Shield of Sparrows

Evie was on my bed, wrestling with Faze, when a knock came from the door.

“I got it.” She jumped to the floor and tore through my suite, our tarkin leaping down to follow as she weaved past furniture in the sitting room.

I hurried after them, as anxious as Evangeline to see who was at the door.

Please be Ransom.

It had been a week since the bariwolf attack. Since Ransom, Zavier, the High Priest, and a score of rangers had gone to hunt the pack that had killed thirty-one people in Ellder.

We’d had no word since they left, and every day that passed, I felt more and more on edge. If something happened to Ransom…

I shoved those fears from my mind as Evie yanked the door open.

The hope on her face died a swift death when Samuel Hay greeted us with a bow.

“Good morning, Miss Evangeline. Princess Odessa.”

Evie leaned past the doorway, searching for someone else.

Zavier’s absence had hit her harder than usual. Probably because she knew where he’d gone was dangerous. Despite Luella’s and my best efforts to keep news of the attack out of this house, she’d overheard her nanny talking about the people who’d died. And while it wasn’t always easy answering her questions, I couldn’t pile more lies on her tiny shoulders.

So we’d told her about the attack. She knew something had happened that day. And while she didn’t often play with the other kids in Ellder, she’d been heartbroken to learn that five children were now dead.

She’d cried on my shoulder and on Luella’s, but the person she needed, her father, was gone. Her worry for Zavier was more than any four-year-old child should have to suffer.

“Were you expecting someone else?” Samuel asked, following Evie’s gaze down the walkway. “I don’t want to interrupt.”

“You’re not.” I waved him inside. “Please. Come in.”

He followed me into the sitting room as Evie stayed in the open doorway.

“You’d better run back down for your lessons,” I told her. “I’m sure Luella is waiting.”

“Okay,” she muttered, then trudged out, closing the door behind her.

“Still no word from Prince Zavier?” Samuel asked.

“No.”

To my knowledge, Samuel, like everyone else in Ellder, knew that Evie was Zavier’s ward, but not that she called him Papa behind closed doors. Maybe they suspected she was his daughter.

Adopted daughter. A detail that didn’t matter. The only person the whole truth would hurt was Evie. She was Zavier’s, as he was hers.

“Hopefully, they’ll return soon.” He gave me a sad smile. “Unharmed.”

“I hope so, too.”

It had taken nearly the entire week for the dust to settle after the attack. Men, women, and children had been buried. The fortress had mourned. And its people had talked.

Some believed the bariwolf pack had numbered twenty. Others claimed there’d been over thirty of the monsters. It was the largest pack to have ever been seen in Turah.

Maybe they’d come together because they’d all been infected with Lyssa. Maybe the monster with a single eye had bitten each of the others in its pack and that had created some sort of alpha bond. Regardless of their number, they had brought death to Ellder.

And now there were whispers through the fortress about monsters with green blood.

They might not know its name, but the rumors and speculation about Lyssa were spreading as quickly as the infection.noveldrama

Maybe once that happened, Ramsey could no longer feign ignorance. He’d have to send help. And the other kings in Calandra would start to take it seriously. Maybe then we could get some fucking help to kill these monsters.

The bariwolves had struck the walls at different points, drawing the focus of the soldiers stationed on the ramparts. I’d ventured out yesterday afternoon to see the claw marks. Some cut three inches deep.

Mindless, crazed monsters shouldn’t have had the intelligence to coordinate such an attack. Maybe it hadn’t been orchestrated and we were simply reading too much into it. But whatever their intent, they’d managed to distract the guards and cause a ruckus.

While the bariwolves outside the fortress had clawed and scratched, some trying to scale the walls, the others had raced for the gates before they could be closed, breaking into the courtyard.

The soldiers stationed atop the tower who’d survived were all distraught, carrying the blame for the thirty-one souls now resting in the shades.

The gates were typically left open during the day for people to come and go. They’d closed behind Ransom and Zavier a week ago and hadn’t reopened until yesterday. Even then, they were open for only minutes—enough time for those who’d decided to leave Ellder behind to drive their wagons out of the fortress. Enough time for me to see the claw marks, then retreat inside.

It shouldn’t have happened. Had the monsters not been infected, the barrage of arrows that had rained down on them from the ramparts would have deterred them. But they’d been driven by bloodlust.

And it had been satisfied.

The slain monsters had been burned, and I wished there was solace in their deaths. I wished I could feel a sliver of relief that at least they couldn’t harm another person. But for a week, all I’d felt was hopeless.

There were too many monsters.

Was this what we could expect from the crux? It was no wonder the older generations were terrified of the migration.

No matter how much time passed, how many years I lived, I would never forget this attack. I would never forget the sight of that boy dying.

“Are you all right, Princess?” Samuel asked.

I shook myself out of the memory and forced a smile. “Of course. How are you? How is Jonas?”

“Back in school today. With the other kids.” The survivors. “It was difficult to send him out the door this morning.”

Most of the children who’d gathered in the courtyard had been at school that day. Two of the teachers had been killed. Jonas and some of the older boys had hung back from the little ones. When the attack started, they’d raced to the nearest building and barricaded themselves inside.

“I suppose, if anything, this was a reminder of what’s to come during the crux migration.”

“I suppose.” I nodded for Samuel to follow me to the chairs in the sitting room.

“I didn’t think Turah would be like this.” Samuel took a seat, swallowing hard. “When Emsley was alive, we visited Turah. We stayed along the coast. Spent a month in Perris. She wanted to go deeper into the kingdom, to explore the mountains. But we tried for weeks to hire a guide. No one would take us, so we tabled that journey for another time. Part of why I chose Ravalli was because she wanted to see it herself. I think I’m glad she didn’t.”

Zavier had warned me months ago, on the deck of the Cutter, that this kingdom was dangerous, but nothing he could have said would have prepared me for this reality. Turah was perilous. Majestic. Horrifying. Stirring. It was every emotion, good and bad, woven into a landscape that had stolen my heart.

Like its guardian.

“Anyway.” Samuel shifted in his seat, checking over his shoulder to the closed door. Then he opened the satchel he’d brought along. “I was able to finish your map.”

“Oh. You didn’t need to worry about that.”

“It was a welcome distraction on sleepless nights.” He stretched to hand it over.

I unfolded the paper, scanning new lines mingled with old.

He’d adjusted the path of a few roads and towns. He’d added many that I hadn’t known about. He’d expanded the mountain ranges and detailed rivers beyond my initial sketch. He’d infused the parchment with detail and depth.

“This is beautiful.” Not something I’d ever said about a map. “Thank you.”

He nodded. “I’ve done my best. But I’m afraid it is lacking. The area you’d hoped to add, I cannot. And I don’t think you should, either.”

When I dropped this off, I’d added a line, a guess, to Allesaria.

That line had been erased.

I couldn’t blame him for being nervous.

“I appreciate this,” I said. “I know it was a risk. I swear no one will ever know this exists.”

It would be a shame to toss this work of art into my fireplace once I’d transferred the details to my journal’s loose pages.

Samuel smacked his hands to his knees before standing. “I will take my leave, Princess.”

“Odessa.”

“Princess Odessa.” He bowed, smiling as I rolled my eyes. “Good day.”

“Thank you again.” I escorted him to the door and sent him on his way with a wave. Then I went to my room, retrieving a charcoal stylus from my vanity.

And the journal I kept hidden beneath my chest of drawers.

After fitting the pieces together, aligning some edges and overlapping others until the puzzle was complete, I went about transferring Samuel’s additions and corrections.

I hadn’t touched these pages since Ravalli. So far, I’d been noting monsters with Lyssa with tick marks, but there’d been so many bariwolves in Ellder, I simply added an X.

With it complete, I stood, surveying the pages, letting the lines and marks blend together.

Lyssa had started somewhere. Some place. An epicenter. But as I squinted my eyes, hoping a pattern would leap off the parchment, all I saw were fuzzy splotches of gray and white.

There was no cluster of monsters. No convergence on a certain point.

“Damn,” I breathed.

Was this a waste of my time? Maybe the source, the person who’d created Lyssa, traveled too widely to pinpoint. Maybe the monsters themselves were too nomadic and because they wandered so freely, by the time they attacked, it was impossible to know where they’d been infected.

It was Allesaria.

It had to be Allesaria. And it had something to do with the Voster.

There wasn’t a single reference to other magical creatures in all the books I’d read since coming to Turah. Certainly nothing I’d read at home in Quentis.

Regardless of what Ransom believed, if Lyssa was magical, the Voster were involved. The brotherhood had to be the reason my father was so determined to find Allesaria. It had to be the Voster stronghold, somewhere deep within the Turan mountains.

Samuel had embellished the landscape, and according to his map, the range north of Ellder seemed to be the largest.

There weren’t any markings in that area.

So either my assumption was entirely wrong and Allesaria wasn’t anywhere near that range. Or Allesaria wasn’t the source, the Voster were innocent, and Ransom was right about everything.

I was stuck. Again. Did all spies have these moments when nothing came together? Or was that just me?

I needed Ransom’s cuff. To see if it did mark the capital. But he wasn’t here, and even if he were, I doubted he’d hand it over for me to trace.

My frustration cloaked the room, stuffy and hot, so I collected the pieces of my map, tucking them back into the journal. Then, with it hidden beneath my chest, I went to the hearth and burned Samuel’s map.

Faze was on the sitting room’s windowsill, asleep. He didn’t even crack a violet eye when I scratched behind his ear. The scales along his spine were beginning to harden. His canines were getting longer. Sharper.

He nipped at Evie’s fingers every now and then. Each time I caught it, I bopped him on the nose, hoping I could teach him not to bite. But the first time he broke her skin…

Well, that would be the end. There’d be no more days of them playing together. No more nights of him sleeping on my extra pillow.

The longer we kept him, the harder it would be to set him free. But he wasn’t big enough to hunt yet. To provide for himself. To stay clear of the other predators in the wild.

I stroked along the fur of his nose, the same light pink as on his belly, then touched the tip of a fuzzy, ruby red ear before I left him to nap and went outside.

I set off for no destination in particular, simply needing the fresh air to clear my head. The streets in Ellder were quiet today. They’d been quiet all week. People walked with their heads down, their bodies tense and alert. No one left the safety of their homes unless it was necessary.

Had it not been so quiet, I probably wouldn’t have heard the thunder of hooves echoing from the gates. I’d been waiting for that sound all week.

I changed paths, jogging toward the courtyard. It hadn’t been easy to come back here this week, but the day after the attack, I’d forced myself to return. To stand, with tears streaming down my face, in the place where that boy’s blood had stained the dirt.

His name was Witt.

Witt. Sariah.

I would remember their names. For the rest of my life.

My heart was in my throat as I made it to the end of the main road just in time to see a band of warriors ride through the gates, dust puffing from beneath their horses’ hooves as they came to a stop. There was a wagon in their midst.

Tillia stayed in her saddle, the brown skin around her eyes looking tired and her expression hard. It only softened as Halston rode up beside her.

I scanned faces, searching for Ransom, but this was Halston’s hunting party, not Zavier’s. These rangers hadn’t been in Ellder when the bariwolves had attacked. Tillia had been in Treow.

Stable boys and men from the livery came forward to collect the animals, taking them away to water. The horses looked as exhausted and dusty as their riders.

Tillia and Halston dismounted and stood together, his arm around her shoulders, as the other warriors all scattered, probably to find a place to crash.

Halston murmured something into his wife’s ear as his hand moved to her belly, splaying across the slight swell.

My jaw dropped, my hand coming to my heart.

Tillia looked up and caught me staring. She smiled, her hand covering her husband’s.

Halston followed her gaze and gave me a slight bow before he kissed her temple, then collected her bags, carrying them to wherever they stayed while in Ellder as Tillia came my way.

“Hi.” She pulled me into a hug. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” I let her go, eyes dropping to her stomach. “What is this? You’re pregnant?”

A brilliant smile lit up her face and pretty brown eyes. “The healers cautioned us that much can happen early on. We kept it to ourselves for a while. But there’s no hiding it now.”

“I’m happy for you.”

“Me too.” She looped her arm with mine, pulling me along as we left the courtyard. Like she knew I wasn’t ready to linger for long. “Halston and his rangers have been with Zavier and the Guardian.”

The air rushed from my lungs. “Are they—”

“On their way here. They split off to scout the area. We’ve come from Treow. Halston wants me in Ellder until the baby is born. Apparently, now that I’m carrying his child, I can no longer climb a rope ladder.”

“Aww. It’s sweet that he’s protective. And maybe, right now, it’s smart to be cautious.” Though after last week’s attack, I wasn’t sure anywhere was safe.

Her smile faded. “I heard what happened.”

“Did they find the pack?”

Tillia shook her head.

My insides knotted as dread pooled. Everyone here was waiting for news that the pack was dead. That the threat was eliminated. That vengeance was ours.

But this news would break hearts.

“The Guardian won’t give up.” Tillia patted my arm. “He won’t stop hunting.”

“When—?”

A call from the ramparts rang out. “Open the gates!”

We both turned, unlinking our arms as we stood in the courtyard, watching as Zavier and his rangers rode inside. Two of them had been with him in the throne room. Another three I didn’t recognize. Vander rode beside my fake husband.

And behind them all, hanging back with Aurinda, came Ransom.

His face was streaked with dirt and dark smudges, likely blood. There was a sword strapped across his back. His clothes were filthy, and his hair was in disarray. He was a mess. And so beautiful that my throat burned with the threat of tears.

The anxiety I’d been battling for a week vanished, and for the first time in days, I could take a full breath.

His gaze cut through the others, landing on me like he could sense me in the crowd. Like he was as linked to me as I was to him. His expression didn’t change. Didn’t relax. But his eyes shifted from hazel to green.

Zavier came to a stop, blocking my view of Ransom as he swung off his horse. His left arm was in a sling, and he limped. There was a sheen of sweat on his face, but he wasn’t as dirty as the others.

“His shoulder was dislocated,” Tillia said. “He was thrown from his horse when it was scared by a lionwick. He’s been in Treow for a couple of days with the healers while the others were hunting.”

Hence why he was clean and the others were not.

Except Zavier hadn’t bothered to shave while he was recovering. With his short beard, he looked more like Ransom than ever before.

“You can see now why it works,” Tillia said. “That he can pretend to be the prince.”

Of course she knew. Maybe I should have been upset that she knew, but Tillia’s loyalty to Zavier, to Ransom, was part of why I admired her.

“I’m sorry, Odessa. For the lies.”

“You were following orders. I understand.” I shrugged. “How many others know the truth?”

“Halston. Vander. It is different in Allesaria. Those around court recognize Ransom. But here, in the wilds, only those in their closest circle know the truth of their identities. They see Zavier as the prince and Ransom as the Guardian.”

There was comfort in knowing I’d been brought into Ransom’s closest circle. Tillia’s, too.

“Who are they?” I pointed to the wagon that had come in with Halston and Tillia.

There were two men being carried on stretchers from the back and taken to the infirmary.

“They wandered into Treow three days past. Both took ill the day they arrived. We haven’t been able to wake them since.”

“Lyssa?”

“The healers checked them extensively for bites. Nothing. It could be that they were out hunting and got lost. Both are dehydrated and undernourished. All we can do is pray to Ama that they’ll both survive so we can find out where they came from.”

After all I’d seen last week, I wasn’t sure Ama was listening to prayers from Turah.

The men and horses seemed to part for Ransom, who led Aurinda our way. He paused beside Zavier, saying something no one else could hear. A stable boy came to take his stallion’s reins. Then he walked to me with long, purposeful strides.

My belly fluttered. Shades, I’d missed him.

“I’m going to go find Halston.” Tillia touched my arm, then walked away as my husband snared me with that emerald gaze.

He stopped in front of me, crossing his arms over his chest. “Cross.”

“Wolfe.”

The corner of his mouth turned up. “Miss me?”

“Never.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a horrible liar?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you stink?” I scrunched up my nose, not caring that he reeked of blood and horse and sweat. Beneath it all was that wind and earth and the spice that was wholly Ransom. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, my queen.” He bowed. “Are you?”

I am now.

The relief lasted but a single heartbeat. On the next, I felt the telltale prickle of magic. The sting of the Voster.

A shiver raced down my spine as the High Priest appeared over Ransom’s shoulder, walking through Ellder’s gates just as the soldiers began to push them closed. With him was Brother Dime, Father’s emissary.

It was like being snatched back in time, to the day in the throne room and sanctuary. The magic of one was uncomfortable. But two of the priests? I fought to fill my lungs, to tamp down the pain.

I scratched at my forearms.

“What is it?” Ransom asked.

“Nothing.”

He frowned. “What did I just say about lying?”

“You’re one to talk.”

Ransom’s jaw clenched. It was faint, barely a tick to his jaw, but it was enough to know the sharpness in my voice had grated on a nerve.

I blamed it on the Voster. On the way they set me on edge.

The High Priest came to Ransom, levitating instead of walking, with Brother Dime at his side.

Ransom turned, bowing to the priests.

Brother Dime returned the gesture.

But the High Priest kept coming, floating on that phantom wind until he was close enough that the barbs from his magic rocked me on my heels.

Without a word, he snatched my hand before I could shy away.

Pain, as sharp as knives and as hot as fire, lanced through my arm like it had been cleaved in pieces. My legs buckled as a cry tore from my throat.

“Stop.” I jerked my arm, trying to pry myself free, but the High Priest’s grip only tightened, keeping me from collapsing on my knees.

Ransom’s sword was a blur of silver steel, stopping a whisper from the High Priest’s throat. “Let her go. Now.”

The High Priest released me, and I dropped, knees cracking on the ground.

Ransom was between us in a flash, sword still raised as he held out a hand to help me to my feet.

I swallowed hard and stood, gulping down a breath. The pain faded instantly, leaving only the prickle in its wake.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Ransom roared.

The High Priest only sank to the soles of his feet, seemingly unconcerned with Ransom’s blade, and turned to Brother Dime. “Did you know?”

“I thought she was simply frightened. Like so many.”

The High Priest cocked his head to the side, dark eyes locked on my face and hair. “Who is your mother, child?”

“M-my mother?” Why was he asking about my mother?

But before I could ask, a shout carried across the courtyard.

“Zavier!” We all turned to see Luella racing our way, her dark hair unbound and the color drained from her face.

Ransom lowered his sword but didn’t drop it completely. With his other hand, he kept me behind him, shielding me from the priests as he looked to Luella.

Zavier abandoned his warriors and horses, rushing toward us as quickly as he could with the limp.

But Luella raced for Ransom, clutching his arm.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Evie.” She gulped. “She’s gone.”