Shield of Sparrows (Shield of Sparrows, #1)

by Devney Perry

Why was it that the Guardian was always the man to deliver the messages? When would Zavier stop hiding from me?

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

“Miss you,” Brielle murmured, snuggling closer. Her arm slid around my waist.

I hated fake. I hated lies. So I’d stopped making “friends.”

In a way, he looked a bit like Zavier. The Guardian was larger, though. His features more pronounced. Bolder. But they had a few similarities. The straight nose. The slight hollows beneath cheekbones. The sharp jaw. How had I not noticed before?

“I don’t know why I’m surprised. Quentins are usually better at running away than fighting.”

“So, you’d rather rot in a golden castle, withering away to nothing while your family forgets your existence? You were nothing to them. Your father gave you away without so much as a blink. Your sister put on a show of bidding you goodbye, but I’ll wager she’s already in your fiancé’s bed. A man who also let you go without a fight. And don’t you have a little brother? Did they even let you say goodbye?”

It was hopeless. I was hopeless. I was nothing but a toy. A doll. A trivial princess who had no business in this fray between kings. My father was likely making contingency plans for when I failed.

Tillia and the Guardian? Were they together? It made sense. Both were warriors. Both were fearless. She was breathtaking, and he was…him. A slimy sensation crawled beneath my skin, and I shoved it away, refusing to give it a name.

“Are you all right, my queen?” It was the gentlest I’d ever heard his voice. Low and smooth like silk.

To my knowledge, the doctors still didn’t know how I’d survived the poison. The powder was twice as toxic as the venom from any snake, but my body had fought the fever, and somehow, I’d lived.

And no matter how hard I tried to stop it, I dwelled on the Guardian.

And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get the picture of Tillia and the Guardian leaning on each other out of my head.

When I looked to Tillia, I saw a warrior. A leader. A woman who was practically a stranger, but a woman I admired all the same.

They kissed as if they were the only people in the realm. Like the rest of us weren’t watching. I’d never seen anything like it before. And I’d never felt a kiss like that before. All-consuming.

He loved her. She was his universe. At her side, he was home.

It wouldn’t be any different with Zavier, would it? He would not adore me, worship me. I’d traded a loveless engagement for a loveless marriage.

He was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.

“Your eyes. You don’t have a starburst.”

He said Roslo was nothing more than a cesspool of immorality. And he speculated that my father was a murderer.

But I knew, down to my bones, to the very threads of my soul, that he hadn’t killed my mother.

It wasn’t the first time the lack of a starburst in my irises would put a child on edge. It wouldn’t be the last.

And I guess if I couldn’t get more dye, Zavier would eventually learn that—surprise!—his wife had red hair.

King Ramsey of Turah. My father-in-law. Was he the reason Tillia had told me to stay out of sight? Why? Did I need Zavier here to present me or something?

Soft lips. Straight, white teeth. Sparkling eyes. That smile was breathtaking.

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?

While Jocelyn had fallen into a routine, like me, settling into Treow life, Brielle had withdrawn. Each day, she seemed more melancholy and homesick. Watching these families reunite had pushed her to the verge of tears.

He ran a hand over his jaw. It was the hand he’d had bandaged at the wedding. Did he have a scar like mine, pink yet fading each day? “You and I haven’t spent much time together.”

“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.”

Zavier winked, and a hundred butterflies fluttered in my belly. Maybe this marriage wasn’t entirely hopeless.

He was hard and strict and unyielding. But he was fair, and above all else, he served his people. His crown. His kingdom.

So I’d leave Treow today. I’d find the road to Allesaria. I’d find out what was happening in Turah with these sick monsters and burning books.

Besides, there was a chance, a slim chance, that I’d return in two or three days with no one in Treow even realizing that I’d left.

His focus was so intent on the blonde that the rest of the realm might as well have been nonexistent. Wait. He wasn’t here for me, was he? He was here for her?

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.

Then what was that show outside the tavern? Him pretending not to know I was on the street while he’d flirted with that blonde? Just an act to crush my soul?

“I leave you for four days, and you can’t stay put. You are, without a doubt, the biggest pain in my ass I’ve ever met.”

“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.”

I wasn’t used to testing doors. I’d learned a long time ago that they were always locked.

What if I was doing all of this out of blind faith?

“I hate you,” I seethed. “Yes, you do. Don’t forget.” “Never.”

“Why would a king want to burn books?” “Fair question.”

“Ah. As irksome as he is, it’s wise to listen. He is sworn to protect you.”

“Why is King Ramsey destroying books and libraries?” Her teeth clamped together so hard I heard the molars grind. “Because Ramsey has lost his godsdamn mind. I wish I had a better explanation.”

Then she took a step backward and pressed both hands over her heart, giving me a slight bow. “What does that mean? That gesture?” “It means I wish you a safe journey, Princess Odessa Wolfe.”

I knew his expressions. I knew the way he moved. I knew how the air charged when he was angry and the realm blurred when he was close. He was fiercely loyal to his people. He loved his kingdom. He was strong and unbreakable, but gentleness could emerge from that hard exterior. In the way he hugged Cathlin. How he acted with Evangeline. Even the affection he showed his horse.

He searched my eyes the way I searched his. For answers. Salvation. Mercy.

There was a tether between us. Gods save us when it snapped. Why couldn’t I feel this way for the man who’d claimed me?

“You don’t have to hide who you are, Cross. Not here.”

Why would Zavier, a crown prince, not ensure his child was born on Turan soil so she’d have green starbursts?