Shield of Sparrows, page 31
“What does that mean? That gesture?”
“It means I wish you a safe journey, Princess Odessa Wolfe.”
Normally, I would have balked at the formal name, but there was something in her voice that gave me pause. Something serious that said I needed to get used to that title.
To embrace it.
Who was this woman? We’d survived the unthinkable yesterday, and I didn’t even know her last name. Maybe it didn’t matter.
I put my hands over my heart and bowed.
Boots thudded across the floor. Purposeful, long strides that I was beginning to recognize.
The Guardian stopped at my side, his attention on Cathlin. “You’re leaving.”
Another statement.
“Yes.”
I waited for his hands to cover his heart, but instead, he pulled her in for a hug.
Wait, he hugged? That seemed so…sweet. Very un-Guardian-like. When he let her go, he jerked his chin for me to follow. No sweet for me.
“Goodbye, Cathlin,” I said.
“Farewell, Odessa.”
I hoped I’d see her again soon. Life felt fragile at the moment. Fleeting.
With my book tucked into my satchel, I rushed to catch up to the Guardian.
He and his horse waited outside. The stallion’s black coat was glossy beneath the morning sun.
The Guardian stroked the animal’s cheek, murmuring something low. The horse leaned into his touch.
It was a lovely day, clear skies and a crisp sweetness in the air. It seemed like a waste. No one here would enjoy it, certainly not me. People walked with their heads bowed as they hurried down the streets.
All happiness had been slaughtered.
“They should have had a warning. Protection,” I said.
The Guardian’s jaw clenched as he fastened his sword and its scabbard to the saddle.
I hadn’t meant it as an insult, but as I replayed my words, I heard it from his side of the horse. I’d just implied he’d failed these people. “I didn’t mean from you.”
“And who else would protect them?”
“The king. The crown. Can’t Zavier step in? Send some of his rangers to these towns to help?”
The Guardian’s eyes, hazel and angry, met mine. The glare was all I needed to realize I’d crossed a line.
A reminder that this princess, this future queen, this Sparrow, was to be seen and not heard.
“I’m only asking. I think I have that right.”
“Really?” He arched an eyebrow. “Who gave you that right?”
“My blood. The moment I signed my name on that treaty. The day Zavier claimed his bride prize. I’m here. I’m in Turah. I have the right just like any other person in this kingdom. This cannot stand. This cannot continue.”
“And what do you suggest, my queen? What should we do about this? What solution do you propose that Zavier, myself, and all of our rangers have not already considered?”
A flood of embarrassment made me draw my shoulders up to my ears, wishing I could be like a turtle and duck my head inside a shell.
I didn’t have a solution. I didn’t know anything about Turan politics.
So I kept my mouth shut.
“That’s what I thought,” he muttered, turning to adjust the stirrup.
“I want to make a difference,” I said. “I want to do what’s right. I want to help.”
The Guardian stilled but didn’t turn. “Get on the horse, Cross.”
I shifted closer to the stallion, hiking up my skirts in an attempt to put my foot in the stirrup. But the animal was too tall, and I was too short. I couldn’t reach.
The Guardian let out a frustrated growl, picked me up by the waist, and plopped me onto the saddle.
“Thanks?” I adjusted my skirts, wishing I had another pair of pants. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“What horse will you ride?”
“Mine.”
Oh, hell.
He flicked the hems of my skirts. “Move these out of my way.”
I balled them up as best I could, the fabric bunching on my lap. Then he swung into the saddle behind me, his thighs hugging my own. His chest pressed against my back as he took up the reins, his arms locking me in place.
Without delay, the horse started down the street.
The movement forced me deeper into the Guardian’s hold. The heat from his body, the scents of leather and spice and wind, were inescapable. Damn how I wished I hated that smell.
This ride would be agony. Absolute torture.
Maybe that was the idea.
“Relax,” he ordered.
Relaxing meant I’d have to lean against him. Sink into that broad chest. Melt against his frame. Not. A. Chance.
“I am relaxed.”
“Sure you are.” His voice was too close to my ear.
A shiver rolled down my spine.
And without a doubt, he felt it.
Another day, he probably would have teased me for the reaction. Another day, he would have reveled in the way I squirmed. But today was not a day for jokes. Not as we passed the burial grounds outside of town.
I took a long look at the tree where we’d laid Sariah to rest, then cast my gaze to the sky, to the twin moons’ faint outline. Even battling the sun, they shone white.
The color of Arabella’s shade.
I hoped that Sariah’s soul, that all those from Ashmore, had come to rest with the Goddess of Love.
There were those in Calandra who didn’t worship the gods. They didn’t believe in the Six or their shades. They believed our bodies returned to the earth as dust. That we simply ceased.
Then there were those who believed our souls were reborn, that for every life lost, another was created. That somewhere in this realm, Sariah’s soul was breathing anew.
“Do you believe in the gods?” I asked the Guardian.
“Why do you ask?”
“No man should have survived that fight yesterday. You have powers unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I guess I wanted to know if you believe the gods gave them to you as gifts.”
His laugh was low. Menacing. A rumble from his body that vibrated against mine. “What you call gifts, I call a curse. Yes, I believe in the gods. I believe they watch us from their precious shades. And I believe they’re vindictive, manipulative bastards intent on tormenting us from their thrones.”
Never in my life had I heard a person speak of the gods with such hate. Such malice. I wasn’t sure what to say to that. It felt like we were inviting trouble, taunting them so.
“Any other questions this morning, Sparrow?”
I shook my head.
We passed the edge of town and set out on the road that would lead us to Treow. A day. That was all I had to endure. Just one day.
Except with a tug of the reins, he steered the horse off the road. He turned us away from the forest and toward a range of mountains, its peaks jagged and capped in white. Beneath them looked to be a river valley.
“We’re not going to Treow, are we?”
“No.”
“Where are we going?”
“Ellder.”
“Why?” What about my things? What about Brielle and Jocelyn?
“Will you always ask so many questions, Cross?”
“Yes.”
He sighed. “Zavier.”
My stomach twisted. My husband was in Ellder. And I was being returned to my keeper.
“All right.” I sat tall and rigid, attempting to maintain a fraction of space between our bodies. I didn’t let the sinking feeling in my chest weigh me down.
This was for the best. I should be with Zavier. We needed more quiet walks, time to be alone. I wasn’t certain, but I had the feeling that the Guardian wouldn’t stay at the fortress. Not once I’d been locked behind its walls, no longer needing his protection. Which meant after this ride, he’d likely disappear.
Good. I needed him to disappear. To go away for weeks, months, and give me time to put my head, my heart, back into place. To banish him from my mind.
We argued constantly. He was a thorn in my side. The sooner he was gone, the better.
The horse’s hooves were the only sound as we rode across the landscape. We flowed up and down the hills that surrounded Ashmore, until the town itself was nothing but a memory. My restless night caught up to me by midday, and every few minutes, I covered a yawn.
“You should rest.” It was the first thing the Guardian had spoken in hours.
“I’m fine,” I lied, righting my shoulders from where they’d slumped.
“Sure you are.”
I concentrated on the foothills in the distance, forcing my eyes open as the trees slowly grew taller and taller against their mountain backdrop. Every few moments, I’d look left, then right, searching for any monsters that might come out of hiding and attack.
“The pack from yesterday. Is that the normal size?” I asked.
“No. It was larger. Usually bariwolves travel in packs of three or four.”
Gods. That pack had been more than double. Was it their number that had made them fearless enough to strike a town?
Those people in Ashmore were lucky to have had the Guardian around. To rid this area of that pack. But I had a feeling if I told him that, he’d only scoff.
I might blame myself for Sariah, but he blamed himself for all seventeen deaths.
The hours dragged on, and the heaviness in my eyelids became impossible to fight. Until the battle was futile.
Until somewhere in Turah, curled against the wrong man, I drifted off to sleep.
Thirty-Two
Odessa.
The sound of my father’s voice startled me from a nightmare.
I’d been in the throne room, on my knees. Mae’s knife at my neck.
He’d ordered her to kill me. My punishment for returning to Roslo with no information about Allesaria. Beside me on the marble floor, blood seeping from their open throats, were Brielle and Jocelyn.
I shook the mental image away, blinking clear the fog of sleep as I took in my surroundings.
The early light of dawn colored the sky. I’d slept all night against the Guardian’s chest.
He’d stopped us atop a steep rise. He sat motionless behind me, his horse unmoving beneath.
There was a cliff beside us, its jagged rocks dropping to a raging river. The water crashed as it traveled, and for a moment, I closed my eyes and just let myself listen. I pretended that noise was ocean waves and I was on my cliffside in Roslo.
Something stirred in my chest as I took in the view. A sense of wonder. Peace.
It might not be my special place, but there was so much beauty here it was hard to comprehend it all.
On the other side of the river was an endless forest, thick and green. It filled the space between us and the looming indigo mountains with their pristine, snowcapped peaks. The colors were so vibrant, it was like stepping into a dream.
“When I was a boy, my mother brought me here for the first time. She made me sit beside her for an hour, even though all I wanted to do was chase around and hunt for berries. At the time, it felt like a punishment. Now, I see what she was trying to do. It was one of those lessons I couldn’t appreciate until I got older.”
He’d only mentioned his mother once before. What about his father? Did he have siblings?
It was an odd feeling to know this man yet know nothing about him.
I knew his expressions. I knew the way he moved. I knew how the air charged when he was angry and the realm blurred when he was close.
He was fiercely loyal to his people. He loved his kingdom. He was strong and unbreakable, but gentleness could emerge from that hard exterior. In the way he hugged Cathlin. How he acted with Evangeline. Even the affection he showed his horse.
But I didn’t know if his mother was alive. I didn’t know about his family or his education or his childhood home. I didn’t know if he’d been born with these powers, these gifts. Or if he’d been cursed by a spiteful god.
It bothered me, more than it should, that at best, I could only consider him an acquaintance.
The Guardian stared into the distance, his eyes a different shade of green. This was a new color. Not the vivid emerald I’d seen countless times when he was in a mood to tease me mercilessly. No, this was a deep shade of hunter.
The color of Turan forests.
“It’s beautiful.” The forest. Those eyes.
He dropped his gaze, meeting mine.
I was still cradled against him, having shifted in my sleep toward the arm he’d curled around my shoulders. I should move. Sit straight. Get off this horse and put some distance between us.
But the truth I was terrified to admit, even to myself, was that I didn’t want to move.
Unless he tossed me out of this saddle, I was going nowhere.
His expression was open and unguarded. Utterly consuming. More magnificent than even this Turan scene. He searched my eyes the way I searched his. For answers. Salvation. Mercy.
There was a tether between us.
Gods save us when it snapped.
Why couldn’t I feel this way for the man who’d claimed me?
Our mouths were too close. All it would take was a shift and we’d collide. We’d crash into each other, and the shock waves would destroy us both.
I needed him to say something mean. To strike a nerve. To bruise my heart. I needed him to hurt me so thoroughly, I’d never forgive him.
“I hate you.”
It should have broken the moment. It should have pissed him off. But he stared at me like I was something to behold. Something to cherish.
Something to protect.
“Yes, you do,” he said. “Don’t forget.”
“Never.”
There was no such thing as forgetting a man like the Guardian. Not for me.
Still, once we reached Ellder, I would try.
“We must go.”
I nodded, sitting tall. Then I took one last look beyond the cliff. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
“You’re welcome, my queen.”
We didn’t speak for the rest of the long journey, not even as we ate dried fruit and nuts and meat, sharing water from a canteen.
The trail through the forest was thick. Rain from a recent storm clung to the branches, and whenever a limb skimmed my dress, water would soak into the material. Night was falling, and beneath the trees, it was becoming difficult to see the narrow path ahead. A howl rang out from somewhere in the woods, making me tense.
The Guardian didn’t so much as flinch.
By the time we reached the fortress, I was wet and cold. Part of me was glad to be here. To get off this horse. The other part wasn’t ready for this ride to be over.
Torches mounted on the fortress’s walls burned bright against the dark. The walls stood as tall as the surrounding trees, rising so high that no monster could scale their face. There were hundreds and hundreds of logs, each stripped of their bark to form a smooth barricade. It stretched so far I couldn’t see where either side ended in the darkness.
The Guardian stopped his horse outside the gates and fitted two fingers to his lips, letting out a piercing whistle, different from those I’d heard in Treow.
“Open the gates!” a man shouted from the ramparts above.
The hinges groaned as the men hauled the heavy wood open, swinging like double doors for us to ride inside. As soon as we were beyond the threshold, the soldiers closed us in.
The courtyard was alight with fires, burning hot in small basins.
Men dressed in grizzur leather, similar to the Guardian, all nodded and dipped their heads as we came to a stop. Whispers filled the air as he dismounted.
That’s the Guardian.
He’s here.
The Guardian. The Guardian. The Guardian.
Did he not come to Ellder often? The wide eyes and open stares answered my question.
A young boy ran up to him, taking the horse’s reins.
“See that he gets plenty of water and food,” the Guardian said. “He doesn’t like sharing a stall with other horses.”
“I’ll put him in his own, sir.”
“Good.” He clapped the boy on the shoulder, then came to my side, holding out a hand to help me down.
I tried to slide out of the saddle gracefully, but after yesterday’s fall and a day spent riding, my legs didn’t cooperate. I crashed into his chest as I tipped off the side.
He caught me at the waist and set me down, holding on for a moment until I was steady. Then, while he unlatched his saddlebags, I smoothed down my skirts and adjusted the strap on my satchel, busying my hands as the people around us continued to stare and whisper.
Who is she?
Do you know her?
Who’s that riding with the Guardian?
He flung his saddlebags over a shoulder, then clamped a hand over my wrist, pulling me along as he walked out of the courtyard and toward a road that seemed to split the town inside the walls in half.
Streets were organized much like Ashmore, in straight lines and orderly rows. Except there were holes down the center of every lane, holes as wide as my waist that looked to be as deep as I was tall.
“What are those?” I asked.
“For the migration. We put wooden spikes in each, crowding the streets so it’s difficult for a crux to land. Once they’re dug, workers will start on the spikes. They’ll be buried as deep as they are tall, just like the exterior walls.”
“Ah.” Another deterrent for the monsters. Another way the Turans protected themselves.
The buildings all had wooden roofs, but there were some with metal spikes that stuck up at all angles, likely other measures to protect against the crux. Golden light spilled from windows, but we moved so quickly I didn’t have a chance to see inside.
