Shield of Sparrows

The sword he’d given me was elegant yet simple. Exactly what I would have chosen for myself. The weapons that Mae collected were embellished with fancy flourishes and inlaid with jewels. I didn’t want or need an extravagant sword.

The steel blade was so smooth and clean I could see my own reflection in its edge. The pommel and cross guard were gold. The grip was black and narrow to fit the size of my hand.

I spent a week learning how to wield it. A week scrambling around Ellder’s training center, dodging blows and falling on my ass. A week earning the Guardian’s frowns and scowls and grumbled critiques.

It was the best week I’d had in a long time.

Every muscle in my body ached. As soon as one bruise faded, another bloomed. Even my hair hurt from where he’d yanked too hard on my braid yesterday to teach me a lesson—cut it or keep it out of the way.

I was not cutting my hair.

So today for training, I’d pinned the braid in a twist at my nape. We’d been at it for nearly two hours, and not a single pin had stayed in place.

I flicked the sloppy braid over my shoulder as I faced the Guardian and readied for his next attack.

“For the love of Mack, would you fucking relax, Cross? Breathe before you pass out.” He mentioned the God of War often. Not really a surprise. I bet they were good friends.

I tightened the grip on my sword’s hilt. “I am relaxed. And breathing.”

“Then tell your shoulders to climb down from your ears.”

My shoulders dropped. “Happy now?”

“I’ll be happy if you keep me from drawing blood.” He lifted his sword, eyebrows raised. “Ready?”

No. Was anyone ever ready to fight the Guardian? “Yes.”

He came at me with a strike to my ribs. I deflected, barely, and took a quick side step to my left. Then the blows came one after another, pushing me around the ring until we’d moved through the whole circle.

I managed to block each of his strikes, which meant the last would be so fast I wouldn’t even see it coming.

A silver streak.

It flashed in my periphery, and I moved too late.

His sword stopped at my throat, the blade only a hair’s width from my skin.noveldrama

My heart thundered, and my chest heaved with every breath. But I kept my neck taut, not wanting to feel that razor-sharp tip dig into my flesh.

The Guardian’s hazel eyes were hard as he stared down the length of his sword. Those eyes were always hazel when we trained. But as his gaze dropped to my mouth, the color shifted, slowly, like clouds overtaking a clear sky.

The gold and chocolate speckles became smaller and smaller as brilliant, bold green filled his irises. His tongue darted out, licking his bottom lip, and the dip in my belly was instant. Heat blossomed in my core, desire pooling between my thighs.

The blade was still at my throat, but it was that stare, it was the way I couldn’t look away from his own soft lips that was the real danger here.

I took five shallow breaths. Six. It was easier to pretend I didn’t want him when he wasn’t staring at my mouth. When I didn’t let myself consider that he might want me, too.

The moment ended in a blink, the green in his eyes flashing back to hazel as his sword fell away. “That’s all for today.”

I exhaled, dropping my arms to my sides. Brushing off the moment and willing that dull throb in my center to stop.

“Your stamina—”

“Is shit.” I sighed. “I know.”

“It’s better.”

I feigned shock. “Was that… Did you just say I was improving?”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Never.” A smile toyed on my mouth.

His face had a light sheen of sweat. Every day, he’d arrived clean-shaven. Except today. His jaw was covered in a dusting of day-old stubble, and after one look, I’d decided instantly it was my favorite version. Then I’d tripped over my own feet.

He, of course, had laughed.

“I noticed the soldiers work their horses out by riding the perimeter of the fence,” I said. “If there’s a horse available, I was wondering if I could resume riding again.”

“So that when you sneak out of Ellder, this time you do it on your own and not in a merchant’s wagon?”

“Exactly.” I lifted my chin, meeting his gaze.

Emerald green.

My belly fluttered. I dropped my head and stared at the dirt.

Every evening, I told myself to skip training the next day. To stay locked in my suite until he left Ellder. And every morning, I met the Guardian at dawn.

He’d told me on that horseback ride from Ashmore that the gods were vindictive, manipulative bastards. Maybe he was right.

By this cruel twist of fate, I was married to Zavier while this man haunted my dreams.

This was all we’d ever have together. Morning training sessions with veiled compliments and unfiltered mockery. It wasn’t a friendship. But when I thought about my days in Turah, the best had been with the Guardian.

Maybe that was why I couldn’t seem to let him go.

“What did Zavier say when you asked him to ride?” he asked.

“I didn’t ask him. I’m asking you.”

It was my turn to give him a test. Was it really Zavier granting me my wishes? Or was it the Guardian?

“I’ll mention it to Zavier.” He dipped his head, and then he was gone, stalking across the training center, passing other warriors and soldiers—all of whom paused to gape as the legend walked by. He disappeared around the corner of a building.

Yet those emerald green eyes would linger in my mind for hours.

Emerald meant he was amused. Intrigued. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever seen him actually happy, but green was the color of his gaze when he wasn’t pissed off. They changed to varying shades of hazel when he was serious or focused or annoyed. And then there was the silver of his rage.

I shouldn’t be able to read his eyes. I should have been concentrating on Zavier’s instead. Yet my husband had made himself scarce, spending most of his time with Evie.

So I’d memorized details about the wrong man’s eyes.

When my heart was crushed, I’d only have myself to blame.

With my sword sheathed, I left the training center, nodding to those I passed along the way. The area was more formal than the areas of dirt in Treow. Here, there were racks of weapons to borrow. For every sparring space, a girl or boy was stationed with a bucket of drinking water. A row of targets was lined up along a wooden fence for use in archery and crossbow practice.

Once I was out of the training area, I wound along the streets of Ellder, in no rush to return to my lonely suite.

Most people in the fortress didn’t pay much attention to this princess. No one seemed to realize I was the Sparrow, and I doubted the majority of Turans even knew Zavier had gotten married. Most probably expected him to wed at the autumnal equinox.

It meant that I was just another person in Ellder. From time to time, I’d get a lingering glance, but I credited those to my hair and golden eyes.

Not a soul had called me Highness since I’d arrived at the fortress, and the reprieve made me realize just how much I’d needed this place. This chance to breathe and flourish without the titles. To escape the pomp and pageantry of royal life. To observe the Turans and make my own opinions about this new kingdom of mine.

I liked how they didn’t shy away from hard work. How even when they had sweat running down their backs, there were smiles on their faces. I admired their devotion to family. I envied it, too. They were kind to their neighbors. They’d been kind to me.

What if Father had lied? What if he wasn’t after something in Allesaria but did plan on starting a war after he broke the treaty? How many Turans would die if he invaded? How many Quentins?

The people here would not go down without a fight. They were as loyal as they were brave. If Father brought his army to Turah, blood from both countries would be on my hands.

The notion of disappointing Father made my skull ache. But the idea of betraying the Turans made my stomach churn.

I was stuck. And considering I had nothing to give Father, I’d stay stuck.

The books Cathlin had given me were entertaining, but they hadn’t solved the problem of Allesaria. And when I’d gone to the dungeons five days ago, hoping to sneak a look at Luella’s scrolls, every cell had been emptied.

She’d taken everything and hidden it away.

As it had been in Treow, no one in Ellder spoke of Allesaria. A few days ago, I’d asked a housemaid if she’d ever been to the city. After a quick no, she’d curtsied and hurried away. Yesterday, I’d visited the bakery for the first time, and there’d been a soldier in line, waiting to buy a fruit tart. We’d idly chatted as we’d waited, and I’d asked if his only station was Ellder or if he’d also been to the capital. He’d made up an excuse about being late for his shift on the wall and left without a tart.

What if Allesaria didn’t exist?

That thought had crossed my mind more than once. I’d dismissed it initially, certain that no kingdom could pull off the ruse of a fake city.

But what if Allesaria was a lie?

We’d landed on that nowhere beach. Perris, the former capital, was a port city. Zavier had gone to Perris and left me behind. What if it was still the capital?

Or what if there was no capital at all? No castle? What if after the migration three generations ago, the Turans had decided to fool us all. To lead us on a chase to a place that did not exist.

If anyone mentioned Allesaria, the Turans would know that person was likely up to no good.

If the city didn’t exist, there was nothing I could share with Father. I couldn’t fail a task that was doomed from the start. So in a way, it wasn’t my fault for letting him down this time.

Well, there was no way to know. For now, I was erasing Allesaria from my vocabulary. The encounter with the soldier had scared me enough that I wouldn’t bring it up again. I was enjoying my own invisibility too much and didn’t want to court unnecessary attention.

The only people who knew I was married to Zavier were Zavier, the Guardian, Luella, Cathlin, and me.

Not even Evie seemed to know I was married to her father. Yesterday, she’d asked me my last name. She had no idea I was a princess from Quentis. She had no idea I was Zavier’s wife.

Thank the gods, I hadn’t slipped and told her the secret. Was it a secret?

I’d planned to ask Zavier about it last night, but he’d missed dinner. Maybe today I’d find out. Or maybe I’d just let my identity remain a mystery.

Maybe it was easier for all of us if I was just Odessa.

Dess.

I was about to turn off the main road for the house when a scream rent the air. I spun toward the noise, finding the Guardian stalking my way with a kicking, frantic Evie slung over his shoulder.

“I’m going with him.” She pounded her fists on his back.

“Evie. Stop.”

She kicked harder, wiggling to be put down.

His nostrils flared. The hazel was back.

“Let me go.” Evie screamed again, so loud I winced.

“No.” The Guardian marched on, ignoring the curious and pointed stares.

“I can fight!” Evie thrashed so violently that she worked a leg free. She twisted fast, forcing him to set her down. She lunged to the side, about to bolt away, but he caught her around the belly, hoisting her up again, her feet kicking like she was trying to run through the air.

“Evangeline.” He roared her name, and all her flailing stopped. If he had yelled my name like that, I would have frozen, too.

She folded in half, draped over his arm like a sack of potatoes.

He closed his eyes, heaved a sigh, and stopped, setting Evie on her feet as he crouched in front of her.

Her shoulders began to shake before she collapsed into his chest and sobbed.

“I’m sorry.” He wrapped her in his arms.

“He always leaves me,” she cried.

Zavier.

My hand came to my aching heart. This poor girl. She loved her father, and he was gone more often than not.

“I can fight. I can go hunting with him. Please,” she pleaded as the sobs continued.

“It’s not safe.” The Guardian spoke in a voice so gentle I didn’t recognize it. Probably because that voice was only for her.

“But I’m strong and brave.”

He eased her away, wiping the tears off her cheeks with his thumbs. “Sometimes being strong and brave means staying behind and out of the fight.”

She shook her head. “No, it doesn’t.”

“What if we did something special?”

Evie sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “Like what?”

“I was going to ride to Treow tomorrow. To get a horse.”

My horse. Freya.

He was going to go get my horse.

The Guardian’s eyes flicked my way, acknowledging for the first time that I was standing there.

“Can I go with you?” Evie asked him.

“Only if you promise to behave.”

She signed the Eight. “I swear it by the gods.”

“What about you?” He stared at her but spoke to me. “Are you coming with us, Cross?”

Evie whirled, finding me standing behind her. She clasped her hands together and nodded. “You have to come. Please, Dess. Please.”

“Hmm.” I tapped my chin, pretending to think it over. “I’m very busy, but I guess I could make time for a trip to Treow.”