Shield of Sparrows (Shield of Sparrows, #1)

by Devney Perry

Tillia’s arm dropped to her heart as she exhaled. “Thank Arabella.” Why was she thanking the God of Love? Unless… The Guardian had returned.

Um, who was he? What about the Guardian? What was happening?

He dropped a soft kiss to her mouth. It was tender. Beautiful. He loved her. She was his universe. At her side, he was home.

He would not adore me, worship me. I’d traded a loveless engagement for a loveless marriage. I’d never had a man look at me that way. And I never would.

I guess if I fell to my death, at least I’d get to skip that awkward sex.

was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.

peered over the balcony’s edge, my stomach pressing deep against the rail. My heart climbed into my throat as I lifted onto my toes and looked down. At a lionwick sharpening its five-inch claws on the trunk of my tree. I leaped away from the railing on a gasp. My rope ladder was gone, and for the first time, I was glad to be trapped up here.

Zavier sat proudly on his horse, his face unreadable. He looked exactly the same as when he’d left me at that first campsite. Stoic and serious. His gaze surveyed the clearing, shifting from the Guardian’s face to mine, lingering for just a moment, until a little girl captured his undivided attention. He swung off his horse, leaving it free to roam as he dropped to a knee, arms held wide. Evangeline crashed into his chest. “Papa!” Um… What?

A hush had fallen over the dining hall. A hush caused by a quiet man. Zavier stood inside the doorway, arms clasped behind his back, posture rigid. He nodded to his people, then looked to me. A summons.

so he is the prince?!?

“How many men have you bedded? I know you’re anxious to join Zavier in his, but a word of caution—he’s not fond of women who reek of desperation.”

“He goes to fight the monsters. The bad ones.” Bad ones? “Like grizzurs and lionwicks?” “No.” She shook her head. “The sick ones.” Sick monsters. “What do you mean?”

The hairs on the back of my neck prickled as I passed the other rooms, like the people inside were watching,

“This was a horrible idea.” “Agreed.” “Ah!” I yelped as I spun around. The Guardian stood in the center of my room, his legs planted wide, arms crossed over his chest. A breeze drifted in from the open window. And he was livid. “Hello, my queen.” Well, fuck.

“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.”

“Why didn’t you ask?” “Wh-what?” I stammered. His voice was calm. Collected. The silver in his eyes began to melt away, the hazel taking its place. “Haven’t you been granted your every request? If you wanted to explore Ashmore, why didn’t you ask?” I stared at him, jaw slack and mind whirling. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe the door to your cage has always been unlocked, Sparrow? And all you had to do was push it open?” Was that really true? Could I have simply asked?

With the migration coming, if I was trying to keep my people safe, I’d want them behind city walls, too. They’d be safer than hand-dug tunnels. Father’s staff was already preparing for the influx of people who’d seek shelter in Roslo when the crux flew. Except if that was the case, why would King Ramsey leave them unprotected now? Even if the crux came earlier than predicted, there was still time for people to relocate. The migration wouldn’t happen until spring. Unless it had nothing to do with the migration. “Does he want them to move to the cities to be safe? Or watched?”

He was too stubborn, too much of a monster himself, to die. He hadn’t pestered me enough to die. Not today.

His free hand touched my arm in the exact place where he’d grabbed me yesterday outside the tavern, and I winced. “I’m sorry.” “You didn’t hurt me.” Yes, it was tender today. My entire body was sore. But there were no marks. No bruises from his grip. “Maybe not.” The sadness in his green eyes cracked my heart. “But I could have.”

Every evening, I told myself to skip training the next day. To stay locked in my suite until he left Ellder. And every morning, I met the Guardian at dawn. He’d told me on that horseback ride from Ashmore that the gods were vindictive, manipulative bastards. Maybe he was right. By this cruel twist of fate, I was married to Zavier while this man haunted my dreams. This was all we’d ever have together. Morning training sessions with veiled compliments and unfiltered mockery. It wasn’t a friendship. But when I thought about my days in Turah, the best had been with the Guardian. Maybe that was why I couldn’t seem to let him go.

“And people? What happens to people if they’re bitten?” I asked the question but realized as the words tumbled off my tongue that I already had the answer. The Guardian. There was a vulnerability in his green eyes when he looked at me again. “You have Lyssa,” I whispered.

“Where are you hurt?” His voice was frantic. “I’m okay.” We were alive. I sighed, hugging the boy. Later, I was sure my arms and legs would hurt like never before. But for now, we were alive. Thanks to the Guardian. He took my face in his hands, dropping his forehead to mine. His thumb traced my cheek, and tingles exploded on my skin. “You’re okay.” Was he reassuring me? Or himself? “I’m okay.” He leaned away, my face still in his hands. Thumb still tracing. I never wanted it to stop, but as shouts rang through the trees, he let me go.

The Guardian closed his eyes, rubbing a hand over his stubbled jaw. He looked exhausted. He looked like the weight of this kingdom rested on his shoulders.

“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.”

“You’re a princess. And a legend tamer.”

“Such pretty hair. It’s no wonder you caught my son’s eye, Princess.” Except when I met Zavier, I had brown hair.

“You have one month,” Ramsey told him. “Do not make me come and find you again.”

“I told you to stay quiet today.” “I couldn’t help myself. He made me mad.” “Gods save the men who make you mad.” He shook his head, and then a chuckle came from his throat. It preceded a smile. A real smile, wide and white. My heart skipped. It was a smile to chase away that sullen fog. A smile to brighten a miserable day. A smile, just for me.

Strange that this was the moment I saw my husband’s bare chest for the first time. We’d been married for nearly two months. And now I knew the reason he didn’t visit my bed. He’d been in Jocelyn’s instead.

These tears might have started because of Zavier and Jocelyn and my wounded pride. But they kept coming from relief. I didn’t want Zavier to want me. And if he’d found a connection with someone else, that meant I could stop feeling guilty. I could stop loathing myself for falling for Ransom. I’d spent weeks and weeks smothering the truth. Stifling the guilt. And now I didn’t have to anymore. Because Zavier had fucked up first.

“I have to let go.” “Of what?” “You,” I whispered. “You are not mine to keep.” He breathed, shifting so close his chest brushed against my back. “What if I was yours?”

The scar from Father’s knife was nothing more than a pale pink line in my flesh. In the darkness, it wasn’t even visible. He splayed my fingers, spreading my hand wide. Then he held out his own to show a cut healed long ago. All that remained was a faint white line. Twin scars. The scars of a Sparrow. And her king. “With my blood,” he said. “With my oath spoken.”

His eyes darkened, shifting to that forest green as he took my arms, keeping me on my feet. Pulling me close and into his chest. “You have always been my queen.”

I’d hoped that maybe Jocelyn and Brielle would become my friends. But then she’d fucked Zavier. We weren’t friends.

“You are not a pawn, Odessa. Not to me. You are the Sparrow. You are my wife. You are the future queen of Turah.”

His eyes changed as they searched mine. Not silver. Not hazel. Not even emerald green. They turned gold. The same gold I saw each morning in my mirror.

“You are mine, Odessa.” It was a growl, more animal than human.

wasn’t sure who moved first. One moment, my heels were on the ground. The next, a hundred butterflies took flight in my belly, lifting me off my toes, reaching for him as he crushed his mouth to mine. The world around us began to spin, fading into streaks of light and dark, until the colors blended together in a swirl of gray and white and black. Until the only color that remained was green. It was like that first breath after jumping off a cliff, plunging into the ocean, and breaking free from the surface to fill my lungs. It was like being remade.

How could anyone stand to be that close? To touch him? Did his magic not affect children the same way?

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

The monster that had infected Ransom. It should have been a mindless, bloodthirsty beast. But it knew exactly where I was running. And in that moment, it seemed to smile. “No!” I screamed, still running, as it lunged for the boy. Three massive strides. And it ripped that child’s head from his body, tossing it to the side. Then it locked on me.

The agony of the High Priest’s magic drove into my skin, a thousand needles stabbing straight to the bone, but as much as it hurt, I ran toward the Voster, letting him fend off the monsters giving chase.

WHY DOES THEIR MAGIC BOTHER HER SO MUCH?!?!

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.

“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?

“I’ve never touched a priest before. I didn’t realize it would hurt so much.” “It doesn’t hurt.” “I beg to differ.”

Do you really want to go back to Quentis? If you do, then say it. Tell me you want to leave, and I’ll take you back to Roslo myself.” He was giving me the choice. All I had to do was say yes. “No,” I whispered. His eyes drifted closed, his forehead dropping to mine. “Good. I have no desire to live in Quentis.”

“You are mine.” His hands dove into my hair, fingers threading through my curls. “Even if we are kingdoms apart, you are mine. But I’d rather not be a kingdom apart.”

“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.”

swore to serve my king and burn burn burn.”

And his dark-green blood soaked the earth.

When I first met Luella, her regal, poised composure had reminded me so much of Margot. Of a queen. Ransom might look like Ramsey. But his mother had given him a few features of her own. “You’re his mother,” I whispered. Her eyes lifted to mine, her hands going still. “You’re Evie’s mother.” Luella’s fingers flew away, fear widening her gaze. “He told you.”

GIRL DUHHH