Shield of Sparrows, page 20
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.”
“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.
Twenty
My rope ladder was back.
When I’d stepped outside a few minutes ago to wave down anyone who might get me out of this tree, I’d expected to find the ladder still pooled on the ground. But someone had reattached it to my balcony, either this morning or last night.
Last night, after my bath and dinner, I’d crawled into bed and passed out. I’d awoken to the sound of birds chirping beyond the treehouse windows. If not for my hunger pangs, I’d probably still be asleep. Strange how I felt even more tired today. My head was in a fog. My body sluggish.
I was going to hunt down breakfast, then crawl back in that bed for a week.
Testing the top rung of the ladder with a foot, making sure it was secure, I climbed down as clumsily as I’d climbed up yesterday.
How did they attach these ladders? Did someone scale the tree? Did they use rods and hooks to lift the ropes into place?
I made a mental note to ask Tillia about the mechanics as I hopped off the last rung to the ground, brushing my hands on the clean pair of charcoal pants I’d donned with my fresh tunic—this one the palest of blues and embroidered with navy and white stars.
I’d found all-new clothing in the armoire. There’d been another pair of boots, too. Whoever Zavier had tasked with keeping me clothed with Turan pieces was doing a fine job.
My drab gray dresses were still in my trunks. When I’d opened the lid to one last night, I’d also found my crown.
Zavier hadn’t tossed it into the Krisenth. He’d given it back. I doubt I’d ever wear it again, but it was a piece of home.
The cut on my palm was healing, a scar beginning to form, but I’d wrapped it in a fresh bandage. My hair was shampooed, combed, and freshly dyed. My arms were too tired to bother with a braid, so I’d left the curls loose and wild. By midday, they’d be double the size, but hopefully by then, they’d be buried in my pillows.
Unlike the filthy corpse I’d been last night, this morning, I actually looked human. After a meal, I might actually feel that way, too.
“Odessa.” Tillia walked through the trees, a smile on her beautiful face.
I waved. “Good morning.”
“Afternoon.”
Ah. “That explains why I’m so hungry.”
She laughed. “We all deserved some extra rest. Come, I’ll show you around, and we’ll get you something to eat.”
She led me along a different path than we’d taken yesterday. We wended through the trees, beneath more houses, to what I assumed was the heart of Treow. There were four sturdy log buildings positioned around an open square filled with tables and chairs.
“This is the commons.” She pointed to the tallest of the four buildings. “That is the dining hall, where all the cooking is done and meals are served.”
“Do we pay for them?” Like the vendors who’d sell bowls of rice and roasted vegetables and fish on the docks.
“Treow is run more like an encampment than a village. Most of the people who stay here are just passing through. Some stay longer than others, like Halston and me. But most are soldiers and their families traveling between fortresses. So, the king provides for our meals and such.”
“Ah.” Similar to the military outposts in Quentis.
Father made sure his soldiers had shelter and food in exchange for their service.
“This closest building is the mercantile,” she said. “They keep limited quantities of the necessities on hand, but if there’s anything you need, just ask the clerk. Ashmore is the closest town. We rode past it on the way here. They bring shipments over once or twice a week. If their merchants don’t have what you need, they can request it from Perris or Ellder.”
“Not Allesaria?”
Her smile dimmed as she shook her head. “No.”
Just…no.
Okay. Why was it that every time I brought up Allesaria, the mood would change?
“Across from the mercantile is the laundry,” she continued. “There are cleaning supplies inside, but your lady’s maids will be attending to your treehouse every day. Just leave out whatever you’d like to be washed.”
“All right.” I nodded to the last of the buildings. “And that one?”
“The infirmary and library.”
A library. This strange military outpost had a library? “I like libraries.”
Especially when they came with history books and maps. Not that I was expecting to be handed a map, but it was worth a try. Maybe there was some bit of information to glean and tuck away in my journal.
