Shield of Sparrows

Tillia’s fist slammed into my stomach.

“Oof.” I doubled over, my knives dropping from my hand to the ground as I struggled to fill my lungs.

“That’s what happens when you don’t pay attention.” She tsked, then patted my shoulder before going to get a drink of water. “I’ve missed training with you.”

“You mean you’ve missed kicking my ass.”

Her smile was vicious. “Exactly.”

It hurt to laugh, but I did it anyway. “I’ve missed training with you, too.”

The Guardian had taught me a lot since those days on the Cutter, but there was something different about working with Tillia. She didn’t hold back because I was a woman. She came at me like she would any opponent, knowing that a real enemy wouldn’t lessen the strength of a blow or stop a punch when I wasn’t paying attention.

I’d earned that hit to the gut. My focus had been split between her attack and the man I’d just watch disappear through the trees.

“Are we finished?” I asked. Please say yes.

“Yes. Well done. Other than the last minute, you fought hard today.”

“Thank you.” I picked up my knives and stood tall. “Tomorrow?”

“I’ll be waiting in the commons.”

With a wave, I headed into the trees, hoping that the Guardian wasn’t in a hurry, because if he was, I’d never catch up. But a sliver of white popped ahead, the sleeve of his shirt, so I kept my steps light as I jogged to get closer.

He walked alone, his sword strapped across his shoulders, as he made his way toward the edge of the encampment.

Where was Evie? She’d woken me at dawn with a swift kick to the ribs as she turned sideways in her sleep. I’d finished reading a book on legends and monsters while she’d flopped around, and when she’d finally woken up, we’d gone to the commons for breakfast.

Tillia had claimed me for training, and the Guardian had taken Evie to the stables for riding practice. Maybe she was playing with some of the other children? I wasn’t sure I liked the idea of her being left behind.

He could simply be going to check Treow’s perimeter, but there was something in his stride, a purpose and intent, that made me think he was not staying in the encampment.

The Guardian slowed, and before he could turn and spot me, I jumped behind a nearby tree trunk.

“Shit,” I mouthed to myself. Then I counted to five and peeked past the bark.

He was still walking forward.

Phew. I slipped from tree to tree, zigzagging through the forest while keeping my distance.

We were almost to the first watchtower, and my heart was beating so loudly I was sure he could hear it.

A whistle cut through the forest, a signal from above that he was crossing that invisible boundary.

I leaped behind another tree. What were the chances I could get through without being noticed?

Another whistle sounded.

Apparently none.

“I know you’re there, Cross. You’re about as stealthy as a trumpet brigade.”

“Grr.” I jabbed my elbow into the bark. “Ouch.”

Rubbing at the pain, I walked out from behind the tree, then plodded to where he was waiting, arms crossed over his chest.

“Want to tell me what you’re doing following me around?” he asked.

“Want to tell me where you’re going?”

“No.” His mouth flattened, but there was a glint in his green eyes. At least I was amusing everyone today.

“Where’s Evie?”

“With the other children in the commons. Surrounded by a wall of parents and rangers who are unlikely to let anyone under the age of sixteen out of their sight for the foreseeable future.”

“Good.”

He nodded. “What are you doing out here? Honing your spy skills?”

“No.” I kicked a clump of dirt. There were no skills to hone. I was Calandra’s worst spy. “You said I could help find the source of Lyssa.”

“Okay,” he drawled.

“So wherever you’re going, I want to go, too.” Did that sound desperate? Yes. At this point, I was desperate.

“What makes you think where I’m going has anything to do with Lyssa?”

I shrugged. “A hunch.”

“And do you have those often? Hunches?”

“Not real— Actually, yes. I do.”

In Roslo, there were always goings-on in the castle that piqued my interest, that gave me pause. That made me curious about the people coming and going. About the real reasons for hushed whispers and chaste meetings. But I’d never acted upon those hunches. I’d never dared follow Margot or Mae or Father around to find out what it was they were doing.

Satisfying my curiosity hadn’t been worth the risk of being caught.

But here I was, standing before arguably the most dangerous man in Calandra, a known murderer, and I should be terrified.

Except he wouldn’t hurt me. Without a shadow of a doubt, I knew the Guardian wouldn’t hurt me. Yes, he’d tease and scold and ridicule me until I wanted to strangle him to death. But he wouldn’t hurt me.

“Maybe I’m wrong,” I said. “But yes, my hunch is you’re going somewhere because of Lyssa.”

His eyes narrowed. “I said you could help. And you promised to listen to me. If I asked you to go back, would you turn around?”

“Yes.” Would I throw an absolute tantrum first? Definitely. But I’d go. “Please don’t make me turn around.”

He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “You’re a pain in my ass, Cross.”

That meant yes. My smile was instant. “Where are we going?”

“So ready to leap into danger.”

“Um, is it dangerous?”

He arched his eyebrows.

“Right. We’re in Turah, where everything is dangerous. How dangerous, exactly?”

“Guess you’ll find out.” He spun around and resumed his trek through the forest with me at his side, jogging every few steps to keep up.

When he noticed, his eyebrows came together, a frown pulling at his gorgeous mouth. Then he slowed his pace to match mine.

“We sent scouting parties out to make sure there were no other tarkin in the area. They found a den. We’re going to check it out.”

I tripped over my own feet and would have landed face-first in a clump of pine needles, except a strong arm wrapped around my waist, keeping me from falling.noveldrama

The Guardian’s scent filled my nose, wind and leather and moss, mingling with pine and earth. The heat from his body spread against mine as my back pressed into his chest.

A tingle spread through my entire body, and the forest around us faded to a blur of brown and green.

“All right?” His voice was a low murmur in my ear.

I nodded. “Just…clumsy.”

“You’re graceful in your own right.”

Damn, that voice. Rugged and low, a murmur in my ear that made my insides liquefy.

This was when I should be squirming to be set free. To put at least five feet between us. Except I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to lose that arm banding tighter or the feel of his chest rising and falling with every breath.

Not my husband. Not my husband. Not my husband.

I closed my eyes and pictured Zavier’s face. Then I wiggled out of the Guardian’s hold, taking a few long strides away. My face was on fire, lust turning to embarrassment.

Was this part of Zavier’s plan? To leave me with the Guardian, hoping I’d fall for that gravelly voice and handsome face? To catch me in a mistake so that he could hold infidelity against me whenever he needed to keep his wife in line?

Or maybe to throw an affair in my father’s face.

That notion was sobering.

I swallowed hard and straightened my spine, willing the color from my cheeks. “Please don’t touch me like that again.”

“Odessa, I—”

“I’ve never seen a tarkin den. Let’s go.”

The green of his eyes changed to hazel in a blink. His jaw clenched. Then he stormed past me, stalking into the forest with me hustling to keep up.

Part of me wanted to turn around. To forget this entire ordeal and hide in my treehouse. But just like I’d asked for a sword, I’d asked to be included. I was too stubborn to give up.

The truth was, I couldn’t trust him. I couldn’t trust Zavier. Hell, maybe I couldn’t trust my father, either. The only person I could rely on at the moment was myself.

There was only one way for me to break free.

Knowledge.

Every secret I exposed would lead me to freedom. The freedom of choice. So I could decide where I wanted to go. Where I wanted to live. Who I could become.

Sweat beaded at my temples by the time we reached a formation of tall, gray rocks that seemed to have pushed through the earth, carving away the forest.

The Guardian stopped before we reached the stone, crouching to the dirt. He flicked a leaf aside, revealing the perfect imprint of a tarkin’s paw.

The area was rife with footprints. “How many lived here?”

“Just the one. The female. She had teats, and it appears that she gave birth not long ago.”

“We’re here to find the pups.”

He nodded and stood, eyes raking over the area. “She’ll have put them in the den.”

“Do you think they have it? Lyssa?”

“It’s possible.”

And that was why we were here. “How will you be able to tell?”

He didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

“Their blood. It will be green.” Like his. Like the blood I’d seen gushing from his wounds in Ashmore. The blood I’d assumed belonged to the bariwolves.

“And then what?” I asked. “You’ll kill them?”

“If I must.”

“I should have stayed in Treow,” I whispered. I didn’t want to be on this hunt. Not to slaughter babies.

He moved to walk away but stopped. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think they’ll have it.”

“Why?”

“Because I doubt they were bitten.”

“But they would have come in contact with her saliva. If she licked them clean.”

“It doesn’t seem to transfer that way.”

“How do you know?” Had this happened before? Had he killed a mother and hunted down her cubs?

He raked a hand through his hair, a sign that my questions were growing old, but I was just going to keep asking. We both knew that.

“After I was bitten, after the fever, I felt different. But like I said, the changes came on over time. I didn’t realize there was anything wrong with me for months. I felt different but assumed it was just lasting effects from the fever. I was at a tavern. I met a woman.”

“Oh.” Gods. Me and my fucking mouth.

The jealousy was instant. A punch to the gut stronger than Tillia’s this morning. I wanted to take back my question, take them all back, so that the image of him with another woman would forever be gone from my brain.

Was it Sariah from Ashmore? Was that who he’d taken to bed? Who he’d kissed?

This was not a story I wanted to know. Not even a bit.

“She didn’t get Lyssa,” he said.

“Good.” My voice was too bright. “That’s great. I’m sure your future wife will be glad that you can, uh…” This just kept getting worse. “You know what I’m saying.”

“That my future wife will be glad I can kiss and fuck her.”

“Yes. Great news.” My insides twisted as mortification crawled beneath my skin. If there was a stray tarkin nearby, I wouldn’t even try to stop it from killing me right now. “I guess you’ll just have to be careful not to bite her.”

What in the six shades was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I shut the fuck up?

“I’m not much for biting women.”

Why were we still talking about this?

“We’d better find those pups.” I set off for the rocks, feeling his gaze on my shoulders.

“Cross.”

I stopped. Groaned. Turned. “Yes?”

“You wanted to know about Lyssa.”

So this topic of conversation was my fault? Obviously. I could not have regretted it more. “I did. Thanks for sharing.”

His eyes flashed from hazel to green.

Did that mean I was amusing him again? At the moment, I think I’d prefer his fury.

“No need to be shy, my queen.”

I gave him a flat look. “Just incredibly uninterested in your sex life.”

“Noted.” He smirked.

It had been a while since I’d gotten the smirk.

I wished that I still hated it. I wished that it didn’t make him more attractive. I wished that I wasn’t wondering how many women had gotten that smirk before he’d whisked them away to a bedroom.

“The pups?” I hooked a thumb over my shoulder toward the rocks.

The smirk widened to a grin as he walked past me, his arm brushing mine, to start up the rocks. Most were too sheer to climb, but the closest had a more gradual slope that rose to a ledge. It was steep enough that I had to use my hands to crawl my way up.

So did the Guardian. He went first, and when I looked up, I had the perfect view of his perfect ass. Hell, he had a great body. Strong and muscled in all of the right places. Firm and—

“Gah.” What was wrong with me?

His wasn’t the first good behind I’d ever ogled. It wouldn’t be the last. Why couldn’t I stop thinking of him that way?

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Scratched my palm,” I lied.

He cast a disbelieving look in my direction and continued the climb toward the ledge. When he reached the top, he brushed his hands on his pants, then reached out to help me to my feet.

An animal’s yowl came from a darkened corner, the sound similar to a kitten’s meow.

The Guardian took a knife from the scabbard on his hip, then slowly moved toward the noise.

I stayed close, looking past his arm as a cluster of figures appeared.

Three tiny tarkin bodies were on their sides, ribs stretching fur. Lifeless eyes open to nothing.

My chest pinched. “They starved to death.”

The Guardian exhaled, crouched beside them. “She must have gone a couple of days ago. They’re young. Maybe a week old. They’d never survive long without milk.”

“But the noise—” I spun, searching for the source. And there it was, across the ledge on its own. A tarkin whose eyes weren’t dead.

Yet.

I rushed over, about to pick it up, but the Guardian’s hand closed around my elbow, holding me back.

His knife was firm in his other hand. “Turn around. Don’t watch.”

“Wait.” I stared up at him, searching those green eyes. “Don’t kill it.”

“It’s dying. My blade will be a mercy compared to starvation.”

“Why does it have to starve?” I tugged my arm free of his grip and bent, fitting my palms beneath the small creature as I picked it up and laid it in the crook of my arm.

“What are you doing?” the Guardian asked. “That’s a monster.”

“Does it have to be?”

Evie’s words from last night rang in my head.

When I grow up, I’m going to have a pet monster.

People kept dogs and cats as pets all the time. We’d named the tarkin monsters. After yesterday’s attack, it seemed accurate. But what if they didn’t have to be feared? What if there was more to these creatures?

Something thrummed in my chest. Something strange and unfamiliar. Something that I couldn’t explain. I just knew, like I knew the Guardian wouldn’t hurt me, like I knew my name was Odessa, like I knew my eyes were gold and my hair was red, that we couldn’t kill this monster today.

“I want to keep it.”

“No.” He reached for it, but I shied away. “It could have Lyssa.”

“It might. You can test it when it’s stronger.”

“And if it bites you in the meantime?”

I rolled my eyes. “It can’t lift its head. I think I’m safe for today.”

“Cross,” he warned.

“Death isn’t the only mercy.” I ran my finger along the tarkin’s forehead. “When it’s old enough to survive on its own, I’ll set it free.”

“No.”

I looked up and met his glare with my own. “Yes.”

“And if it’s infected?”

“I’ll kill it myself.”

“I’m not taking a chance.” He pulled out a knife and pressed it against the tarkin’s thigh.

“Fine.” I inched closer, and as he nicked the baby’s leg, I squeezed my eyes shut.

Please be red. Please be red.

I cracked my eyes open.

And found gleaming red blood on his blade.

Phew.

The Guardian’s gaze shifted, not to the hazel I’d expected but to that rich forest green. “Would you really have killed it?”

“Yes.” It would have taken a piece of my soul, but I would have done it.

“Would you kill me if necessary?”

The question startled me into silence.

So we stared at each other, a dying monster in my arms, and I realized that he was asking for the same mercy. That if he became a monster, if he lost control, he’d want a quick death.

“Yes,” I whispered. “If I must.”

“Swear it.” There was an intensity, an edge, to his voice that made it difficult to breathe.

“I swear it.”

“I will hold you to that vow.” He dropped his gaze to the tarkin. “Odessa.”

He used my first name so rarely, whenever he did, I paid attention.

“You asked for my name,” he said.

“You told me I had to earn it.”

He nodded. “Ransom. My name is Ransom.”