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.

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 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.”

“Don’t die.” Mae touched the hair at my temple. “You must be ruthless, Dess.”

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

Did anyone miss me? Did I miss them? Yes. But not as much as I’d thought. “Highness,” Jocelyn called from the base of the quarterdeck’s stairs. “It’s time.” I turned my back to the life I’d once lived. I turned toward the future. Toward Turah.

There was a girl inside me who’d once found the courage to jump off a cliffside. That girl had been stifled and smothered. Hidden except for those stolen moments of bravery. It was time to let her stretch her wings and fly.

The idea of training shouldn’t have given me butterflies. But they fluttered in my belly regardless, even when they shouldn’t.

Why was I never the first choice? Why was I always the consolation prize? With Father. With Margot. With my tutors. And now with Zavier. What was wrong with me that I wasn’t enough?

“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.”

I was his. Not bound together by blood or vows or the treaties of men and magic. Bound by this night.

“I will find you. Here, or in the shades.”

He’d kill the monsters. He’d kill them all. And then he’d find me. There was no other outcome that I’d accept.