Shield of Sparrows

The fear from the tarkin’s attack was withering, and my body was beginning to shut down. My legs felt weak, my steps unsure. My arms were tingling and my head spinning. And the addition of Voster magic was not helping.

The High Priest was standing beside the Guardian as they inspected the dead tarkin. The Voster’s magic had whittled away the last of my strength.

How could the Guardian stand it? It took the last shred of my energy not to squirm.

Tillia strode through the trees, coming from the direction of the commons. She gave the Guardian and High Priest a quick glance as she came to my side, her hand resting on my shoulder. “Odessa, I heard what you did. Are you all right?”

“Yes,” I lied. “I’m fine.”

If fine meant seconds from screaming or crying or both.

All I wanted was to crawl into bed. The Guardian had sent a soldier to fetch a new rope ladder and the poles they used to attach them to treehouse balconies, but it was taking forever. So for now, I was stuck, wishing I was with Evie instead of standing down here with a tarkin corpse.

The Guardian had climbed his own ladder after the attack, then leaped across the space between our balconies to take care of the girls. Marco’s sister had been brought down and reunited with her mother. Evie had been taken to his treehouse and left with three guards to watch her until he was finished with the Voster.

How much longer did they need to poke and prod at the monster? It was dead. Couldn’t they burn the body and be done with it?

The Voster said something that only the Guardian could hear. Then they both walked away, and finally, I could breathe. It felt like steam escaping a bathhouse when the windows were opened. As the sting of magic was swept away, my body swayed.

“I’m taking you to the infirmary.” Tillia’s arm looped through mine, and as she pulled me along at her side, I was helpless to resist.

“But Evie—”

“Is fine. She’s got three guards with her. They won’t let her out of that treehouse until the Guardian comes to relieve them himself.”

“I don’t want to go to the infirmary.” No sooner were the words out of my mouth than a fresh wave of dizziness hit me so hard I swayed. “Okay. Maybe I should go to the infirmary.”

Tillia scoffed. “You think?”

Tillia was at my bedside when I awoke, still foggy but not as weary.

“How long was I asleep?” I asked, pushing myself up to a seat.

“Not long.”

Sunshine streamed through the infirmary’s windows, bright like it was still midday.

“Better?” she asked.

“Much.”

“After a scare like that, I would have passed out, too. What you did for those children was—”

“Reckless.” I stole the Guardian’s word.

She patted my arm. “I was going to say brave.”

No one had ever called me brave before. “What were those kids doing out alone in the middle of an attack?”

“All of the children were playing in the commons when the alert sounded. Their mother was working with Mariette. There were two tarkin, a male and female. The male cut off her path so she couldn’t get back. Then they were separated from the others and ran to hide. None of us knew there was a female. We were all too busy attempting to corner the male.”

“How many people died?” I asked but didn’t really want the answer.

“Five soldiers from Ellder. Three people in Treow.”

I swallowed hard. “Any children?”

“A boy, seventeen, who worked in the stables. One of the cooks is dead. And a maid.”

“Not Brielle or Jocelyn?”

Tillia shook her head. “They’re fine. Both were here while you were asleep. They promised to be back soon.”

I wanted to curl up on the cot and go back to sleep, to pretend this was all a bad dream. “How did this happen? Why weren’t they killed at the watchtowers?”

“The tarkin came at Treow at full speed, intent to kill. With their armor plating, it’s almost impossible to take them down with an arrow from above. The three dead were killed within moments of the male reaching the commons. Once we were alerted, we came running, but…”

But that monster had been intent on killing.

“The Guardian was able to bring it down. Then we heard Evie scream.” Tillia swallowed hard. “I’ve never seen him move so fast.”

Lyssa was to thank for that speed. Though I suspected it was the infection that had brought the monster to Treow in the first place.

“Did the male have Lyssa?”noveldrama

Tillia’s eyes flared. “He told you about Lyssa?”

“I don’t think he meant to, if that makes any difference.”

She glanced around, making sure the healers were not within range to overhear our conversation. “Yes, it did. So did the female. Normally, tarkin are solitary creatures, especially the males. They’ll find a female to mate with, but otherwise, they aren’t like bariwolf packs. But these two? I’m convinced they came together, one drawing attention as the other hunted.”

A chill skated down my spine. “It’s not safe in Treow, is it?”

“This morning, I would have promised you it was secure. Now? I’m not so sure.” She gave me a sad smile, then stood. “I’ve got monster carcasses to burn. Will you be all right?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

She dipped her chin. “My queen.”

“Ugh.” I groaned. “You’ve been spending too much time with him.”

Tillia’s smile was pretty, albeit a bit evil. “I’ll see you soon.”

I waited until she was gone before I swung my legs off the side of the bed, giving myself a few moments for my head to stop swimming before I stood. Then I shuffled down the hall to leave.

My bed was calling. If I could convince the guards to move Evie to my treehouse instead of the Guardian’s, maybe she and I could cuddle.

I could use a cuddle and a hug. Especially since my skin was still irritated from the Voster encounter.

Except the closer I came to the exit at the end of the hall, the more that irritation intensified. With every step, the crawling sensation on my arms and legs got worse. Then I heard a low, familiar voice, and I knew exactly who I’d find in the infirmary room on my left.

The Guardian sat on the edge of a high table, facing the wall, not the cracked door. His shirt was pooled on his lap, as was the cuff that covered his bite scar.

Standing beside the Guardian was the High Priest. His green fingernails had grown even longer since my wedding ceremony and resembled tiny snakes. He had a palm hovering over the Guardian’s naked chest. The other loomed above that crescent-shaped scar.

“Whenever you’re ready, brother.” The Guardian gritted his teeth, chiseled jaw clenched.

Then the Voster touched the Guardian’s skin, murmuring something low and smooth.

The Guardian’s frame tightened, every roped muscle flexing. His hands balled into fists on his knees as the cords in his neck popped, his body beginning to vibrate.

I took a step closer, eyes wide as the priest kept speaking. What spell was this? What was he doing?

The light in the infirmary seemed to shine through the priest’s skin, making it appear even more translucent. It was so pale, I could make out green veins beneath his bald head that seemed to pulse, like his magic was flowing through him to his hands.

And the Guardian continued to tremble in pain, tipping his face to the ceiling as tears dripped from the corners of his eyes.

I gasped, moving for the door.

But the Voster flung out a hand, sending a wave of wind blasting my direction.

The door slammed shut in my face.

I stood dumbfounded, mouth flapping open.

What was going on in that room? It was as if the priest had sent all of his wicked magic into the Guardian’s body. Why?

I took a step away, a new ache flowering in my skull.

The Guardian’s faith in the Voster was unwavering. But what if the High Priest was wrong? What if Lyssa wasn’t some sort of mutation or disease? What if they’d been the cause?

The Voster’s eyes were the same dark-green shade as blood from the infected monsters. That couldn’t be a coincidence.

I walked out the infirmary’s exit, not sure what to think anymore, and nearly collided with a woman.

“Highness.” Brielle hauled me into her arms, holding tight. “You’re alive. Thank the gods. I’ve been so worried.”

“Brielle.” I hugged her hard, then relaxed and took her in, from the tunic she wore to her pants hugging her generous curves. “No dress?”

She shrugged. “When in Turah.”

I laughed, something I didn’t think would be possible today, and hugged her again. “How are you? Tell me everything. I’ve missed you.”

“Oh, no you don’t. You were supposed to be back in a few days. It’s been weeks. You’re the one with a lot of explaining to do.”

And so I explained. For an hour, we sat in the dining hall while I told her about Ashmore. About the bariwolves. How the Guardian had taken me to Ellder, where I’d been for weeks. And how we’d returned to Treow just in time to face the tarkin.

I told her almost everything, except about Evie. And Lyssa.

“Have you found anything about Allesaria?” she asked, voice low, when I was finished.

“Nothing. At this point, I’m starting to wonder if it even exists,” I told her. “Maybe it’s only a myth.”

It was said mostly in jest, but Brielle hummed, her eyebrows knitting together. “Interesting. It would certainly prove elusive to foreign kings. Draw their curiosity like it has your father’s.”

“Maybe,” I murmured. It still seemed like a stretch.

If Allesaria was a myth, the people in Turah had been putting up that ruse for a long, long, long time.

What if we all believed in a city that didn’t exist?

My headache spiked, and while it was an interesting theory to entertain, I was too tired. “I think I’ll head to the treehouse now. I could use some rest.”

“Of course.” Brielle stood and walked with me through the commons. “Jocelyn and I will bring you dinner and water for a bath. I’m not sure where she went. But she’s anxious to see you, too.”

“Thank you.” I hugged her again, then left for my treehouse.

A ranger fell into step behind me, following me as I left the commons. Either Tillia’s or the Guardian’s doing, no doubt. But I was glad for the company when I approached the treehouse.

The rope ladder had been replaced. The tarkin’s body was gone, and the dirt had been raked to hide any trace of its blood.

I put my first foot on the lowest rung and froze. My heart began to race. My limbs felt too heavy. When I closed my eyes, I heard that growl. I saw claws and teeth.

“Are you all right?” the ranger asked.

“Yes.” I forced my eyes open, put my hands on the ladder.

And climbed.

Evie’s three guards were waiting on the balcony when I reached the top. I guess I wasn’t the only one who wanted to cuddle. She must have convinced them to let her move.

One guard held out his hand, helping me up. Then I slipped into the room, finding Evie asleep on my bed, beneath the pillows.

I pulled them away and shifted her to the side, then lay beside her, our bodies curling together. We cuddled until Brielle and Jocelyn brought us a dinner that we shared.

Evie was quiet through the meal, picking at her food.

“Scared?” I asked.

She shrugged.

“Me too.”

“Were those monsters sick?”

“Yes.”

She thought about it for a moment. “When I grow up, I’m going to have a pet monster. And then if a sick monster comes after me, it will protect me. And then I’m going to become a monster hunter, like Papa.”

Not a chance her father or the Guardian or Luella would let her have a pet monster. Or become a monster hunter. “What will you name it? This pet of yours?”

“I dunno.” She poked at a carrot, then looked to me with pleading gray eyes. Those blue starbursts in her irises always seemed to shine brighter when she wanted something. “Dess? Can I sleep with you tonight?”

“Does anyone say no to you?”

She shook her head.

“You can sleep with me if you eat your dinner, little star.”

Her forehead furrowed at the nickname. “What’s that mean?”

“That you’re bright and beautiful. That you’re brave, even in the night.”

Her face pinked as she gave me a shy smile. Then she dove into her meal, taking bites so large they bulged her cheeks.

Margot would have scolded her for unladylike behavior.

I shoved a huge bite into my own mouth instead.

We played games and told stories. When Brielle and Jocelyn returned with water for a bath, I let Evie use it instead. And once she was clean and in a fresh sleep shirt, I combed and braided her hair. Then we lay on my pillows, her yawns keeping me company as night fell over Treow, until eventually, she drifted to sleep.

The stars were shining when I snuck through the door to the balcony.

The Guardian was waiting on his own. He looked…miserable. His skin was sallow. There were dark circles beneath his eyes. And even though hazel wasn’t my favorite color of his eyes, I’d take it over the flat, muted gray of his irises tonight.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

He dipped his chin. “How’s Evie?”

“Asleep.”

“She usually steals my bed when she’s in Treow and Zavier is gone. I have a cot brought in for her, but I’m the one who ends up using it.”

Was that who he’d been talking to all those nights ago? Not a woman sharing his bed. A girl who’d stolen it.

It was more of a relief than it should have been, but I was still raw from the attack. Tonight, I didn’t have it in me to fight my own damn feelings.

“I should have come to see her earlier.” He blew out a long breath. “I was tied up.”

“With the High Priest? I, um, saw you. In the infirmary earlier.”

“Ah.” He dropped his forearms to the rail, staring into the forest. “He was siphoning Lyssa from my blood.”

“What?” Not what I had expected to hear. He could do that? “Why? Does he think he can cure it?”

“There is no cure, Sparrow. Get that notion out of your head.”

Why did it seem like he’d given up? His voice sounded hollow. It was different than when we were in Ashmore. This wasn’t just sadness and guilt. This was emptiness. Hopelessness.

“He’s been studying the infection,” he said. “Trying to find out where it came from. How it started.”

“And?”

He stared into the night, jaw flexing.

“The High Priest found something,” I guessed. And whatever it was did not make the Guardian happy.

He nodded. “He thought at first that it had come from another animal. That a disease had morphed over time, rotting its host. Possibly a fenek. He said Lyssa felt the same as the blood of someone poisoned with fenek tusk powder. But it was different enough that he’s kept searching. When we were on the Krisenth, he siphoned more from my blood and took it to Laine, hoping to speak to their healers and alchemists.”

They were known to be the best in Calandra. Mostly because they had unlimited access to the kingdom’s array of spice fields. Their alchemists had the luxury of experimentation, while those in other kingdoms had to pay handsomely for raw ingredients to make medicines.

“Did they know anything?” I asked.

“No.” He stared, unblinking, toward the forest floor. “Only that it had a strong reaction to korakin. Lyssa and korakin seem to adhere. That they were alike.”

“Korakin. As in, kaverine dung?”

The Guardian nodded.

Kaverine were some of the smaller monsters in Calandra. They were twice as vicious as their cousins, the wolverines. Kaverine lived in the Laine deserts, burrowing into the sand dunes and hunting for prey at night.

Why an alchemist would ever decide to experiment with kaverine dung was beyond me, but long before I was born, someone had discovered its use and named it korakin.

When korakin was boiled to mush, then reduced to a paste, all a person needed was a taste and they’d hallucinate for hours. They’d feel no pain. They’d forget their own name.

The infirmary in Roslo used it for patients who needed amputations or surgeries. It left some with a horrible addiction, and since korakin was nearly as expensive as fenek tusk powder, most who craved it ran their lives into ruin in search of more.

Why would an infection have similarities to fenek tusk powder and korakin?

That sounded like alchemy, not magic.

The Guardian stayed quiet. He gave me time to come to the realization on my own. And when it dawned, my knees nearly gave out.

“When you told me about it, I assumed Lyssa was magic. Is it? Or do you think someone created it?”

The Guardian sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Only the Voster have magic in Calandra.”

“That we know of,” he said.

My heart began to race. “What are you saying? There are other magical beings?”

“Possibly. I’m not sure. But I intend to find out. And if someone did create it, then I’ll string the fucker from his entrails and watch him rot while the crows pick the meat from his bones.”

I grimaced. Gross. Though whoever had done this deserved to be punished. “Well, I’m going to help. Not with the entrails. But finding the source.”

The Guardian barked a dry laugh. “You’re not, actually.”

“I am.” I raised my chin. “I insist.”

“You insist.” He pushed off the railing, mocking a bow. “Forgive me, Highness, for not giving a fuck. You’re not involved in this.”

“Then you shouldn’t have told me about it in the first place. That’s on you.”

He frowned, more to himself than to me.

“Please don’t ask me to sit idly by and do nothing. Not while people are dying.”

“It’s too dangerous.”

“Even if I’m with the great and powerful Guardian?”

His nostrils flared. “Don’t ever call me that again.”

“Tell me your real name, and I won’t.”

He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Listen, I know you don’t trust me.”

“I do not.”

That pinched, but at least he was honest. “Margot always said I had a penchant for finding trouble. Well, if there is a person who created Lyssa, that person is certainly trouble. Think of me like a magnet.”

“Cross,” he warned.

“Please.” I clasped my hands together. Tonight, I was not above begging. “Let me help. Eight people died today. Seventeen in Ashmore. How many more before this is over? I can’t just wait and hope. I promise to behave. When we were on the Cutter, you said, ‘If I tell you to run, you run. If I tell you to hide, you hide.’”

“And you told me ‘No.’”

“I did. Can I amend my reply? I promise to listen. And I know now that when you give me an order, it’s so I stay safe. Please let me try to help. Don’t shut me out. I’m so tired of being the last to know what everyone already does. I’m not a warrior. I’m not a scholar or healer or even a decent princess. But I’m capable. I taught myself how to whistle. How to shoot a crossbow with marginal accuracy. I haven’t cut myself with my own knife or sword. I can help. I want to help. Please?”

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.

Well, here I was, offering to share the load.

“Fine.”

My jaw dropped. Really? Had that actually worked? I clapped my hands together and fought a smile. “Thank you.”

“I’m going to regret this.”

“Probably.” I backed away for the door, about to duck inside before he could change his mind.

“Odessa, wait.”

It wasn’t his order that made me stop.

It was my name.

I was always Cross or Sparrow or my queen. But rarely Odessa.

I’d never loved my name more.

“Thank you. For saving those children.” He put both hands over his heart and bowed. Then he slipped into his treehouse, closing the door.

And my rope ladder? It stayed attached. All night long.