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my fiancé had abandoned his responsibilities as general to collect me?
The sunlight caught the amber starbursts in Banner’s eyes, the vivid color bright against the brown of his irises. That amber starburst marked all those born on Quentin soil.
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. And there was no monster more feared than the crux.
Voster priest. My gasp echoed off the walls as I inched away from my father’s emissary. He stared unblinkingly from his towering frame, a head and bony shoulders above my own height. He was dressed in burgundy robes, the fabric draped around his lanky body, pooling at his ankles and feet as bare as my own. The nails on both his fingers and toes were thick and grooved with a dark-green tint. He had no hair, no eyebrows, and his skin was a chilly, pale white. His hawkish nose rested sharply above his thin, colorless lips.
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.
The Turan in the center of the group wore a circlet across his forehead. The band wasn’t inlaid with jewels or gems. It was a twist of metal threads, woven together to form a line of silver. His brown hair was shorter than any of the others’, the soft waves pushed away from his face, the ends curling slightly at his nape. The sides of his crown disappeared beneath the strands at his ears. A small scar cut through one of his eyebrows. His eyes were the color of moss on a stormy day. The shade nearly swallowed the green starbursts in his irises. Prince Zavier was handsome. Stunning, really, with
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“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.”
My eyes were solid gold. Not a starburst in sight.
A wing of silver was inlaid in a circle of gold. Except it wasn’t gold. The hue was red and orange and as bright as the harvest moon.
It was a symbol I’d never seen before. I’d scoured books in the library. I’d drawn it out and taken it to the docks to see if anyone recognized the design. But after all these years, it remained a mystery.
A King cannot kill his Sparrow, and a Sparrow cannot kill her King, either directly or indirectly, without death befalling them both.
As long as enough generations had passed between the mixing of bloodlines to ensure the health of future kings and Sparrows, not much else mattered.
“Not all monsters are born from the gods, my queen. Some of us were made.”
Evangeline crashed into his chest. “Papa!” Um… What?
Emerald meant he was amused. Intrigued. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever seen him actually happy, but green was the color of his gaze when he wasn’t pissed off. They changed to varying shades of hazel when he was serious or focused or annoyed. And then there was the silver of his rage.
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.”
Thumb still tracing.
He nodded. “Ransom. My name is Ransom.”
“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.
Twin scars. The scars of a Sparrow. And her king. “With my blood,” he said. “With my oath spoken.”
Pulling me close and into his chest. “You have always been my queen.”
Ransom closed the gap between us in a single stride, his hands framing my face, fingertips diving into my hair. 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. And the shiver that cascaded down my spine might as well have been my own blades, cleaving me in two. Mine. It was everything I’d wanted to hear for weeks. It was the lie that shattered my heart.
