Shield of Sparrows

The sun was setting on the longest day I could remember. Yesterday’s fire seemed a lifetime ago.

Ransom and I had stayed in Ravalli after the king left with his men. We’d watched as Samuel Hay’s house burned into a pile of charred rubble.

The coals had been too hot to wade through the ashes to search for anything salvageable. The only things that had survived, beyond the Hays themselves, were the armfuls Samuel and Ransom had carried out the door. Those meager belongings were now loaded into the rickety wagon that tumbled along the trodden path toward Ellder.

Ahead, Ransom led the way back to the fortress, his pace slow for the wagon. At my side, Samuel and Jonas were leaving one home in search of another.

We all smelled like smoke. It clung to my clothes and hair. My eyes were scratchy and dry.

Our small caravan had ridden into the night until we’d made a somber camp. Then, at first light this morning, we’d continued the slow journey to Ellder.

Many people in Ravalli had begged the Hays to stay. To rebuild. But Samuel was heartbroken. It was etched into every line of his face. He needed time to recuperate. To let his arm heal from the lionwick’s attack. To get over the hacking cough that came from breathing in too much smoke.

I had a feeling that once he recovered, the Hays wouldn’t stay in Turah for long.

His neighbors in Ravalli hadn’t let them leave empty-handed. They’d offered extra food, clothing, and supplies. The wagon hitched to their gray mare was loaded to the brim. Jonas sat atop a crate behind his father, who held the reins.

The ride through the river valley had been eerily quiet. We’d seen no other travelers. No animals. Not even the birds seemed to chirp as they soared overhead. A cloud hung above us like a poisonous fog, chasing joy away.

Every time I thought about Ramsey, my rage would return. My teeth hurt from grinding them too hard.

Faze squirmed in his carrier, more than ready to roam free. He’d have the chance as soon as we reached Ellder.

We wouldn’t be making a stop at the pony rider outpost.

“Not yet,” I said, scratching his head.

“I could hold him,” Jonas said. “If you want.”

“Sure.” I nodded, inching Freya closer to the edge of the wagon. Then, with both hands, I handed Jonas my tiny monster, hoping it would do them both some good. “Here’s his bottle.”

The boy took it after I fished it from my satchel, and because I had nothing else to do, because if I kept replaying that encounter with Ramsey I’d scream, I took out my journal.

Freya didn’t need me to guide the way. She’d follow Ransom.

As I opened the journal’s flap, I was careful to keep the loose pages tucked inside. Last night, in the solitude of my room, I’d taken them out and spread them across the floor until they’d formed my map.

For weeks, I’d been creating a map.

Now that I knew it was forbidden, that I was risking execution, I praised Ferious for his inspiration on this particular project. It must have been the God of Mischief’s guidance that had made me disguise my map.

Rather than draw it on a single page, I’d used the edges and corners of many. They overlapped, fitting together like a puzzle.

If anyone did find my journal, they’d find drawings of monsters and treehouses and mountains and towns, each bordered with a few embellishments that looked like nothing on their own. But put together, lined up and overlapped just right, it was Turah.

Last night, I’d added a star for Ravalli. A winding line for this trail. And a single tick mark for a lionwick with Lyssa.

I had no way to know if my map was accurate. No way to plot Allesaria on these pages. That mission seemed bleak today. Pointless. So I turned to a fresh page and began a drawing of Faze.

“What are you working on?” Samuel asked.

“Oh, just a sketch.” I held it up so he could see the rough outline of Faze’s face.

“That’s quite a likeness. You have a talent.”

Had anyone ever called me talented? Not a mentor or teacher. Not Father. Not Margot. My drawings annoyed them. Another day, I would have beamed. Today, any show of pride was stifled by our solemn mood.

“Thank you.” I gave him a smile, then tucked the journal away. Not even sketching could take my mind off that fire. “I’m sorry, Samuel.”

It wasn’t my fault, my apology to make, but I’d said those words a dozen times today.

“So am I.” He glanced over his shoulder to his son playing with Faze. “All that matters is that Jonas is safe.”

“And so are you.”

“Because of him.” His eyes flooded with tears as he pointed to Ransom. “I sent Jonas out while I tried to grab everything I could carry. Some of his clothes. What we kept of Emsley’s. Her diaries. A portrait and her wedding ring. Her favorite shawl. The booties she knitted for Jonas when he was a baby. I was leaving my bedroom when the fire spread across the hallway floor. The smoke was so thick. So dark.”

A cough ripped from his mouth, and he doubled forward, hacking until it passed.

“Papa?” Jonas held Faze tight as he stared at his father.

“I’m all right, son.” Samuel forced a smile as he sipped from a canteen—a gift from the Ravalli blacksmith. Then he breathed for a few minutes until the fit passed. “The Guardian walked through the fire. And I swear to you, Princess, those flames shied away. He picked me up, smashing everything in my arms between us, and carried us through the house until we reached the door. I dropped half my pile when he set me on my feet, and I left it behind. Decided it wasn’t worth the risk. But he collected it all, every piece, and saved it. Saved me.”

Could Ransom withstand flames? Was that Lyssa? Or was he simply unafraid? Was he willing to burn to save a father’s life?

“I’ve heard the rumors. The tales,” Samuel said, his voice low. “Jonas believed the legends, but I was always skeptical. They were true. He isn’t a normal man. He really is a Guardian.”

“Yes, he is.”

“You’re lucky to have him at your side.”

“That I am.”

Samuel looked like he had more to say, but instead, he dissolved into another fit of coughs.

Not wanting him to strain his voice, I urged Freya forward until we were at Ransom’s side.

“How is he?”

I shrugged. “Sad, as expected.”

Ransom exhaled. “As expected.”

“But grateful. For you.”noveldrama

He shifted in his seat like the praise made him uncomfortable.

“I’m going to ask you questions now,” I said.

“You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t come armed with questions. Honestly, I’m starting to feel like the weapons are unnecessary.”

This. This was what I needed to chase away some of the fog. Bickering with Ransom.

“How did you get your nickname?” I’d heard stories in Quentis of how he’d slain monsters across Calandra. Of how he’d killed a band of Laine warriors who’d raided Turan border towns. Of how he’d rescued an orphanage from an avalanche.

It was probably all true. But I wanted to hear it from Ransom.

I wanted to know how the man who’d murdered Banner’s brother over a woman could have been proclaimed the protector of Turah.

There was more to what had happened with Banner’s brother, wasn’t there? A piece of the story I was missing.

Ransom wasn’t a murderer. I’d only ever seen him raise his weapons to monsters. To defend his people.

So what had really happened with Banner’s brother? I had a hunch it had everything to do with his nickname.

“I was in Westor, on the coast,” he said. “A port on the Krisenth. It was the year I was bitten. Lyssa didn’t even have a name at that point. Only the Voster knew what had happened, how I’d changed. The High Priest was still trying to understand the infection. And I’d been following rumors of vicious monsters with green blood. Hunting for the bariwolf that bit me.”

“Did you ever find it?”

“Yes.” He paused. “In Ashmore.”

“What?” I gaped. “How do you know?”

“Because I took its eye the day it bit me.”

A one-eyed bariwolf.

The monster that had escaped.

“Oh, gods.” I signed the Eight.

That monster was still out there, hunting. Killing. Infecting others.

Was that why its pack was so large? I didn’t know enough about bariwolves. Were they that intelligent?

Ransom waved it off. “There was a girl in Westor, maybe thirteen or fourteen. Her mother was a widow, and she let out the spare room in their home to travelers. Not exactly the safest choice, inviting strange men into their home, but it was better than the alternative.”

Inviting strange men into her body.

“The girl went to the market the day after I arrived and never came home. Her mother was sick with worry. By nightfall, she was certain her child was dead. I went and found her.”

“Alive?”

He nodded. “She’d caught the attention of the wrong group of men. The kind that have no qualms about luring young girls to their ships.”

My insides twisted, and I wasn’t sure I wanted the rest of this story.

“The man who’d taken her had taken three others.”

“He was kidnapping and selling them, wasn’t he?”

“Probably. I didn’t give him a chance to explain before I crushed his throat.”

Gruesome. But deserved. “Good. And that’s how you became the Guardian?”

He dragged a hand through his hair. “The girl’s mother called me a guardian. Others heard. It all but carried on the wind.”

“And floated all the way to Quentis.”

“I’m not surprised. There are countless warriors and soldiers in Calandra, but the names of the best are widely known. Especially in royal circles.”

“Who is the best in Quentis?”

“Banner.” No hesitation. “His skill with throwing knives is unmatched.”

It had been a while since I’d heard that name. In another lifetime, I’d stood on my cliffside, begging Banner not to seek revenge against the Guardian.

I’d believed Banner’s story. Why wouldn’t I? Except now that I knew Ransom, I couldn’t imagine him killing so violently, crushing another man’s windpipe, over a lover’s quarrel. Banner must have been mistaken.

Gods, I hoped he’d been wrong.

“What happened with his brother?” I asked.

“I killed him.”

That, I already knew. “Why?”

“Because he was the man who took those girls in Westor.”

My hand pressed against my heart as it sank to my toes. Maybe it was naive, but I had to believe that Banner had no idea about his brother. I wanted to believe the man my father trusted hadn’t known the full truth.

Not that it really mattered. I doubted I’d ever see Banner again.

“What did you do before you were the Guardian? Before you were bitten?” I couldn’t picture him as anything other than Ransom, but he must have had an occupation.

“I was just another man at the king’s disposal.” His eyes turned distant, like it was so long ago he could barely see the man he’d been.

“What did Ramsey mean, you have a month?”

“He expects me to join him in Allesaria on the autumnal equinox.”

The date when Mae was supposed to marry Zavier. “Why?”

“Because he’s a fucking piece of filth.”

“I won’t argue with that,” I said. “But that still doesn’t answer my question.”

“He has requested my presence in Allesaria to act as his general.”

“Oh. Will you go?”

“No.” He answered without hesitation.

“Will he force you?”

Ransom let out a dry chuckle.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“Well, he’ll certainly try.” He tossed me a smirk. “But he won’t succeed.”

I tucked a curl behind my ear, knowing it wouldn’t stay put. That felt like a theme at the moment. Fighting the inevitable, but fighting nonetheless. “If he knows about Lyssa, why won’t he do anything to stop it?”

“I don’t know.”

Instead, Ramsey was more concerned with burning books and papermen than saving his people. My shoulders sagged, the weight of today heavy. “I hate him.”

The corner of his mouth turned up. “I told you to stay quiet today.”

“I couldn’t help myself. He made me mad.”

“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.

It lasted for only a heartbeat. Smiles faded too fast these days. “Now what?” I asked.

“Nothing has changed, Cross. The goal is the same. Kill the monsters. Find the source.”

“And a cure.”

He sighed. “There is no cure.”

I didn’t have the energy for a debate today. “Is it working? These hunts?”

“I believe it is.”

“How do you know?”

“To borrow your word…a hunch.” He looked at his cuff like he could see through the leather, through the carvings, to the scar from his bite.

I’d seen that cuff countless times, but I hadn’t really studied its markings. Some of the lines and indents weren’t as prominent as others. They’d been flattened over time. Others were lighter, fresher cuts. His recent additions. One looked so new it could have been added today.

He’d told me those markings were for the lives he’d taken. Had he gone on a recent killing spree that I didn’t know about?

There was a small diamond-shaped fleck above a square. A dashed line connected that square to another and another. And that square was surrounded with nine more diamond-shaped flecks. They were so small they must have been nicked into the leather with the tip of a knife.

Nine cuts.

For nine bariwolves at Ashmore?

Was the fresh mark from Ravalli?

What. The. Fuck.

Was that a map? Had Ransom defied the rules against charting Turah and made marks on that cuff for his kingdom?

What if all this time, what I’d been searching for was right there? Etched into that leather.

A map of Turah.

Was Allesaria on that leather?

“The reports are coming less and less,” he said, bringing me back to the conversation. “I haven’t spoken to Zavier since we left for Treow, but he’ll be in Ellder. I’ll talk to him about the source. We’ll need to start searching for the fucker who created this.”

“Zavier is in Ellder?”

“Yes.”

Dread pooled in my gut. Not the feeling a wife should have at the prospect of seeing her husband again. “That’s wonderful.”

Ransom stared at my profile, his gaze burning into my cheek. “Is it?”

“Of course.” We both knew I was a horrible liar. “I’d better check on Faze.”

I pulled on Freya’s reins, slowing her until I was beside the wagon. Then I made myself stay there for the rest of the journey, staring at Ransom’s back.

It was dark by the time we arrived at the fortress, and goose bumps covered my arms from the night’s chill.

Soldiers greeted us in the courtyard, others closing the gates at our backs. Stable boys rushed to secure our horses. And then a warrior appeared, a man I recognized from Treow, his forehead furrowed with concern.

“We didn’t expect you tonight,” he told Ransom, looking to Samuel and Jonas. The pair was standing together beside their wagon, taking it all in. “What happened?”

“Ramsey,” Ransom growled, then waved Samuel closer. “That is Samuel Hay. He’ll be staying in Ellder for the time being. Give him anything he requires.”

“I’ll see it done.” The warrior couldn’t have known about the hardships they’d faced today. About the hardships ahead. But when he faced the Hays, it was with a kind smile and warm welcome. “Come with me. I’ll show you to a place you can stay.”

“Good night,” I told Samuel. Then I took Faze from Jonas’s hold, the boy reluctant to set him free. “I’ll bring him for a visit tomorrow.”

Jonas’s chin quivered, like the boy was on the verge of more tears.

Samuel wrapped an arm around his son’s shoulders, and together, they followed the warrior down the main road, a stable boy leading their horse and wagon behind.

“Are you all right?” Ransom asked me.

“Fine.” I wrapped my arms around my waist. “Tired.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Not especially. But I’d like to say hello to Brielle and Jocelyn. Where are they staying?”

“The servants’ quarters at Zavier’s. Do you know where it is?”

“Evie showed me.” She’d given me a thorough tour of the house, showing me every room, including those that were not hers to share.

“Cross, I—” Ransom snatched my hand, stopping me before I could leave. The touch sent a spark through my veins. The calluses on his palms felt like a dream on my skin. I didn’t want them on just my hand.

He stared at me, hazel eyes reflecting the torchlight, and there it was again. The look of a man who was trying to figure out what to say.

I waited. And waited. And waited. “What?”

“Nothing.” He dropped my hand, dragging his own over his face. “Good night, my queen.”

My shoulders sagged. “Good night, Ransom.”

I felt his gaze on my shoulders as I walked away, my footsteps heavy as I took the familiar path to the house.

Faze squirmed in my hold, but I kept him on my arm as we headed toward Zavier’s and the servants’ quarters on the main floor. Each room had its own door, giving the staff their own privacy to come and go as they pleased.

I rounded the corner of the house but came to an abrupt stop when I saw a man in the open doorway of the first apartment.

He wasn’t alone.

A woman was in his arms, her lips on his as they kissed. She was as lost in him as he was in her.

His arms were banded around her tight, hiking up the hem of her tunic to reveal her bare legs and the curve of her naked ass. He was tall and dark and handsome. When he let her go, he pushed the blond hair away from her pretty face. Then he glanced over her head, shuffling himself and Jocelyn out of the doorway.

For their other companion to step outside.

He was in the middle of pulling a shirt over his head. Strange that this was the moment I saw my husband’s bare chest for the first time. We’d been married for nearly two months. And now I knew the reason he didn’t visit my bed.

He’d been in Jocelyn’s instead.

A distant conversation, from a tent in the Turan wilds, clawed its way to the forefront of my mind.

Zavier likes to share.

He’d been sharing Jocelyn.

Faze let out a rawr.

Three faces whipped in my direction.

The color drained from Zavier’s face.

“Highness.” Jocelyn covered a gasp with her hand. “You’re—”

Done.

I was very, very done with this fucking day.