Shield of Sparrows (Shield of Sparrows, #1)

by Devney Perry

It was written that the old gods, Ama and Oda, created Calandra’s animals as gifts to humans. As companions to share in this realm.

The Six crafted predators in the image of Calandra’s animals, though their variations were far more beautiful. Far more powerful. Far more deadly. They birthed monsters to serve as a reminder to humans and animals alike that we were fragile and insignificant.

The gods had truly outdone themselves with their creation. There were monsters. And then there were the crux.

The Guardian. A man rumored to be more vicious and deadly than any creature crafted by the gods.

The man who entered next didn’t look like a god incarnate. He didn’t appear to be a ghost. He was tall and broad, like the other Turans. Muscled to the point of distraction. His chocolate-brown hair tickled the tops of his shoulders, and his chiseled jaw was covered in a short beard of the same shade. At first glance, he was just a man. Striking. Intimidating. But still, just a man. Yet his irises did not have the typical Turan green starburst. They were solid, molten silver. Liquid metal. Colorless, like my dress. The Guardian.

“Not her.” Margot blinked. “Excuse me?” “Her.” The Guardian’s eyes flicked in my direction, and the whole room followed his gaze. To me. “Prince Zavier will marry her,” he declared. “Tonight. As the bride prize for killing your marroweels.”

“She was yours. Now, she belongs to the prince. She’ll satisfy both the bride prize and the treaty. She’ll be our queen.” Queen.

The magic rooted deep in Calandra’s land tinged our irises at birth with those starbursts, linking us forever to a place. No matter where we lived, where we moved, that one color was unchanging. Every Quentin had an amber starburst. Every Quentin except me. My eyes were solid gold. Not a starburst in sight.

A King cannot kill his Sparrow, and a Sparrow cannot kill her King, either directly or indirectly, without death befalling them both.

“Just because I don’t talk doesn’t mean I can’t.” He grinned. It was less of a smirk than that of the Guardian’s, but it was just as arrogant and infuriating. “Welcome aboard the Cutter, Odessa Wolfe.” Wolfe. Not Cross. Odessa Wolfe.

“I will listen when it’s a matter of safety for myself. For other people. I will do my best to ‘stay the fuck out of the way.’ But I will not bend to your every whim. I will not humiliate myself because you deem me insignificant. If you wanted me to stay quiet, then you should have let that marroweel kill me. I am not one of your warriors to lead. I am not your wife to command. So no, we do not have an understanding.”

“Not all monsters are born from the gods, my queen. Some of us were made.”

“Sore, my queen? We’ll have to add riding to your training regimen. That, or being ridden. I’ll have a word with Zavier.”

“Feel free to wander into mine, Princess.” He leaned in closer. “Zavier likes to share.”

“Thanks,” I deadpanned. “And I was certain I wouldn’t earn any compliments today.” “Praise is for the bedroom, Cross. Not the training ring.”

“I didn’t ask to be married to a stranger and shipped across the continent. I didn’t ask to come to Turah. I didn’t ask to be jailed in a wilderness treehouse. Those were decisions made for me by the whims of men. So you can threaten to take away my freedom all you want, but I will fight you. Every step of the way. Until my last breath. And I will not go quietly into a cage.”

He was a man who’d follow me off the cliff, who’d jump at my side, not pull me away from its edge.

I smiled at Faze. “I guess I have a soft spot for monsters.” Maybe they were all more than they seemed. Or maybe this little tarkin would kill me in my sleep.

“I was told the Gold King’s eldest daughter was weak. I see my spies have been mistaken.”

“When I am nothing but dust and ash, Turah will endure. I do not need a crown. And I have made peace with my destiny. But before I step into my grave, my choice is you.”