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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.”
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.
“You must find the way into Allesaria before summer’s end. Then send word of how I can find and infiltrate the city.”
“They have something I want in that city.”
“Treaties can be broken, Odessa. Remember that.”
A King cannot kill his Sparrow, and a Sparrow cannot kill her King, either directly or indirectly, without death befalling them both.
Kings had to interpret what it meant to enforce this treaty’s will.
Father had told me that treaties could be broken.
“Then I guess I’m trapped between two monsters.” “You have no idea how accurate that statement is,”
I might be the woman wearing the crown, but Jocelyn was the one with the riches, wasn’t she?
“Thank you for saving my life.” Someday, if I had the chance, I’d repay that favor by taking his.
“Not all monsters are born from the gods, my queen. Some of us were made.”
Maybe the heart of the issue was faith. No one believed in me. No one had trust that I was capable.
“Thanks,” I deadpanned. “And I was certain I wouldn’t earn any compliments today.” “Praise is for the bedroom, Cross. Not the training ring.”
The image of him in a darkened room, shirtless, whispering praise into my ear, popped into my head before I could stop it.
“There’s my queen.”
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?
