Shield of Sparrows

Brielle sat on the edge of my bed, frowning as she watched me comb out my wet hair. “This is the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

She wasn’t wrong.

“I have to try,” I told her.

“What happens when we get caught?”

“They’ll probably lock me in this treehouse and you in yours.” My rope ladder would likely stop reappearing each morning, and I’d be trapped in this room forever.

But I wasn’t letting the fear of getting caught stop me from my plan. I might not be a great spy or princess or warrior, but I had some practice at sneaking out.

Brielle was my unwilling accomplice. We’d decided to keep Jocelyn out of the fray so she could claim ignorance if—when—we got caught.

“What if you get eaten by a lionwick or bariwolf?” she asked.

“Then you get to go home.”

“Highness.” She flinched. “Don’t talk like that. And don’t do this. It’s too risky.”

I gave her a sad smile. “I have to. I have to try.”

She hesitated for a moment. “Why?”

Because if I quit now, what kind of person did that make me?

My father might not be an affectionate man. He was hard and strict and unyielding. But he was fair, and above all else, he served his people. His crown. His kingdom.

Maybe I didn’t know all of the details, but I had faith he’d given me this task for a good reason. I had faith that he wasn’t a murderer or a conqueror. That if he did send his troops to Turah, it wouldn’t be to viciously slaughter the innocent.

He hadn’t said he was planning a war. He’d said he needed to find Allesaria. That he needed a way to enter the city. That he wanted to find a way to break the Shield of Sparrows and set me free.

If I were a better princess, a selfless princess, the notion of freedom wouldn’t be so appealing.

What would I do if my life was my own? What would I do if I could break away from this marriage to Zavier? If the key to saving my people didn’t rest on my shoulders?

Who would I become if I wasn’t at the mercy of men?

An adventurer? A voyager? A writer? An artist who traveled the realm and never cared that her fingertips were stained with charcoal or paint?

Not once in my life had I let myself dream of those possibilities. Not once had I been given the luxury of dreams. If I could be anything in this realm, who would I become?

I wanted to find out.

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.

And in doing so, maybe I’d set myself free.

No more bride prize, and no more Sparrows.

Would I fail? Probably. But maybe, just maybe, I’d find a way. For myself. And for the next princess who wanted a choice.

I was more capable than my family expected. I was more than I’d let myself believe. There was a girl inside me who’d once found the courage to jump off a cliffside. That girl had been stifled and smothered. Hidden except for those stolen moments of bravery.

It was time to let her stretch her wings and fly.

I tossed my comb on the bed beside Brielle. “They might not have said it, but my family expects me to fail. There’s a reason my father chose Mae instead of me to be the Sparrow. And I think, in my heart, when I left Roslo, I expected to fail, too. I’m tired of being shoved to the wayside. I’m tired of being dismissed. I’d like to prove to them, to myself, that I am more than a token to be traded.”

Brielle’s eyes softened. “You want their love.”

“I don’t know if they’re able to love.” Probably not in the way that Brielle’s family loved her. “I’d settle for their confidence and trust. Maybe a little faith that I’m not entirely useless.”

That maybe I could be a queen.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re useless or a failure,” Brielle said. “And I trust you.”

That was sweet. “Thank you. I trust you, too.”

Enough that over the past four days, I’d told her about my plan to spy. How Father had tasked me with entering Allesaria. How he’d asked me to learn about the Guardian’s powers. When I’d told her that he’d asked me to kill the Guardian, Brielle had been gracious enough not to laugh.

There were still secrets between us. I hadn’t told her that Zavier could speak. I hadn’t shared about Evie. But I’d confided everything else.

“Are you sure you don’t want to wait?” she asked. “They might still take us to Allesaria.”

I shook my head. “They won’t. We’ll be in Ellder for the migration. And the Guardian already suspects I’m spying for Father.”

“Which you are.”

“Which I am. The crux are coming. If we had years, I’d think of another plan. But I might not get this chance again.”

I went to the small mirror mounted on the wall beside the bath, taking in my riot of curls. The red and orange spirals were bright beneath the skylights, the strands drying quickly from the warmth of the afternoon.

With the exception of Brielle and Jocelyn, everyone in Treow knew me with brown hair. And with the exception of Brielle and Jocelyn, everyone in Treow who knew me best was gone.

Zavier had left the encampment four days ago with Evangeline and Luella. Tillia and Halston had accompanied them to wherever it was they were going, acting as their guards.

The Guardian was gone, too.

Even Cathlin had left the encampment and its empty library. Brielle had been tasked with cleaning out her vacant treehouse.

They’d all left four days ago, after the Guardian had returned from hunting “sick” monsters.

Maybe they’d felt Evie would be safer elsewhere. Maybe Zavier had surprised his daughter with a getaway trip to Perris. Maybe they’d lassoed a crux and were riding it to the twin moons.

All I knew was that they’d left without so much as a wave goodbye.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that I’d been left behind. To the Turans, I was no one important. I was an outsider. A second thought. A ward in need of watching.

A bug to be kept locked in a glass jar.

It was surprisingly similar to the life I’d lived in Quentis.

Well, I’d snuck out of Father’s castle, crawling with guards, plenty of times. I could sneak out of this damn encampment, too.

“I’m praying to Daria her luck is on our side,” Brielle said.

“So am I.”

It hadn’t taken long for me to hatch this plan—only one sleepless night. It was probably too simple, but I was giving it a shot nonetheless. Sometimes, all it took was a simple plan.

“What will you try to find?” she asked.

“Anything.” Any hint of Allesaria. I wasn’t holding my breath that I’d find a map, but there had to be one somewhere in this godsdamn kingdom.

Ashmore seemed as good a place as any to start my search.

I just had to get there.

Ashmore was the closest town to Treow. And the merchant who delivered supplies to the encampment’s mercantile was my best chance at getting past the watchtowers.

I twisted my curls into a knot and pinned it to the base of my skull. Then I grabbed a gray satin scarf from the armoire, fitting it over my forehead and tying it around my hair. “Is it all covered?”

Brielle nodded, collecting my satchel from the bed and bringing it over. “Do you have plenty of coin?”

“Yes.” Enough gold to rent a room at an inn for myself in Ashmore. Enough gold to bribe a traveler to smuggle me back into Treow in a few days’ time. “You remember what to say if anyone asks where I am?”

“Yes. Your monthly cycle has arrived, and you’re ill. You asked me to leave you to rest.”

“Good.” Whenever I’d mentioned my monthly cycle to men in Roslo, they’d run the other way. I was hoping that would be the case in Turah as well.

“I don’t think the Guardian is going to believe you’re sick,” she said.

I shrugged. “Probably not.”

But I’d deal with his wrath if he caught me.

For a man who swore he didn’t trust me, leaving me alone was asking for trouble. He only had himself to blame for this.

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.

“I can do this,” I told her—and myself.

Brielle’s smile was sweet and slightly disbelieving. Would she have doubted Mae? Probably not.

I looped the satchel across my chest, and then we left the treehouse for the commons.

The supply wagon was parked outside the mercantile, its cargo nearly unloaded.

The driver had arrived last night. Now that his goods were delivered, he wouldn’t linger. He came at night. Unloaded in the morning. And left. Every time. With Ashmore being a full day’s ride, he could make it back before nightfall.

“I wish you could take that horse you love so much,” Brielle whispered. “Then you’d at least have a way back.”

“Me too.”

Freya had been a comfort since I’d arrived in Treow. She was by far my favorite Turan. But people here would likely notice her disappearance before mine. Horses, I’d learned, were essential to Turan life. Hell, they’d probably mount a search party to rescue Freya and leave me to rot.

So my plan was to ride in the supply wagon.

I’d be hiding in plain sight.

Brielle and I turned away from the commons, following the path of twin wheel tracks that marked the road the supply merchant would take to leave.

We made sure we were far enough from the treehouses and buildings that no one could see us from the commons. Then, standing in the shade beneath a towering tree, we waited until we heard the sound of wheels rattling.

I squared my shoulders, about to step out to the path, when Brielle seized my hand. “Maybe I should be the person to go instead.”

“No.” This was my idea. This was my task.

And I doubted they’d kill me if I was caught. Not when I was the Sparrow.

Brielle? She was expendable.

“Besides, it’s too late to change plans.” I waved a hand at her clothes. “And you’re already dressed.”

She looked down at the pants and scowled, adjusting the waistband. “I don’t know how you wear these. They’re so tight.”

“I’ve gotten used to them.” It was amazing how quickly I’d adjusted to the Turan style. And how uncomfortable it was to don a dress again.

I pulled at the long, fitted sleeves of my gray gown, missing the loose, thin fabric of the tunics I’d been wearing lately.

Brielle was in a tunic instead, her brown hair plaited over a shoulder, similar to how I usually wore mine. Today, she was the princess.

“Here he comes.” I tugged the scarf off my hair and pulled at the pins so the curls tumbled free.

Would a woman wearing a scarf draw attention from the watchtower guards? Possibly. But a woman with vivid, wild hair? Definitely. I’d draw notice. Without question.

But I was counting on their curiosity, not suspicion.

Today, I looked nothing like Princess Odessa Wolfe, the woman who’d made it a point to ride and run and walk past every watchtower in Treow since I’d arrived.

And since everyone had left me here alone, I’d started taking a crossbow on my daily walks.

If no one was going to train me on my knives, then I’d revert to the one weapon that seemed relatively straightforward. I’d pinched my fingers more times than I could count notching the bolt into the string, but I’d been using trees for target practice. Granted, trees didn’t move like a monster or enemy, but I was missing less and less.

The guards were snickering less and less.

Today, I looked nothing like the princess who’d wave to the guards stationed above before attempting to shoot a helpless tree. The lady who fitted her fingers to her lips and practiced whistling until it finally worked.

Shades, this was a horrible plan, wasn’t it? Brielle was certain I wouldn’t make it out of the forest. She was probably right.

I should have taken the time to plot a more elaborate, believable scheme. But what if I didn’t get this chance again? What if the Guardian, Tillia, or Zavier never left me alone again? What if they took me to Ellder and trapped me behind a fortress’s walls?

This was it. This had to work.

“Ready?” I asked Brielle.

“Ready.” She nodded, then steeled her spine and lifted her nose in the air as she stepped away from the tree’s shade.

She’d spent years with royalty, observing our behaviors and mannerisms. She knew how to command attention like she was a queen herself.

At a raise of her hand, the man immediately slowed the two sorrel horses hitched to his wagon.

“Sir.”

“Yes?” he asked.

She walked to his side, pulling a coin purse from the pocket of her pants. There was enough gold in that purse for this man to buy two other horses and a wagon three times this one’s size. “My lady’s maid is in need of a ride to Ashmore. There are items that I require within the week, but she’s wary of making the journey alone. May she ride with you?”

He gave the purse a long, hard look before doing the same with me. “I won’t be returning to Treow for another seven days.”

Brielle waved her free hand. “She only requires passage to Ashmore. She’ll arrange for a ride back.”

His eyes narrowed. “What is it you’re needing? Why not request it from your shopkeeper?”

“That’s my private business.” There was an edge to Brielle’s voice that sounded eerily like a threat from Mae. Clearly, she’d learned a few things from my sister.

The man frowned, and for a heartbeat, I was certain he’d drive on. But then he reached out, snatched the purse, and set it in his lap. “Get in.”

No. Fucking. Way.

Six shades, it worked.

I darted to the wagon, nearly tripping on my skirts as I climbed onto the bench seat and settled in beside the man.

He frowned but urged on his horses, the wagon lurching as they moved.

My heart was pounding so hard it hurt when I risked a glance at Brielle. Either I’d see her in a few days. Or I’d see her in an hour when they hauled me back after catching me trying to escape.

The driver said nothing as he gave the horses more slack on the reins, the wagon lurching again as we gained more speed.

The clop of hooves drowned out the sound of my panicked, short breaths. Ahead, I picked out the boundary, finding the closest watchtower, then aimed my gaze forward.

Breathe.

My body began to tremble as we drew closer and closer.

A whistle rang through the air.

The whistle the guards made when someone was leaving, alerting the others of the departure. It was a short, shrill signal.

The moment I heard it sing through the trees, the air rushed from my lungs.

“Thank you, Daria,” I whispered.

“What was that?” the man barked.

“Nothing,” I murmured, pulling in my lips to hide a smile. The beaten path stretched before us out of the trees and onto the plains.

“There,” the driver muttered, pointing into the distance. It was the one and only word he’d spoken since leaving Treow.

I squinted as a dark spot on the horizon slowly transformed into rooflines and wooden buildings.

Ashmore.

The trip had felt endless. The wagon’s bench was uncomfortable, and the plethora of bumps in the road made my teeth shake in my skull. It had been unnerving to be out in the open again, to be unguarded. Exposed for any monster to attack.

Even with my knives strapped to my thighs beneath my skirts, I’d spent the entire ride sweeping the plains for predators.

The journey was terrifying and thrilling. It was a dive off a cliff. A leap of faith.

This was freedom.

And I was addicted.

The sun was dropping toward the horizon, and the last stretch of the trip seemed to take days, but the road finally widened as we came closer to town.

The driver pulled on the reins, slowing his team to a walk as we reached a row of wooden houses.

A little boy wearing a straw hat looked up from where he was playing in a yard of patchy grass. His mother stood in the doorway, arms crossed, expression neutral and assessing as we rolled by.

Either she didn’t like the merchant.

Or she didn’t like the looks of me.

I took out my scarf, quickly tying it over my hair.

More homes lined the road, and the closer we drew to the center of town, the closer together they were built. Most had small pens for goats and chickens. A dog leashed with a chain barked as we passed.

Tillia had told me that towns in Turah had developed different ways to protect against monsters. But Ashmore resembled the countryside towns that dotted the fields of Quentis. How did these people stay safe?

“What about monsters?” I asked the driver.

“What about them?”

“How do you keep them out of the town?”

His jaw clenched. “We don’t. Not anymore.”

Anymore? What did that mean?

Before I could ask, he tugged hard on the reins, bringing his team to a stop. Then he jerked his chin toward the road. “Out.”

He’d earned his fare, and now it was time for me to leave.

My feet had barely hit the ground when he urged on his horses. The wagon’s wheel nearly ran over my toes before I took a quick leap away.

“Thanks for the ride,” I mumbled, scowling at his back.

I straightened, smoothing the skirt of my dress. I made sure the flap on my satchel was secured, then, with a hand on its strap, I started down the streets of Ashmore.

A man carrying a spear passed by, moving toward the road. Was he going to stand watch tonight? Shouldn’t he have a better weapon? That spear looked more like a herding stick for sheep and goats, the blade only attached with twine. He had no knives or sword.

When he noticed my stare, he shot me a scowl that sent me on my way.

Ashmore wasn’t a large town, and the houses quickly made way for stores and shops. The streets were narrow, the buildings separated by cramped alleyways. And beside every door on every structure was a brass bell. Did they use those instead of knocking?

The noise of people enveloped me like a soft blanket, the sounds reminding me of the days I’d wandered the docks in Roslo. Even on the nights when the dining hall in Treow was crammed full of people, it wasn’t the same as the clamor of a town or city.

The streets were arranged in neat lines. I drew in a long breath, smelling food and horses and dirt and fires. Smoke drifted from a few chimneys, and my stomach growled, the nerves of my escape finally making way for hunger.

I’d made it. Thank the gods. I signed the Eight and pressed a hand to my heart to keep it from leaping out of my chest.

There was no way I should be here, but my silly plan had worked. My laugh was swallowed by the clatter of a different wagon coming down the street.

I walked in no hurry down the road, taking in the buildings, searching for a library or school. Ahead, in what looked to be the center of Ashmore, a hanging sign marked an inn.

I’d started crossing to the opposite side of the street, weaving past horses, wagons, and other people out walking, when a deep laugh caught my ear.

My legs locked, my feet stuck on the dry dirt. My stomach dropped.

I knew that laugh.

I knew it all too well.

Spinning in a slow circle, I braced for a blast of fury.

Of course it had been easy to get out of Treow. It had been one of the Guardian’s tests. A trap. Had he followed us to Ashmore? Had he ridden ahead to wait while the driver shuttled me across the plains?

The laugh came again, echoing over all other noise.

The Guardian stood outside the tavern, arms crossed over his broad chest as he leaned against the open door’s frame. A smile stretched his mouth, his eyes alight with humor.

But he wasn’t laughing or smiling in my direction.

His attention was locked on a beautiful woman with straw-colored hair. Her voluptuous curves strained the seams of her purple tunic and its plunging neckline. She batted her eyelashes, giving him a coy smile as she stood on her toes to whisper into his ear, earning another of his rumbling chuckles.

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?

I was standing in the middle of the street, and he hadn’t so much as blinked in my direction. I was standing in the middle of the street and—

“Shit,” I hissed, spinning around and ducking my chin. I pulled the longer ends of my curls over my shoulders, hoping that from behind, all he could see was this scarf.

A man riding a horse passed, and I rushed to catch up, moving to the other side of the animal in the hopes that it would shield me as I hurried to the inn.

What if the Guardian had no idea I was in Ashmore? What if this was a coincidence? Had he come to Ashmore to visit his lover, and I’d simply picked the wrong time to escape?

My mind was reeling, my heart trying to beat out of my chest again, this time in panic. I kept marching, face down until I glimpsed an alley out of the corner of my eye. I darted toward the space between buildings, slipping into the darkness and out of sight. Then I pressed my back against a wall, sucking in a breath.

I gave myself a few moments to calm down, then inched toward the edge of the alley, peering around the corner.

The Guardian was still at the tavern, still smiling and laughing with the blonde.

A mixture of relief and resentment surged, swirling so fast my stomach pitched. Or maybe that was from too much stress in a single day.

With his hand on the small of her back, the Guardian ushered the woman into the tavern, both of them disappearing from sight.

A sour taste spread across my tongue.

Not jealousy. Not for him.

No, this was annoyance. Pure annoyance. Annoyance so strong I couldn’t see straight. Not jealousy.

“Not at all,” I muttered, emerging from the alley.

But just because I wasn’t jealous didn’t mean I wanted to get caught. So I raced for the inn across the street, giving my best smile to the innkeeper at the desk. “Do you have any rooms available?”

Please say yes.noveldrama

He looked me up and down, a severe frown wrinkling his face as he took in my dress and headscarf. “How many nights?”

“One.” Tomorrow, no matter what, I’d be leaving Ashmore. The sooner the better. If the Guardian was this close, it was only a matter of time before he returned to Treow. There was no way I could linger, not now.

The clerk jotted down something in his notebook, then held up a finger. He ducked into a room behind the desk, taking his sweet time before he finally returned with a brass key.

“Room five. Second floor. Third door on the left.”

“Thank you. Would it be possible to have dinner sent up?”

“Yes,” he grumbled. “It’s an added charge.”

“No problem. Thank you.” I traded coin for the key, then took to the stairs, climbing to the second floor without delay.

The sooner I was safe behind my room’s door, the better.

The hallway was quiet, my boots sinking into the plush carpet. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled as I passed the other rooms, like the people inside were watching, so I quickened my steps to the third door on the left. My hand was shaking so badly it took a moment to get the key inserted into the lock.

I flung the door open, spinning inside and closing it quickly. Then I pressed my forehead to the wooden surface, exhaling as I closed my eyes. “This was a horrible idea.”

“Agreed.”

“Ah!” I yelped as I spun around.

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.