Shield of Sparrows

Samuel’s parents were Quentin traders. They were some of the very few who braved the Evon Ravine to deliver goods to Genesis by wagon.

His beloved wife, Emsley, had been the daughter of their family’s biggest rival.

Samuel and Emsley met as children. Fell in love as teenagers. And when they left Quentis together, her pregnant with Jonas, it caused quite the uproar between their families, as both had been expected to take over as merchants.

Instead, they’d spent years exploring Calandra. Her dream had been to see every corner of the continent, so he’d traveled at her side, selling stories to papermen for coin to fund their journey.

Jonas was eleven when they returned to Quentis to care for Emsley’s ailing mother. A year later, Emsley had been murdered in Roslo. And another hard, miserable year after that had inspired Samuel to write his book.

About my people.

His, too.

After Ransom left, Samuel had invited me in to sit for tea. Both of our cups had grown cold as he’d told me the story of his wife. Of how they met.

Of how she died.

And of why he’d written that book after her death.

“I regret it,” he told me. “If I could go back, I’d toss that book into the Marixmore and forget it ever existed.”

“Why did you write it?”

“I was angry. Lost in grief. Bitter at how hard life was in the city. Foolish enough to think that coin would solve our problems.”

“You called us traitors and thieves. You accused my father of murdering my mother.”

His gaze slammed to the floor. “I’m sorry. I exploited a rumor from a drunk nobleman without proof. I embellished because I knew it would sell.”

“Did it?”

“Enough to buy us passage across the Krisenth. To bring Jonas here, where the children at school don’t taunt him for his father’s mistakes. Enough to build this house. To buy a used Turan press. To give me the chance to be a better man.”

A part of me wanted to know more about that rumor from a drunken nobleman. To find out exactly why someone thought my father capable of killing my mother. The other part of me knew I wasn’t ready for that story, so I changed the subject.

“The blacksmith said you’ve been writing about the king’s militia.”

Samuel straightened, shock that we were on to a different topic flashing across his face for a moment. “Y-yes.”noveldrama

“You’re suspicious?”

“Quite.” He took a sip of his cold tea, cradling the cup in his hand. “From what I’ve heard visiting with families, not a single soldier who’s gone to join this militia has written home. They enlist and all but disappear. Don’t you find that strange?”

I shrugged. “I guess. But maybe the training regimen is different for Turan soldiers than it is in Quentis.”

For soldiers in Quentis, living in barracks was optional. Most stayed with their families unless they had no home to begin with.

“I thought the same, but I’ve spent months talking to men who served the king in their youth. They all find it strange how letters go unanswered and visits home are never made.”

I hummed. “It is odd. Do these men all go to Allesaria?”

“Possibly. I’m not sure.”

“Have you been to the capital?” I picked up my own tea, hoping to mask the hint of desperation in my voice.

“No.”

Damn it.

Samuel exhaled a long breath, sinking deeper into his chair. “You know, I thought that maybe the mystery surrounding Allesaria was all an exaggeration. That once I arrived here, I’d learn it wasn’t Calandra’s best-kept secret.”

“It’s no exaggeration, is it?”

He shook his head. “No. The paperman in me wants to dig and find the truth. To expose the reason for why the Turans would keep the location of their capital a secret. But the father in me has decided to let it go. I won’t risk Jonas. I’m all he’s got. We’re safe here, despite the incident with the lionwick. My son is happy. That’s really all that matters.”

“Understandable.” I gave him a small smile. “I can’t quite wrap my head around the mystery of Allesaria, either. Part of me isn’t even sure the city exists.”

Samuel barked a laugh. “I actually wondered that myself. But there is a woman in Ravalli who has been there. According to her, the road is treacherous. It is guarded by a stone wall, and the only way to be granted entrance through the gates is by blood oath.”

I blinked. “A blood oath to enter a city?”

“To keep its location a secret.”

Okay, now I was even more interested. That was beyond extreme. What the hell was happening in Allesaria to keep it so secret?

“Now my curiosity is piqued,” I told him.

“Be careful of that curiosity.” He lowered his voice, like even within his walls we were risking this conversation. “It has not been easy to find my place in Ravalli. The Turans are incredibly distrustful of outsiders. Even as the Sparrow, they won’t welcome you with open arms.”

A few people had made me feel welcome. Tillia. Evie. Luella and Cathlin. But I understood what he was saying. For the most part, the people of Turah avoided me.

“I wasn’t even supposed to be the Sparrow.”

“It was to be your sister, right?”

“Mae.” I nodded. “This was very unexpected. And sudden. I don’t know much about Turah. I’ve never even seen a map.”

Samuel set his cup aside and leaned in closer. “Maps are forbidden. If you’re found with one, it is punishable by death.”

“Death? Over a map?” Well, fuck. No wonder I’d had such a hard time finding a map. A map likely didn’t exist.

“Like I said, Princess. Be careful.”

A shiver rolled down my spine. “I just don’t understand. A capital is home to a kingdom’s leaders. The place for diplomacy. To establish governance. A center for trade and commerce. A place to celebrate culture and preserve history. Why keep Allesaria a secret? What happened three generations ago that made the Turan rulers withdraw so severely?”

“That, I do not know,” he said. “For all intents and purposes, Perris serves as the capital. It is the Turan center for trade and commerce. The king makes his decrees there, and they are disseminated across the kingdom.”

“By pony riders?”

Samuel nodded. “In part. Also by the Turan army. Each town has its own governance system, but it all rolls up to the king. The soldiers stationed in Ravalli ensure peace and compliance. Any resistance is met with a heavy hand. At least that’s how it was before the soldiers left.”

They’d been pulled away. Just like they had been in Ashmore. The king had left these people to fend for themselves against monsters. Against Lyssa.

“From what I have gathered, the wealth of this kingdom’s knowledge lives behind Allesaria’s walls. And they do not share. It’s not like healers in Laine who make discoveries and force other kingdoms to pay for their knowledge and resources.”

“The Turans keep it to themselves,” I guessed.

“They keep it in Allesaria. I’ve heard more than a few bitter comments in the tavern about how those who live in the wilds are treated as less than the Turans in the city. That their scholars and alchemists and healers look down upon those who choose to mill lumber. Ironically, the industry that actually funds this kingdom.”

Scholars. Alchemists. Those with the knowledge and skill to create a deadly infection.

Allesaria, apparently, did exist. I could toss out the idea that the capital city was a myth. A ruse. And the only way I’d see that city was with a guide and another blood oath.

Would Ransom take me there if I told him I suspected that Lyssa had been created within the city’s walls? That it might have been crafted beneath Ramsey’s nose?

Hell, maybe Ramsey had sanctioned its creation himself. Maybe that was why he’d refused to tell people about the infection.

That thought made my heart climb into my throat. Was that what Father wanted in Allesaria? Was Lyssa the secret to saving our people from the crux? Was Ramsey going to use it to save the Turans? But if he’d found a way to protect his people during the migration, wouldn’t Turah have more Guardians already?

The front door opened, and Ransom walked inside. His ears must have been burning. He spotted Jonas still on the floor with Faze. And me sitting beside Samuel.

“Thank you for the tea.” I set my cup aside, then stood, making my way toward the front of the room. I stole Faze from Jonas’s arms and tucked him back into his carrier.

With a farewell to them both, I followed Ransom outside and along the roads to the inn. “The lionwick?”

“Lyssa.”

“Did you learn anything else?”

“There was an attack in the mountains weeks ago by a grizzur. Two hunters. Both dead. A pack of bariwolves killed a merchant and his daughter. There’s no way of knowing if any of the monsters were infected or not. But there have been more attacks in these parts. It’s set everyone on edge.”

“It means you might be getting closer to the source. What if…” I trailed off, knowing as soon as I finished that sentence, he was going to close up. I could already feel it. But I had to get it out there. I had to ask. “Samuel mentioned that most of Turah’s alchemists and scholars live in Allesaria. What if someone in the capital is the source?”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “No one in Allesaria created Lyssa.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do.”

“But—”

“You know nothing about the city, Cross.” The bite in his voice was a sting. “Don’t bring it up again.”

Gods, these Turans were stubborn. This Turan in particular.

The rest of the walk to the inn was in silence. The common room that had been empty earlier was now teeming with patrons, some drinking ale, others inhaling plates of food.

As Ransom walked through the room with me trailing behind, conversation and laughter dimmed to murmurs and whispers. About him. About me.

Word of my identity had already spread like wildfire. Was that why it was so crowded here tonight? Why the barkeep was smiling wide?

Our visit meant every table in his establishment was full.

We didn’t linger around the others, instead moving down a narrow hallway with six doors in total. My key fit the last door on the right, Ransom’s across the hall on the left.

“We’ll leave for the outpost tomorrow. Be ready by dawn. The barkeep knows to bring you dinner.”

“All right.”

Ransom paused, one hand on his door. “Ramsey is rumored to be on his way here tomorrow.”

“Oh.” I blinked. Was that the reason for his sour mood? Or was it because I’d brought up Allesaria? Or both?

“We will not be here when he arrives,” Ransom said.

“All right. Do you have a problem with Ramsey?”

“Something like that.” He glanced over his shoulder, eyes meeting mine.

I expected him to disappear into his room, but he paused, staring at me like there was something important on his mind. Something he needed to say.

“What?” I whispered. Tell me. Just tell me.

He shook his head. “Nothing. Good night, my queen.”

Blarg. “Good night, Ransom.”

His eyes went from green to hazel in a blink. He walked into his room and slammed the door. The lock flipped.

Did he regret telling me his name?

Well, too bad. I liked saying it.