.

Not the way I would have expected people to act around a violent butcher. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get the picture of Tillia and the Guardian leaning on each other out of my head.

I liked Tillia. She’d been nothing but kind and respectful since I’d arrived in Turah. If there was a person in this kingdom I wanted to trust, it was her. She cared for the Guardian. Maybe she was even in love with him.

She didn’t seem like the type to love an evil man.

Maybe that was silly. We didn’t know each other. But the reason Margot hated my sketches was because they were real. I drew what I saw. When I looked to Tillia, I saw a warrior. A leader.

A woman who was practically a stranger, but a woman I admired all the same.

But the Guardian had killed Banner’s brother in a vicious, brutal way. Did Tillia know about that?

I lifted my hands to my temples, rubbing in angry circles. How did I shut off my mind? How did I make the thinking stop? Gods, I wanted off this fucking horse.

A noise rose up from the front of the group, a shout or a cheer. I couldn’t tell from my position in the middle of the riders.

Tillia stiffened, lifting her arm to the sword strapped across her back.

“What’s going on?” My knives were sheathed in their harness, the blades crisscrossed over my spine. Since that night with the grizzur, I hadn’t taken them off, even to rest. The Guardian had left us again, and I was not going to be unarmed if we faced another monster.

Tillia’s arm dropped to her heart as she exhaled. “Thank Arabella.”

Why was she thanking the God of Love?

Unless…

The Guardian had returned.

The riders in front of us shifted, making room for a man galloping through the heart of our party, straight our way.

I recognized him from the throne room. He was one of Zavier’s rangers, the man with long, black braids pulled into a knot at his nape who’d checked Father’s chest of gold coin. And his eyes were locked on Tillia.

She brought her horse to a stop, waiting with her hand still pressed over her heart. The moment the ranger reached her side, he took her face in his large hands, cupping her jaw as he pulled her close to seal his mouth over hers.

My brain exploded.

Um, who was he? What about the Guardian? What was happening?

Their kiss was hungry, like they were starved for each other. Their mouths moved, their cheeks hollowed as their tongues twisted.

Like they’d done it a hundred times, he swept her off her horse, their mouths never breaking, and plopped her onto his lap. As he cradled her body, she slid her hands to his neck, her palms pressed against his pulse.

They kissed as if they were the only people in the realm. Like the rest of us weren’t watching. I’d never seen anything like it before. And I’d never felt a kiss like that before. All-consuming. Desperate.

When they broke apart, Tillia laughed, tears streaming down her cheeks.

The ranger’s face softened as he caught them with his thumbs. Then he dropped his forehead to hers, murmuring something I couldn’t hear.

They were too locked on to each other to notice us staring.

“Come on,” I told Brielle and Jocelyn, nodding toward where the others had continued onward. “Let’s keep going.”

They urged their horses forward as I did the same, stealing one last glance at Tillia and her warrior.

He dropped a soft kiss to her mouth. It was tender. Beautiful. He loved her. She was his universe. At her side, he was home.

Tillia curled into him, her arms snaking around his waist as he breathed her in.

My heart squeezed as I faced forward. Not in a hundred years would Banner have ever kissed me that way. Not in a thousand would I have cried if we were apart.

It wouldn’t be any different with Zavier, would it? He would not adore me, worship me. I’d traded a loveless engagement for a loveless marriage.

I’d never had a man look at me that way. And I never would.

Why was this just occurring to me now? Why hadn’t it bothered me before?

Maybe because I hadn’t taken the time to dwell. The time to mourn the loss of a romance. Of passion. Of love.

It hit like a hammer to my chest. The envy I had for Tillia. The sorrow I felt because of that kiss.

“Highness,” Brielle said. “Are you all right?”

I dabbed at the corner of my eye, stopping the tear I wouldn’t let fall. “Fine.”

“You haven’t been eating enough.”

I shrugged. “I’m not hungry.”

“You need to rest.”

“We all need to rest.” Maybe we could once we got to Treow, wherever that was. I glanced behind us, searching for Tillia. She was still with her warrior, those trailing behind passing them with nods and smiles.

“Have you ever been in love, Brielle?” I asked.

“Yes.” A sadness filled her eyes. “He broke my heart, but I still love him. I always will.”

What? I gaped at her. When had that happened? Recently? I had no idea she’d had her heart broken. I’d never asked. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Why would you? You’re a princess. I’m your lady’s maid. My love life is hardly your concern.”

But it would be if we were friends. “Titles and roles don’t seem to matter as much in Turah.”

“You’re still a princess, Highness. No matter where we are, you’re royalty. I am not.”

What if I didn’t want to be royalty? What if I just wanted the chance to be kissed the way Tillia had been kissed?

We rode for a while before Tillia returned to my side. A stunning smile lit up her face, and it was impossible not to smile back.

“That is my husband,” she said. “Halston. He’s been traveling with Zavier. The Guardian told me the other night that he was leaving Perris to join us, but I always worry when we’re apart.”

Her husband. Halston.

The Guardian had told her about her husband. That’s why they’d been speaking so close. Not because they were together.

The relief was instant. The air rushed from my lungs. And with it, a guilt so toxic and ugly it might as well have been fenek poison.

I shouldn’t be relieved. I shouldn’t fucking care.

Tillia’s husband raced through the group, galloping past the riders at the edge. He lifted a hand to her. She blew him a kiss.

With Halston in the lead, he set a new pace for our party, the slow march becoming a fast walk that jostled my bones.

Somehow, the trees seemed to get even taller. Wider. Stronger.

“Have you ever seen such tall trees?” I asked Brielle.

“No, Highness.”

“You may call me Odessa.”

“I—” She shook her head. “I’ll try. But it will be a hard habit to break.”

And from the sound of it, she wasn’t really going to try. She’d keep our roles in place. Maybe that was the smartest choice.

Eventually, she’d leave. And I’d have something else to mourn.

“Listen,” Tillia said. “Do you hear that?”

It took me a moment, ears straining, but then I heard the sound carry through the trees.

A whistle. Almost like a bird’s but not quite.

“Come on.” She urged her horse into a trot. “We’re close.”

I groaned at the idea of keeping up, but I nudged Freya to follow, hoping that whenever we reached Treow, there’d be a flat spot where I could collapse.

We weaved past the riders, making our way to the front of the group, where Halston rode side by side with two more of Zavier’s rangers.

My husband? Nowhere in sight.

Should I be worried? If something had happened to the crown prince, surely someone would have told me, right?

“Ha,” I scoffed to myself. Because I was so often the person in the know? I’d be the last to learn of his fate.

“What?” Jocelyn asked.

“Nothing.” I shook it off. “Just reminding myself of my complete and utter insignificance.”

She gave me a sideways glance.

“Kidding,” I muttered. Not really.

Halston reached out to touch Tillia’s hand as we passed by, and the rangers let us take the lead as we rode into a clearing. A perfect oval in the forest bordered by a simple wooden fence. A corral or paddock of sorts. At one end was a wooden building that looked to be stables. And then came another whistle.

I searched the paddock, trying to find the source, but there was no one around.

“There.” Tillia pointed up and up and up.

To a watchtower built into a tree.

“Welcome to Treow.” She stopped in the middle of the clearing and dismounted.

I did the same, practically leaping off Freya and landing hard on my heels. My legs were in agony. My back, misery. I grimaced as I rolled my stiff arms.

“You’ll get a chance to rest now, Odessa.” Tillia took Freya’s reins, handing them to a boy who emerged from the trees.

Others followed behind him, each person wearing a smile as they raced to meet our group. They were all dressed in the same tunics and pants I’d been wearing for days, though they looked considerably less rumpled.

“Come,” Tillia said.

“What about Brielle and Jocelyn?” Both had fallen behind a bit and had just reached the clearing.

“They’ll be taken care of. Don’t worry. They won’t be far. Unless you need their assistance?”

“No.”

There was nothing I couldn’t do for myself. And with that came another wash of guilt.

I hadn’t needed either of them since we left Quentis. They didn’t need to be here with me. The sooner I could send them both home with the information for Father, the better.

Tillia led the way through the clearing to the tree line. We stepped out of the sun to the shade of branches and limbs.

To a place unlike anything I’d ever seen. It was like walking into a different realm.

When I’d asked her again earlier if Treow was a town, she’d said, “Yes and no.”

Now I understood.

Treow wasn’t a town with streets or roads or shops or squares. It was a town built into a forest.

Houses loomed above, secured to the massive evergreens. Some were connected by rope bridges. Others were unlinked, tethered to the earth by ladders.

Four little girls raced along a planked walkway above, leaning over the rail to giggle and stare down at us. Two of them were twins, each with olive skin and silky black hair.

Tillia brought two fingers to her lips and whistled up to them. It was sharp and loud, the same noise I’d heard before we’d arrived at Treow.

The girls all pressed their own fingers to their mouths, attempting to whistle back. It came out as mostly sputters and spit, which only made them laugh harder.

“We have lookouts at the perimeter,” she explained. “We whistle so that no one gets shot in the heart with an arrow.”

“Ah.” I nodded. “I don’t know how to whistle.”

“You don’t need to.”

Because I wouldn’t be staying? Or because I wouldn’t be going past the perimeter?

Questions for Zavier, if my husband ever stopped avoiding me.

In the meantime, I’d teach myself to whistle, just in case.

“Why the treehouses?” I asked Tillia.

“It’s safer this way. We’re in tarkin territory now. There are the occasional packs of bariwolves that will venture close. Grizzurs typically prefer the coast and plains, though they are unpredictable. They’ve been known to wander this way. Most villages in Turah have had to develop ways to guard against monsters. This”—she waved a hand to the structures above us—“is ours.”

“You live here?”

“Not permanently, but we spend a significant portion of the year in Treow.” She turned to walk backward, pointing to a house overhead. “That’s where Halston and I stay.”

From down below, I couldn’t tell one treehouse from the next. They all were just…floors.

“The one with the thatched roof and rope ladder,” she said.

Was this a trick? “They all have rope ladders.”

“But ours is the newest.” She laughed and spun forward, continuing our walk.

How far were we going? I glanced back, hoping to see the clearing past trunks, but it was gone.

“Most of us spend our days down here,” she said. “Cooking. Riding. Training. We take meals in the commons. I’ll give you a tour of that tomorrow after you’ve had some sleep.”

“How are the horses kept safe? Will my horse—” I stopped myself before finishing the question.

Freya wasn’t my horse. Not really. I’d named her out of boredom, not ownership. But after these hard days together, I didn’t want her to die.

“The horses are brought into the stables each night. Your horse is safe here, too.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She dipped her chin, then stopped at a rope ladder.

I looked up to find another treehouse. Maybe because I was standing directly below it, this one didn’t seem as far off the ground as the others. And it seemed twice as large.

It also had no walkways or bridges. It was a house apart. Secluded. Private.

Was this Zavier’s treehouse? Would he be joining me to finally…

I gulped.

Eventually, we’d have to suffer through a night of awkward sex. I just really, really hoped it wouldn’t be today.

“After you.” Tillia motioned me up. “Your trunks are waiting. The wagons rode ahead so everything would be ready for your arrival. They’ve also left you a meal. Please eat.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you need help?” Tillia asked.

To climb a ladder? Well, I’d never climbed a ladder before, wood or metal or rope. “Uh, no?”

I guess if I fell to my death, at least I’d get to skip that awkward sex.

With a fortifying breath, I started up the rungs, moving as fast as a sea turtle on sand. Sweat dripped down my spine and beaded at my temples by the time I finally reached the landing. There was probably a graceful way to get onto the treehouse’s balcony, but I flopped on my stomach like a dead fish, rolling and flipping until I was finally able to push to my knees and stand.

I leaned over the railing and gave Tillia a thumbs-up. “Made it.”

She looked like she was trying to hide a laugh. With a wave, she ran off in the direction of her own home, probably to hunt down her husband and find a bedroom.

Lucky woman.

I scanned the wide platform that ringed the structure, my hand skimming across the balcony’s railing as I walked its edge. The wooden boards beneath my feet were clean and dry, the pine needles swept away. As I rounded the building, I found another treehouse tucked behind this one. They were only ten feet apart. Close enough that I could throw a pine cone from one door to the other.

Maybe a guard’s quarters? Close enough to make a leap in an emergency?

I wasn’t in the mood to greet a neighbor, so I steeled my spine and opened the door. If this was Zavier’s treehouse, I couldn’t avoid it forever.

The inside was a single room with a large bed at its center. The mattress was covered in plush, oatmeal-colored blankets and fluffy pillows.

“Yes,” I breathed, my shoulders sagging. If enduring awkward sex meant I got to keep that bed, so be it.

There were soft, beige curtains on the ceiling, probably to drape around the bed for privacy. Or maybe to keep out bugs.

On one side of the room was a desk with a wooden chair. On the other was a carved wooden armoire. My trunks rested beside a floor-to-ceiling partition.

I went to peer around the partition’s edge, and the moan that escaped my chest vibrated the treehouse.

A water closet, complete with a sink and copper tub.

The tub had been filled with warm, steaming water.

I reached for the hem of my tunic, about to strip it off my body when the sound of footsteps came from outside.

My stomach sank. Damn.

I smoothed down my shirt, making sure every inch of my stomach was covered. Then I moved to the center of the room, expecting Zavier to walk through the door.

Silly me and my expectations. When was I going to learn not to assume anything?

Of course it wasn’t my husband who came inside.

It was the Guardian.

His beard was trimmed close to his jaw and his hair damp, like he’d just had a bath of his own. The collar of his tunic showed a triangle of taut, smooth skin above his heart. His pants molded to strong thighs and draped to scuffed boots. His eyes were that vivid emerald green.

He was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.

I dropped my gaze to the floor. “You.”

“Me.”

“I thought you’d be Zavier.”

He clicked his tongue. “Sorry to disappoint, my queen. He has been…detained.”noveldrama

“In Perris?”

“So curious.” He took slow, deliberate steps into the room, wandering to the desk.

The plate on top was covered by a cloth. He plucked it free, revealing roasted meat and vegetables and a roll of dense, dark bread.

My stomach growled, hungry for the first time in days. “Why are you here?”

“I’ve never met a woman who asked so many questions.”

“And received so few answers in return.”

His low laugh filled the room. “How about I ask the questions for a change?”

“If I say yes, will you leave?” I wanted to climb into that bathtub before the water cooled.

He re-covered my dinner, shifting to lean against the wall, crossing his arms. “Where is your home?”

“What’s the point to that question when you already know the answer?”

“Say it anyway.”

“Ros. Lo.” I articulated both syllables with my frustration. “Happy?”

“Quite. Was that so hard, Sparrow?”

“Is there a point to this?”

“Of course. Now I know what it’s like to hear a truth roll off your tongue.”

“Because you think I’ve been lying to you all this time?” I rolled my eyes. “We’ve already established that you’ll never trust me. No matter what I say. Can we move this along? I’m hungry.”

The corner of his mouth turned up. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-three. How old are you?”

He looked to be in his twenties, like me. Though maybe he was like the Voster and long-lived. Maybe he was a hundred years old and only looked like a man in his prime.

He tsked. “There she goes with the questions again. You really can’t help yourself, can you?”

“No, I guess not.”

“Your eyes. You don’t have a starburst.”

Neither did he. Did that make us similar somehow? Was he worried I was harboring gifts like his? The strength or speed? Our training sessions should have put those fears to rest. My eyes might be different, but I was nothing special.

“That wasn’t a question. Anything else?”

“Are you a virgin?”

Did he actually care? No.

Was he asking to get a reaction? Yes.

Was it working? Unfortunately.

My cheeks flamed. My hands fisted at my sides. “Next question.”

“Are you enjoying your time in Turah?”

“Not especially.”

“Do you like the horse you were riding?”

“Yes.”

“How sore is your ass right now?”

“Very,” I answered through gritted teeth.

He shoved off the wall and stalked close, the tips of his boots nearly skimming mine. I could feel the heat from his chest. Smell the scent of his skin and soap. “Did your father send you here to spy?”

“No.”

It was the best lie I’d ever delivered. Even I would believe me.

“You’re a terrible liar, Cross.” He touched a curl at my temple, the strand having fallen out of my braid.

I batted his hand away. “How long will I be staying here?”

He lifted a shoulder. “I’m not sure.”

“When will I travel with Zavier to Allesaria?”

“Eager to see our pretty castle, my queen?”

My nostrils flared. “Ready to be away from you.”

“You’re assuming I don’t live in Allesaria.”

“Do you?” I couldn’t picture him in a city. The Guardian seemed like a man more comfortable in the wilderness. A beast content to roam free.

A monster in his own right.

“You’ll go to Allesaria when Zavier can trust you.”

“And if he’s like you and will never trust me? Then what? I live in this treehouse for the rest of my life?”

That made him smile. A menacing, evil, gorgeous smile.

“Go away,” I snapped, turning to stare at the wall.

His laugh lingered, even after he walked out the door.

I waited a heartbeat, then followed, hoping to lock him out.

Only there wasn’t a lock.

I expected to see him descending the rope ladder. Instead, he unhooked it from its fascinators and flung it to the ground. “Hey, what are you—”

He leaped over the railing, dropping to the earth.

I rushed to the edge, peering to the forest floor. Hoping to find his body bent and broken. Sure, this treehouse didn’t seem to be as tall as the others, but the drop was still twenty feet.

The Guardian, completely unharmed, tucked his hands in his pockets and strolled away.

Certainly not worried that he’d just left me stranded.

“Jackass,” I said, hoping he could hear me.

He kept walking but started whistling a happy little tune.

“Grr.” I slammed my palms onto the railing, glaring at his back until he was out of sight.

This treehouse might not be as far from the ground as others, but it was definitely too far for me to jump. I’d break my damn neck.

And now I was trapped.

In a fucking treehouse.