Shield of Sparrows

When the knock came the next morning, I glared at the door, hoping it would make its way through the wood to whoever stood on the other side.

The only person I wanted to see was Evie, but it was too early for her to be awake. Besides, she didn’t know how to knock only once.

If it was Ransom, he could fuck off.

If it was Zavier, he could rot for participating in Ransom’s charade.

And if it was Jocelyn, well…

I hadn’t figured out what to say to her yet. Did she know Zavier’s real identity? Did she know he wasn’t my husband? Or did she believe we were married?

Either he’d confessed a truth to her he hadn’t trusted with me.

Or she’d fucked my husband.

They’d made me a fool. All of them. It was going to take more than one sleepless night for my wounded pride to heal.

I’d spent last night in this chair, staring into the darkness of my sitting room. Replaying every moment from the past two months. Running through a gauntlet of emotions. Anger. Humiliation. Sorrow. Relief. So much of that infuriating relief.

I’d expected—hoped—to greet dawn feeling numb and exhausted. To crawl into bed and sleep for the foreseeable future. Instead, I was nursing a festering rage. Shades, I was mad. Really. Fucking. Mad.

The knock came again, twice as loud as the last. “Highness?”

Jocelyn.

Part of me wanted to ignore her. To let them all suffer in my silence. But the other part knew there’d be no avoiding her forever. I’d have to face them all eventually. And I might as well start with her. So I climbed out of my chair, my legs stiff, and crossed the room.

Her hand was raised for another knock when I pulled the door open. Her cheeks were splotchy, her eyes red-rimmed.

I shifted to the side and waved her in.

“I’m sorry, Highness.” Jocelyn’s hands were clasped behind her back. Her head was bowed. “I don’t have an excuse. I’m sorry. Whatever punishment you deem fit, I will deserve.”

A punishment? Jocelyn was too used to Mae’s tantrums. Unless a nasty scowl counted, a punishment hadn’t even crossed my mind.

“I’m not going to punish you.” I returned to my chair, sweeping a hand toward the other in the sitting room. “Sit down.”

The order came out with a bite. A Margot-style bite.

Yes, I was angry. I would be for a while. She’d lied to me. They’d all lied. Every time I thought about how I’d been duped, I squirmed. But I refused to let this give me my stepmother’s jagged edges.

She walked over, sitting stiff as a board, eyes still downcast.

“I’m mad,” I told her. “I’m hurt. I’m embarrassed.”

“I’m sor—”

“Sorry.” I held up a hand. “Let’s move past the apologies. Starting with the truth. How long has this been going on?”

“A while.” She kept her gaze on the floor, her hands clasped in her lap. “I met Vander in Treow. We started first, whenever he was in the encampment. He asked if Zavier could, um…join us.”

Did Zavier speak to her? Had he revealed that part of himself to her?

“I’m sorry.” Jocelyn shook her head, eyes flooding with tears. “He is your husband.”

Well, at the very least, it was nice to know I wasn’t the only person who’d been tricked by this sham. “Do you have feelings for him? Them?”

“It’s not like that.” She sniffled. “It’s only sex. It’s an escape. A way to feel something other than sad.”

My heart pinched.

I hadn’t realized she was sad. Brielle was the one who seemed most homesick and lonely. Brielle was the one who seemed to be slipping further and further from the person she’d been in Quentis.

Jocelyn had been so stoic, steady, since we’d arrived, but maybe that was just a mask. A brave face.

We’d been here for months, and for the majority of that time, Jocelyn and I had been apart. While I’d been exploring, consumed with Turah and Lyssa and Ransom, she’d been alone, missing her life.

“What do you want, Jocelyn?”

“To serve you, Highness. To earn your forgiveness.”

I scoffed. “That’s the most practiced line I’ve heard in weeks. Try again.”

She chewed on her lower lip. “I want to go home.”

Home. I envied that she knew exactly where home was. “All right. I’ll see what I can do.”

Her face lifted, her eyes swimming. “Really?”

“No promises. If there was an excuse to send you away, this is it.” Everyone could think I was devastated by her affair with Zavier and Vander. They could see this as her punishment. “But I’ll need you to do something for me. I need you to deliver a message to my father.”

“Of course. I’ll take whatever you need.”

There would be nothing for her to take. This was a message she’d have to deliver in person. “My father asked me for information on Turah. Has Brielle told you anything about that?”

“No.” She shook her head. “What information?”

“He was hoping I could discover the way into Allesaria.”

She glanced to the door, checking that we were alone. “And have you?”

“No. And it’s unlikely that I will. It’s forbidden for people to include it on any maps. And Zavier has no intention of taking me there. Certainly not before the migration.” I swallowed hard. “You must tell my father that I’ve failed. The Turans suspect he’s trying to find their city. And the last person they’ll ever trust with that information is me. Please tell him I’m sorry.”

I wasn’t sorry. Not even a bit. But even I thought this message sounded believable.

Jocelyn would report to Father that I’d failed. She’d likely tell him about her liaison with Zavier. Shades, maybe he’d put her up to it from the beginning. He’d be angry. He’d be irked that I’d sent her home with nothing useful. But would he be surprised? Not in the least.

I was always going to fail him.

But this failure was my choice.

Jocelyn didn’t need to know about Lyssa. She didn’t need to know that Zavier’s identity was a ploy. She didn’t need to know that the road to Allesaria was likely etched into a leather cuff around Ransom’s arm.

The message she delivered would be of my choosing.

“I believe the Turans are more cunning a foe than we’ve ever considered,” I said. “Tell my father to be cautious. They’re amassing a militia. Probably to defend against the migration, but he must consider this in whatever he is planning. I don’t know where King Ramsey is training these soldiers, but the barracks in Ellder are full. And it seems that both Zavier and the Guardian consider this their home.”

Lies and truths, woven together, in the hopes Jocelyn wouldn’t just believe my story, but that she’d sell it to Father, too.

“All right.” She nodded. “Should I tell him about Treow? About the day the king came and his soldiers burned those books?”

“You can tell him anything he desires. I have no secrets from my father.” The lie slipped off my tongue without a hitch. I almost patted myself on the back.

“Highness, do you think I should stay? In case you learn more? So that I can tell your father something. Anything is better than nothing.”

Was she really worried for me? Or was she scared to be the messenger?

“By the time you return to Roslo, we’ll be close to the autumnal equinox. Winter won’t be long to follow. I’d rather send this message than none at all. Besides”—I gave her a pointed stare—“you’re my husband’s lover. I cannot allow you to stay.”

She gulped.

“Go home, Jocelyn. Hug your mother.”

Her eyes drifted to the floor again as she stood. “I’m sorry. I have let you down.”

I’d hoped that maybe Jocelyn and Brielle would become my friends. But then she’d fucked Zavier.

We weren’t friends.

“Goodbye, Jocelyn.”noveldrama

She curtsied and made her way to the door, slipping outside and leaving me alone.

I steepled my fingers at my chin, staring at her empty chair.

Would Father believe her message? Did it matter?

I was here to uncover Turah’s secrets. That hadn’t changed. But instead of acting for my father, I was doing this for myself. For my freedom.

And what better person to help me in that endeavor.

Than my husband.