Shield of Sparrows

Evie poked her finger into my arm. “Are you listening to me, Dess?”

“I’m sorry.” I shook myself out of my thoughts. “What did you say?”

“I asked if there was something wrong with your lips. You keep touching them.”

My hand dropped away from my mouth like it was a hot stone. “Oh. I’m, uh…thirsty.”

She cast a sideways glance to the canteen of water on the grass at my side.

I picked it up, twisting off the lid for a drink as she returned her attention to feeding Faze.

Shades, I was a mess, and it was all Ransom’s fault.

A week had passed since he kissed me in the training square, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About him.

It was the best kiss of my life. I could still feel the heat of his lips, taste him on my tongue.

Damn him. He’d ruined me. Entirely. I hoped that wherever he was at the moment, he was miserable, too.

“Dess?” Evie asked as she stroked one of Faze’s ears.

“Evie?”

“Will we really have to let him go?”

“Yes, little star.” I ran a hand over her dark hair. “Someday.”

Our tarkin was curled in her lap, drinking a bottle of milk as we sat in the center of the yard at Zavier’s. Or Ransom’s. Who actually owned this house? The prince? Or the pretender?

Who actually had the claim to Evie? Was she Zavier’s daughter? Or was that a lie, too?

A week was a long time to go without answers to important questions. Every day, I added more and more to my ever-growing list.

Maybe that was why Ransom had left. To avoid my questions.

That, or he’d known I needed time and space.

He’d left Ellder with Zavier and a band of rangers the same day I sent Jocelyn home.

That very afternoon, she’d been given a seat on a wagon bound for Perris. She should be sailing over the Krisenth Crossing by now. In another week, she’d likely be in Roslo.

Would Father believe her report? He’d probably corroborate it with whatever other spies he’d sent to Turah over the years. Were there any in Ellder? Had I passed one of Father’s men in the streets without even knowing?

“Evangeline,” Luella called from the doorway of the house. “Time for lunch.”

Evie scrunched up her nose. “Lunch, then lessons.”

“It’s important you know how to read,” I said, stealing Faze from her lap.

He yawned, white fangs flashing, as I settled him into the curve of my arm. He was getting heavier and heavier, already the size of a fat house cat. Soon, I wouldn’t be able to carry him around. Soon, we’d have to set him free. Soon, it would be just another goodbye.

Evie pushed to her feet, brushing off the seat of her pants as she gave Luella a dramatic pout.

The older woman pulled in her lips to hide a smile.

“I’ll see you at dinner,” I told Evie as I stood. Then, with a gentle nudge, I sent her toward her tutor.

After a quick stop in my suite to leave Faze napping on a chair, I collected my satchel and made my way into the streets of Ellder.

Men stopped walking to bow as I passed. A cluster of women ceased talking, each dropping to a curtsy. A boy and a girl chasing each other outside the bakery both froze, eyes wide as they whispered, “The princess.”

As I’d feared, I would never again be just another face in the crowd behind the fortress’s walls. The attention meant I’d stayed in my suite more often than not this past week. But today, it was time to pay a friend a visit.

The house where Ransom had taken Samuel and Jonas Hay was in a row of identical narrow homes. The buildings had two levels and were stacked side by side. In a way, they reminded me of the falconry mews in Roslo, where the falconers would cram as many bird cages into a space as possible. The homes were fitted with metal spears on their roofs, a defense for the migration.

Samuel’s neighbor had a pot of mums with burgundy blooms beside their front door. The rich color complemented the leaves from nearby trees. Autumn was sweeping across Turah, and greens were giving way to golds and russet reds. I needed a blanket on my lap for breakfasts on my balcony. When I returned from my early morning jogs around the fortress or after riding for an hour with Freya, I’d have cool cheeks and pink ears.

I knocked on Samuel’s door, straightening the hem of my sweater as I waited.

He answered with a scowl that shifted to a smile when he saw my face. “Odessa. Welcome. Please, come in.”

“How are you?” I asked as I stepped inside.

He shrugged. “Lonely. Bored.”

“Ah. Jonas started school today?”

“I taught him at home when we were in Ravalli. I know it’s best that he make friends, but…I miss him.”

“Have you given any thought as to what you’ll do?” I asked, following him past the front room to the galley kitchen, then taking a chair at his small dining table.

“Wait, I think.” He sank into the chair across from mine, drumming his fingers on the table’s wooden surface. “Wait until the spring. Then we’ll go home to Quentis.”

“To the land of traitors and liars?” I teased.

“You’ll hold that against me forever, won’t you?”

“That’s my plan.”

He laughed, relaxing into his seat. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“Well, I mostly wanted to see how you were doing. But I also have a task, if you’re interested.”

Samuel sat up straighter. “What task?”

A task that, by rights, I should keep to myself. But a task I wouldn’t be able to finish on my own. At least not with any accuracy.

So I took a deep breath, swallowing the doubts, and opened my satchel. “I’m making a map of Turah.”noveldrama

His eyes widened. “Princess.”

“I know.” I chewed on my lower lip. “Remember when you told me the paperman in you wanted to dig into Allesaria? I have that same inkling. And I can’t let it go. If I’m to be the queen, then I need to know what’s going on in this kingdom.”

I wasn’t doing this for Father. I was doing this for me.

“Odessa.” Samuel lowered his voice. “If you are caught…”

“I have no intention of getting caught.” I pulled the map from my bag, unfolding it until it was spread across the table. “I know that I’m asking you to put yourself at risk. Please know that if there was anyone else I could ask for help, I would. But you’re a Quentin. None of the Turans trust me.”

Not even their crown prince.

“I’ll understand if you refuse. I will not hold it against you. But I’m no mapmaker, and I’ve only been here for a short time. I’m certain there are many errors and many omissions. I’d like your help filling in the blanks.”

I’d spent the past week drafting this version from my journal’s drawings. It was only temporary. When it was finished, I’d make the adjustments to my journal and burn this copy.

Samuel studied it intently, warily, his eyes following the roads I’d drawn to the towns I’d sketched.

My journal’s pages included markings for monsters with Lyssa. This copy did not. But even though they were missing, I could see them on the paper like invisible blinking lights.

“What is this road?” Samuel’s finger traced a winding line that snaked into the mountains at the top of the map.

It was a guess. All I could do was guess. But somewhere in the mountains was a hidden city.

And that line, an unknown road to Allesaria, that would likely get me killed or exiled.

I stayed quiet, watching as Samuel put that together for himself.

He looked up from the map. “What are you doing, Princess?”

“Finding the truth.”

“And what will you do with this truth?”

“Set myself free.” I was at the mercy of secrets. Until I discovered the truth, I’d always be trapped. By Father. By Ransom.

I was tired of being a Sparrow in a cage.

“It is forbidden,” Samuel warned.

“I know. There is something going on in Allesaria. Something that isn’t right. You suspect it, too.” I was counting on Samuel’s hatred of Ramsey to buy me his allegiance. His silence.

“Ramsey’s militia,” he murmured.

Among other things.

I had no proof that Lyssa had originated in Allesaria. But I wanted to investigate. I wanted the means to find out if my hunch was true. The way to do that was to get into Allesaria. Even if that meant taking another blood oath.

The source had to be the priority. Ransom and Zavier could kill all the monsters in the realm, but if they didn’t stop the infection at its source, it would never end.

Samuel stared at the paper, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “I have never been to Allesaria. I cannot help with that portion of the map.”

“That’s all right.” If he could help me plot the bulk of Turah, that was at least a start. And if I could find a chance to study Ransom’s cuff, if it was indeed a map, then maybe it would complete the puzzle. “I’ll take anything you can give me.”

He sighed, turning to stare at the wall for a few agonizing heartbeats.

I wouldn’t blame him if he refused. Not in the slightest. But it would sting.

If I couldn’t find loyalty with my own countrymen, then what was left? I truly would be on my own.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said, refolding the map. When it was in a neat square, he took it to a cupboard and put it on the top shelf. Out of Jonas’s reach.

“Thank you.” My exhale was audible as I stood from the chair, then pushed it into the table.

He escorted me to the door, waving goodbye as I left.

I was on my way back to my suite when a commotion in the courtyard lured me in the opposite direction. A cheer filled the air, followed by the sound of male laughter.

Others rushed past me, anxious to see what the excitement was about.

I quickened my steps, falling into the rush. Except the moment I stepped into the courtyard, I came to a quick stop as a prickling sensation raked over my skin.

The High Priest stood before a group of smiling children. Their faces were lit with awe and wonder as they watched him spin a string of leaves into the air, sending it swirling higher and higher.

The children clapped and giggled as he collected more and more. Enough to separate the spiral into tiny wreaths, enough to fit on each of their heads.

Parents smiled on as their children laughed.

A young girl with black ringlets ran past me into the fray, pushing her way to the front, where she tugged on the priest’s robe and pointed to her head, wanting her own wreath. How could anyone stand to be that close? To touch him? Did his magic not affect children the same way?

The creeping, crawling sensation worsened as his magic swelled, more leaves flying.

The priest looked up from the children, fathomless eyes finding mine, as if he’d known the exact moment when I’d stepped into the courtyard.

I spun around to leave, only to smack face-first into a wall.

No, not a wall. A man who smelled of spice and earth. Leather and wind.

Ransom.

“Easy.” Strong arms closed around me, keeping me from falling on my ass.

I shimmied out of his hold, not trusting myself to be so close, considering what had happened the last time I’d been in those arms.

His hair was damp, and his clothes were clean. His beard had returned, but his sword was missing. There was a gray pallor to his skin, a dullness in his hazel eyes. He looked tired and sick, ready to collapse and sleep for days.

“You’re back,” I said.

“Miss me, my queen?”

Yes. “Not in the slightest. What is he doing here?” I hooked a thumb over my shoulder at the Voster.

“Entertaining the children. And keeping me alive. For now.”

“He siphoned Lyssa from your blood today, didn’t he?”

“That he did.” Ransom nodded. “I’m a bit tired. So, if it’s all the same to you, let’s save the sparring for another time.”

“Of course.” I moved to the side, about to walk away when his hand caught mine.

Rough calluses caressed my palm. He laced our fingers together, threading them so quickly it was as if he’d done it a thousand times before. “Walk with me? It helps afterward. To clear the fog.”

“All right.” He didn’t fight me as I pulled my fingers loose, clasping both hands in front of me as we set off away from the courtyard.

“Ready when you are.”

“Ready for what?”

“Whatever questions are shaking around in that beautiful head of yours.”

I almost laughed. Almost. “Where do you stay when you’re in Ellder?”

“The rooms beneath yours.”

And now I wouldn’t sleep a wink. I’d be too consumed thinking about him beneath my floor. “Are you sure you don’t want to rest?”

“I’m certain.”

We fell into step beside each other, our pace as gentle and easy as the fall breeze.

“Have you spoken to any healers about Lyssa?” I asked.

“I saw a healer after I was bitten. He told me I was lucky to be alive and that I should praise the gods. When I started noticing changes, I went to him again. He told me it would pass. He didn’t want to admit he had no idea what was happening to me. He was the best healer in Turah. If he didn’t know what to do, then none of them would. I went to the High Priest after that.”

“And that’s when he started pulling it from your blood?”

“Not immediately. It took him nearly a year to attune his magic to the infection.”

“Attune?”

“That’s his word, not mine. He told me that when the Voster are young, their magic must learn. He can command wind and water because he’s taught his magic how to manipulate fluids. He’s learned to use blood in bonds. It took a year for his magic to learn Lyssa. Since, he uses what he takes to try to identify its elements. And enough so that it won’t consume me whole. He’s prolonging the inevitable.”

“Why can’t he just take it all?”

“It’s bound to me. It has become a part of my very being. To take it all would be the end.”

“Bound to you. Like blood magic.”

“Yes.”

When he’d told me the Voster had identified elements to Lyssa, the fenek tusk and korakin, I’d thought maybe it was mundane. That an alchemist had created this infection.

And if that was the case, then there’d be a cure.

But Lyssa wasn’t like other diseases. Other infections didn’t alter men’s speed or stealth or strength. That was magic. If the High Priest couldn’t rid it from Ransom’s body, maybe there really wasn’t a cure.

Unless the High Priest was deceiving us all.

My father was certain he could break ancient treaties bound by blood magic. There had to be a way to break a magical infection, too.

Ransom interrupted my thoughts as he snatched my hand. This time when I tried to wiggle free, he didn’t let me go.

No matter how hard I tugged, his grip was iron, and I was very aware of the eyes on us as we passed people on the street. Their gazes took us in and instantly dropped to our linked hands.

“Ransom.”

He smirked. “Odessa.”

“I don’t like holding hands.”

“How do you know? You’ve never held mine.”

I frowned and gave another last, futile pull. “You’re not going to let me go.”

“No, I am not.”

“People will see.” And then they’d think their princess was having an affair with the Guardian.

He swung his free hand into the air, toward the empty street. “What people?”

No one. We were entirely alone. He’d led us to Ellder’s quietest streets. Past vacant homes. Community gardens. Livestock pens. A loop that meant there’d be few prying eyes to see as he laced our fingers together.

So I let loose a sigh and let him hold my hand, because damn it, I liked it. “You’re a pain in my ass.”

“So eloquent, my queen. Also, that’s my line.”

I shot him a pathetic glare that only made him grin. “If Lyssa is magical, then it must have been created by the Voster. They’re the only magical beings in Calandra.”

“It wasn’t the Voster.”

“How do you know?”

“I know,” he said. “I have faith in the Voster.”

Well, I did not. And I didn’t trust magic.

Ransom might not want to consider the Voster, but I’d suffered through enough of their magic to know it wasn’t a blessing but a curse.

“Where were you?” I asked, trading topics. We’d debate the Voster when he was feeling better.

“Hunting. Outside of Frezan. It’s a town similar to Ravalli in the mountains.”

A town I didn’t have on my map but would ask Samuel about when we spoke next. “And?”

“A grizzur killed a man who was trying to defend his cattle from being slaughtered.”

I winced. “Lyssa?”

“No. Just a monster,” he said. “The hunts are working. I have to believe they’re working. We’re getting fewer reports all the time. Less evidence of the infection. And I took your advice and stopped at a pony rider outpost.”

My pulse quickened. “Did they tell you anything?”

He nodded. “They’ve heard some news of attacks. But nothing we didn’t know about already.”

I hummed, and when I opened my mouth to say something, I wasn’t even sure where to start. Countless questions had crossed my mind in the past week, and yet at the moment, they seemed to flutter away like dragonflies.

It was his hand. His warm, strong hand with long, calloused fingers. A warrior’s hand, not one that belonged to a prince. A hand that had no business fitting around mine as well as it did.

“You’re quiet,” he said.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Still angry with me?”

“You lied to me.”

“I did.” His fingers flexed. “I should have told you a long time ago.”

All those times he’d stared at me as if he wanted to say something. “Why didn’t you?”

“Because I knew you’d look at me differently.”

“Like you were my husband?” I quipped.

“Like I was another person to wrap you in chains. Like the way you looked at Zavier.”

How did I look at Zavier? Like my jailer? An enemy? How should I have looked at the man who’d tipped my life upside down?

It wasn’t until Ransom pulled on my hand that I realized I’d stopped walking.

“Come along, Cross. I’m too tired to carry you back.”

I unstuck my feet, following him around a corner. We’d reached the wall, slowly following the logs around the fortress’s perimeter. If we kept going, we’d reach a side gate manned by soldiers. I passed it and the guards stationed beside it every morning when I ran a lap around Ellder. Guards who should not see our hands linked.

Ransom slowed his pace to a near crawl.

“You asked me about my father,” he said. “If he knew about this. He knows Zavier is still acting as my stand-in. He knows I’m the Guardian. He knows about Lyssa. But if he’s tied it all together, I’m not sure.”

“Ramsey doesn’t know that you have Lyssa?”

“He might. We haven’t discussed it. Until that day in Ravalli, I hadn’t spoken to my father in four years.”

“Wh-what? Why?”

“Evie.”

My stomach dropped. “Is she your daughter?”

What was I going to do if that answer was yes? It wouldn’t change my feelings toward her. I loved Evie no matter who her father was. But it would change how I looked at Ransom.

It would be yet another lie, and at some point, there’d be no coming back. Like swimming through the ocean too far from shore. Too many lies, and they’d drown us all.

“She’s not my daughter, Odessa,” Ransom said, and the breath I’d been holding rushed past my lips. “She’s my sister.”

It was a surprise but not the shock it should have been. I hadn’t really thought about it until now, but the way he was with Evangeline was the way I saw myself with Arthy. Even Mae.

“My father has no idea that she exists, and we’d like to keep it that way.”

“Okay,” I drawled. “You should be able to guess my next question.”

Why?

“Because he tried to kill my mother.”