Shield of Sparrows, page 24
“What are they doing?” I asked, voice low. “Why are they—” The sorrow in her gaze was all the explanation I needed. “They’re going to destroy them.”
Cathlin swallowed hard and nodded.
“Why?” They were just books.
Her jaw clenched as she said nothing.
A soldier produced a piece of flint rock and struck it against a knife, sending sparks to the pile. The fire was instant, and as it burned, the soldiers raiding treehouses kept adding their finds to the blaze, all while Ramsey watched on.
The bitter tang of smoke filled the air. When the flames were well and truly ablaze, when it was past the point of saving even one book, the king tugged on his stallion’s reins, and as quickly as they’d appeared, the soldiers were gone.
The fire burned, sparks shooting into the air.
Not a soul moved in the commons. Every ranger stood at the fire, watching until the flames began to die, ensuring it didn’t spread. Until all that remained of Cathlin’s library was a smoking pile of white ash.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
She squeezed my hand, brushing away a tear as it dripped down her cheek. Then she turned around and walked away.
I stepped out from behind the tree and headed toward the commons. Halston was with Tillia, his arm around her shoulders as they spoke, heads bent close.
Others emerged from the trees, wearing solemn faces.
Had those soldiers done anything but take books? Had anyone been hurt?
A few people stepped closer to the library’s charred remains, inspecting the glowing red-orange coals. But most simply seemed relieved that the king was gone. They retreated to their homes, probably to right the messes the soldiers had made.
My appetite for breakfast was gone, so I made my way back to my treehouse, dread heavy in my gut as I climbed the rope ladder.
The door was ajar.
I’d closed it when I left this morning.
My heart sank as I pushed it open, taking in the disarray. Clothes were strewn across the room. The armoire was empty, its contents scattered with those from my trunks. My bed was off its frame, the blankets tossed with gray dresses. The stench of my hair dye clung to the air from the broken jar in the corner.
The crown I’d left on the bedside table was gone.
As were the books I’d borrowed from the library.
Some strange man had put his hands on my underclothes.
The violation made my stomach roil, my skin crawl.
Those books had been on the corner of my neatly made bed. The soldier could have just taken them without trashing my room in the process. He could have simply stolen the crown.
The walls inched closer. The air tasted sour. I spun, leaving the mess for the balcony. Then I walked around to the back of the treehouse. To the limb that hung low and close to the roof.
Carefully, I braced myself against the wall and railing, hoisting myself up toward that limb.
And the satchel I had hidden on a bushy, evergreen bow.
Flipping open the bag, I made sure my journal, my coin, and my necklace were all safely tucked inside.
After Tillia had warned me to keep my journal out of sight, I’d heeded her advice. And I’d learned a long, long time ago not to hide things under my mattress. Mae always looked there first when she was searching for my diaries.
A low chuckle startled me as I climbed down to the balcony. I whirled, finding the Guardian outside his own treehouse, a grin on his face.
“Clever, my queen.”
Yes, it had been clever. A safe space for my secret things.
And now the bane of my existence knew I had something to hide.
Damn.
Twenty-Three
The week that passed after King Ramsey’s visit to Treow was uneventful. Peaceful, even.
I knew it wouldn’t last. There was too much uncertainty, too many unanswered questions, particularly from my still-absent husband. But I let myself spend a week enjoying this semblance of routine.
Every morning, Tillia and I trained together for hours. She taught me how to fight as a woman, to use what we had to our advantage against larger and stronger opponents. She taught me how to strike a man’s groin. How to gouge eyes. How to leverage the strength in our hips if we were ever pinned to the ground.
She pushed me harder and harder each day, almost like she was preparing me for a war.
Like she could feel a battle coming.
After my daily training with Tillia, I’d return to the treehouse, where Brielle or Jocelyn would stop by to visit and deliver breakfast. I’d spend a while sketching in my journal until midday. I’d taught myself how to whistle. Then, every afternoon, I’d go to the paddock to spend some time riding Freya. If I was going to be roaming the Turan landscape, I needed more practice on my horse. And after that daily ride, I set off to explore, wandering around the encampment and eavesdropping on its residents.
Mariette, I’d learned, was austere with everyone. Two of the cooks were sleeping with a boy who worked at the stables, and everyone but them knew he was playing them both. And the pony riders were as aloof to questions as the rest of the Turans.
I’d gone to meet yesterday’s pony rider in the clearing. I’d casually asked if he ever visited Allesaria.
The man tossed the post at my feet and rode away.
Being a spy was hard.
In the evenings, I ate dinner with Brielle and Jocelyn. Neither loved their accommodations, but both insisted they were fine. I’d asked Tillia to move them closer to my treehouse, but apparently the only person in Calandra that Tillia feared was Mariette. So I was waiting for Zavier to show up.
The prince could overrule a caretaker, right?
After those evening meals with Brielle and Jocelyn, I’d return to my treehouse and go through the stretches Tillia had taught me, working the stiffness out of my muscles. Some nights, when I couldn’t sleep right away, I’d lie in bed and stare through my skylights at the stars. I’d wonder if my mother was in Arabella’s shade, watching me from her heaven.
Other nights, if the sky was too cloudy, I’d stare at my necklace, taking in the wing and metal.
And every night, I’d dwell. Any topic was open for overthinking.
Especially Zavier.
Was he going to come back? Was leaving me here his revenge against my father? Had it been his idea to take my rope ladder every single night?
I hadn’t seen the Guardian in a week. He’d left the morning after King Ramsey’s visit, and his treehouse remained dark and empty. But he’d clearly delegated the task of keeping me captive to another.
I’d go into my nightly bath with a ladder. Emerge soaking wet without. But by dawn, when Tillia was waiting, there it would be.
Just like this morning.
As I hopped off the last rung, she greeted me with a smile as we started for the training area. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yes. You?”
She shrugged. “I have a hard time when Halston is gone.”
He’d left at the same time as the Guardian. As much as I wanted to know details, I refused to ask. Halston would come back. Eventually. Would the Guardian?
Part of me hoped he wouldn’t. That he’d stay away from Treow, from me, for good. That was the part of me that wouldn’t admit I hoped to see him again.
“We’ll spar today,” she said when we reached the training area.
“Can’t wait,” I deadpanned.
We both laughed.
Then we got to work. An hour into training, it was not going well. I couldn’t seem to concentrate. The steps and moves she’d shown me yesterday flittered out of my mind like butterflies on the wind.
“You’re distracted today,” she said with a frown as we took a water break.
“No, I’m not.”
I was definitely distracted.
Every training space was taken today, like it had been all week. The clang of striking blades and the whoosh of flying arrows mingled with shouts from the men and women who’d come to practice.
It had been this way since Ramsey’s visit. Everyone in Treow seemed on edge. Why? What had he said to Tillia?
I hadn’t worked up the courage to ask about their discussion. Yet. Maybe tomorrow. Or the next day.
“Odessa.” Tillia snapped her fingers in front of my face.
“What? I’m listening.”
“Really?” She fisted a hand on her hip. “And what did I say?”
“That I’m doing a great job today?”
She sighed. “I said that I want you to start running.”
“Running.” Eww. “Why?”
“Your stamina is shit.”
It might have hurt my feelings if I hadn’t heard that before. “You don’t look like the Guardian, but you two sure sound alike.”
A smile tugged at her mouth. “Thanks.”
Of course she’d take that as flattery. “Where exactly do you want me running?”
“Make laps around Treow. Start with one. Increase to two, then three. Most of us run between five and ten a day.”
My jaw dropped.
Treow was huge. One lap would be farther than I’d ever run in my life.
Now that I’d gotten to know the encampment, I’d learned about its borders and where the watchtowers were located. I’d also learned where they kept the lionwick snares so that I didn’t accidentally spring one and find myself stuck in a net.
“Do I have to?” I asked.
Tillia arched an eyebrow. That meant yes.
“Fine.”
My stamina, while improving, was still shit compared to the Turans. After each training session, my lungs were on fire and my muscles burned. I was coated in sweat, and though my body was adjusting to these new physical demands, there was still a long way to go.
“You can start running today,” she said, setting her water cup aside and returning to the center of the ring. “After a few more minutes of sparring.”
Gods, already? The water breaks she gave me seemed to be getting shorter and shorter. “How did you and Halston meet?”
“Stalling, Odessa?”
“Yes,” I admitted.
Her smile said she was going to indulge me. “Halston and I have known each other since we were children. We grew up together in a small village along the border with Ozarth. Not far from Westor.”
“Have you been together long?”
“Since we were young.” The green starbursts in her gaze seemed to glow, like thinking of her husband lit her up from the inside out. “I had a dog when I was a child. Creed. He was big and loud and always by my side. He slept at the foot of my bed from the time I was just a baby. My mother called him my sentry. Creed died when I was thirteen.”
“I’m so sorry.”
She lifted a shoulder. “He was old. One day, he wandered off and never came back. It was his time to go to the shades. But it broke my heart. Halston found me crying one day after school. He walked me home and held my hand. We’ve been together ever since. I like to believe that Creed only left me because he knew Halston would be there to fill his place.”
I pressed a hand to my heart, rubbing at the ache for a girl who’d lost her companion only to find another. Her soulmate.
Tillia blinked too fast, like she was fighting tears for her dog. Then she waved me forward. “All right. Let’s get back to work.”
I groaned, finishing my drink. Then I joined her with a heavy sigh, lifting my fists. Today, she was teaching me how to punch, which seemed ten times harder than blocking hers. “Okay. Ready.”
“Try to hit me this time. Stop pulling your punches.”
“It’s rude to hit your friends.”
Her expression flattened. “Odessa.”
“I’m really better suited to defense.” I dropped my hands. “I don’t need to be a beautifully menacing warrior like you. I just want to keep myself alive the next time a marroweel tries to eat me.”
“To accomplish that, all you really had to do was stay on the fucking ship.”
I whirled at the rugged voice and found its source leaning against a tree.
The Guardian was dressed in his leather pants, but instead of a tunic, he wore a wool sweater. The beige fabric molded to his frame, making his shoulders look even broader than normal. The ends of his hair were past his shoulders now, windblown and messy like he’d been riding hard for hours. His beard was growing unruly again, like he hadn’t bothered with a blade all week.
My heart leaped at the same time it sank. It was the strangest sensation, so odd that I choked.
“Good?” Tillia patted me on the back as I coughed.
“Fine.” I nodded, rubbing at my sternum.
He smirked. “Miss me, Cross?”
“Never.”
I was an awful liar.
“I’ll take over.” The Guardian pushed off the tree.
“Oh, hell.” I grimaced.
I’d gotten comfortable with Tillia. Sure, she liked to torture me, but it was a relaxed torture. With her, my pulse didn’t beat a little too fast. My lungs didn’t struggle to breathe deep.
This man made me jittery.
It was his powers. That buzzing, raw energy put me on edge.
I really was an awful liar, even to myself.
Shades, this had to stop. Maybe now that he was in Treow again, I could stop wondering about his whereabouts and go back to loathing him instead. Go back to plotting his murder.
“Where did you go?” I asked as he stood in front of me, arms loose at his sides.
“Worried about me, my queen?”
I rolled my eyes. “Only that you’d die and I wouldn’t get to spit on your grave.”
His smirk widened. “Fear not. I’m still very much alive and back to be your keeper.”
“My keeper?” Is that why Zavier had left me in Treow?
“Someone has to babysit.”
Okay. Ouch. Was I really such a burden?
“Where is Zavier?”
“Longing for your beloved, Sparrow?”
My nostrils flared. “Do you know how annoying it is to ask a question and get one in return?”
“Do you?”
Days wondering where he had gone while I should have been praising Ama and Oda for keeping the son of a bitch away.
“Never mind.” I flicked my wrist. “Are we training or not?”
He chuckled, reaching behind his head to fist his sweater and yank it off his torso, revealing the fitted sleeveless shirt beneath. His arms were corded in muscle, stronger than any man’s I’d ever seen.
A shudder ran through my body, and I forced my eyes to the dirt.
He’s a monster. He’s a monster, he’s a monster, he’s a monster. A beautiful monster but a monster all the same. He’d killed Banner’s brother. He was a murderer.
And I was married.
Married. Married. Married.
Shit, my face was hot.
The Guardian’s finger hooked under my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Need a moment?”
I swatted his hand away and took a step back, raising my fists. “No. Let’s get on with it.”
“Your wish.” He mocked a bow, then slapped me in the face.
The strike was so fast I never saw it coming. I couldn’t have blocked it if I’d tried.
My jaw dropped as I pressed my palm to the slight sting in my cheek. “You hit me.”
Sort of.
If he’d actually wanted to hurt me, he would have closed his fist. Or added some strength to that slap. It had really been more of a tap. There was just enough of a smack that I’d learn a lesson.
“Only making sure you’re awake.” There was a glint in his eyes, the sadistic prick.
My teeth clicked as I closed my mouth, my molars grinding as I raised my hands again.
This time when his hand flew, I was ready. I let my shoulders twist at the same time my hands deflected the blow enough that only the tips of his fingers grazed my cheek.
“Ha.” I pumped a fist as my smile bloomed. Was it stupid to celebrate? Yes. Was I going to do it anyway? Absolutely.
“You’ve been practicing. Not only with Tillia.” Was that pride in his gaze? Probably not.
But I’d be proud enough for us both because I had absolutely been practicing. On the nights that were too quiet without the sound of ocean waves, I’d spend my midnight hours practicing. Dancing.
Tillia had told me to treat fighting like a dance. To find the rhythm with an opponent the way you would a partner.
My dance tutor in Roslo had been one of the few to tell me I wasn’t entirely hopeless. I wasn’t a great dancer, but I wasn’t dreadful, either. So I danced and danced and danced until my mind was clear and my body drained. Then I’d fall into a hard sleep until dawn.
“Again,” the Guardian said with a nod. Except as I lifted my hands, his gaze shifted over my shoulder. A slow smile stretched across his mouth.
Soft lips. Straight, white teeth. Sparkling eyes. That smile was breathtaking.
My heart fluttered for just a moment until I realized I wasn’t the person who’d earned that smile. It wasn’t for me.
And I shouldn’t want it for my own.
Gods, what was wrong with me? What was it about him that stuck?
He needed to leave Treow again. For good.
“Spying, Evangeline?”
Evangeline. I turned, expecting to see a woman as beautiful as her name. But instead, there was a little girl standing nearby, wearing a frown with her arms crossed over her chest.
It was the little girl I’d seen in the commons. The girl with brown hair and big, gray eyes.
“She’s not clumsy,” Evangeline said.
I huffed, my attention whipping to the Guardian. “You called me clumsy?”
He shrugged.
“I hate you.”
