A Breath of Sunlight Page 11

  She inhaled sharply, and her body stiffened, but she still didn’t retreat.

  Continuing, he said, “Our parents often joked that I would choose you as my bride when I turned twenty-one because of how often I sought you out. But then...” A storm of emotion clouded his memories, and the room grew colder despite the roaring fire in the hearth. “You were in the courtyard, but then suddenly...you were gone. Your parents were frantic. The entire palace searched for you for a long time. Months. Years. They left no kingdom untouched.”

  “I always thought...” She shivered against him, but he didn’t dare pull her any closer in fear she would retract from him completely. “I always thought they abandoned me. Paula led me to believe it. I feel...cheated. Betrayed. So very confused.”

  The pain in her voice constricted his heart. “You certainly weren’t abandoned. You were very loved.” Another wave of heartache crashed into him as he recalled their despair. “They were never quite the same afterward. Never had another child. Withdrew from many activities with my family. At least until my parents were killed in a shipwreck when I was sixteen. They took it hard and often blamed themselves for not being there with them. The two of them became family after the incident, as if they were my own parents.”

  He shifted to hide his gathering emotions when she glanced up at him. He cleared his throat and continued. “I knew something awful was going to happen the day Nyana was killed. I told them to let Liam have his way with me. I knew it would put them in danger if they interfered. They fought by my side despite my plea.”

  “What happened to them?” she asked hoarsely.

  His gaze darted to the plume of white feathers sticking out of the blanket. “Avonia was allowed to remain working at the palace. Typheal’s wings were...taken, and Liam cast him out of the kingdom and branded him as a traitor.”

  Skaja’s eyes widened in horror, and this time she pulled away from him and climbed to her feet as if to put distance between them. “They severed his wings?”

  The alarm in her expression kept him from nodding, but she must have taken his silence as acknowledgement. All too suddenly, her shock turned to anger. A part of him expected her to slap him, but her hand remained within the confines of the blanket.

  “Why didn’t you release them from their blood oath?” Her voice hitched, on the verge of shouting.

  Knowing her temperament, he forced his own voice to remain calm and steady. “To offer is considered an insult, Skaja. Harpies are...prideful...and they consider it an honor to serve. If your parents wanted to be released, they would have made a formal request in front of the council.”

  “Why would anyone want to serve the likes of you and Liam?” she shouted. “Paula was right to take me away. I could never serve a monster against my will.”

  Monster...

  The likes of you and Liam...

  No one had ever compared him to his brother in such a way. Pain slammed its fists against his heart as he stared back at Skaja in the stony silence of the cottage. When the fire crackled in the hearth, they both jumped.

  The pain in his chest festered like a bleeding sun. But still he tried his best to remain calm. “Skaja, I know you’re angry, though I’m not sure why your anger is directed at me. What have I done to warrant being a monster?”

  “I didn’t mean you.” She twisted a ring on her finger, and he caught the faintest glimpse of gold. “But you could have helped them.”

  Now it was his turn to place his head in his hands. “You don’t know Liam. He’s worse than he sounds.” He rubbed the sudden ache in his temples. “Harpies swear themselves to fealty to protect the royal family. What happens when two brothers are trying to kill each other? Whose side do they take? Who do they protect? Each harpy had to make a decision. I can’t imagine it was easy.” He lifted his head and met her eye. “What was I supposed to do, Skaja? They made their choice. But in the end, I couldn’t help them. I couldn’t even help myself.”

  “Because Liam sent you to the Pits.”

  He nodded. “My brother would never subject me to an easy fate like death. He wanted me to suffer.”

  “And perhaps he also believed you threatened his position on the throne.” She stared down at her hand and twisted the ring on her finger again. This time he caught a glimpse of the sun star.

  He gasped and jumped up to snatch her hand. He turned the ring, so the sun star faced him. “Where did you get this?”

  When she tried to tug her hand away, he held on tighter just to make sure. Yes, this had come from Heulwen. Only those in the king’s service were allowed to keep them.

  “It’s my trophy.”

  In other words, she’d killed the man who had previously worn the ring. But why?

  As if hearing his unspoken question, she explained, “Heulwen soldiers keep attacking our home, and I wasn’t sure why until now. I think your brother knows you’re no longer in the Pits.”

  The blood drained from his face, and he finally dropped her hand. “He thinks the valkyries are keeping me prisoner?” They wouldn’t have found his body in the Pits. The next guess was either he escaped, or the valkyries had taken him. But what was Liam’s goal? To kill him and finish the job? Or to force him into a fate worse than the Pits? He couldn’t possibly imagine a more dreadful suffering.

  He felt as if he stood in the middle of a triangle, and no matter which way he turned, his enemies came at him in all directions. Liam likely didn’t know where he was, and his best guess was with the valkyries.

  “Are your valkyrie friends all right? Is anyone hurt?”

  She raised an eyebrow high and loosened her grip on the blanket until her shoulders and the top of her wings peeked out the top. “You are worried about my friends? You do realize they would sooner kill you than allow you to live?”

  “Yes, but...” His throat constricted when she allowed the blanket to drop entirely at her feet. Her beautiful wings extended halfway as if in an attempt to dry them by the fire’s glow. His gaze lingered on her bare shoulders and the metal beadwork clasped around a delicate neck.

  “But?” she urged, snapping him out of his stupor.

  His gaze darted to her eyes, and he tried his best to keep it there as he stood. “Valkyries saved my life. You saved my life. I vowed to worship the very ground a valkyrie walked on and kiss the daylights out of them.” He smirked when her gaze darted to his lips. “But I realized that would sooner earn me a blade to the gut.”

  “How very right you are.” Despite her words, he didn’t miss the flush that crawled up her neck.

  “What I’m getting at is this—valkyries have my respect. I consider you my friend. I consider all of you my friends.”

  Skaja laughed out loud, holding her belly as if she’d never heard anything funnier in her life. “You can’t be serious,” she snorted. She slowly advanced on him until she backed him up against the wall, and although she pointed a finger at his throat, he felt as if it were a dagger. “You are delusional, fae prince, if you think you can ever be friends with a valkyrie.”

  “I stand by what I said.” He held his ground and met her glower unflinchingly. “You. Are. My. Friend.”

  “I don’t make friends with men.”

  “Then why are you still here?”

  She slowly lowered her finger, and her glower transitioned into uncertainty. “I can’t go back,” she said miserably. “I can’t face Paula right now.”

  “You can stay with me.”

  “Here?” Her damp wings snapped close to her body, spraying droplets of water across the wood floor. Her gaze traveled around the small cottage, likely built with one person in mind who never received visitors. Each room was conjoined into one large one, offering very little livable space.

  Her hands rested on her hips as she spotted the bed. “I can’t stay here with you. You are a man.”

  Despite her legitimate concern, his lips twitched in amusement. “And?” He sat on the edge of the kitchen table and crossed his ankles. “I’ve been accustomed to sleeping in a rocky cave with sharp pebbles digging into my back. I think I can manage sleeping on the sofa for a bit.”

  “But...” Rain pounded on the roof in their momentary silence, and she bit her lip as she turned in another full circle. “What if your friend returns?”

  “What about it?”

  “Where would I go then?”

  Calle quirked his head to the side as he studied her. A jolt of surprise traveled through him when he realized she really didn’t want to go back. She must have been more upset about her situation than she let on.

  He pointed to the floor in front of him. “Here. You always have a place here.”

  Before she managed a reply, he crossed the room to the small desk tucked into the corner. Crisp edges and crumpled papers brushed his fingers as he searched, and the scent of ink followed his progress. Finally, his fingers closed around an opened envelope. He grimaced as he handed it to her.

  “I admit I was far too eager to hear from your parents, even if it hadn’t been meant for my eyes. Avonia—your mother,” he amended in case she forgot her name, “sent this letter to me to give to you if I saw you again.”

  “Me?” she breathed as she traced the edges of the envelope with her fingertip. “How does she know already? I only found out the truth for certain yesterday.”

  The entire universe halted when she glanced at the envelope, and then at the fire. Was she...? She wouldn’t, would she? He wasn’t sure if he could quite recite the contents of the letter by heart if she destroyed it.

  In the end, she crossed the room and gazed out at the rain pounding against the window and bathing the cottage in a clean start. Her eyes became glassy. Emotional. Uncertain.

  “If you want...I could read it to you?”

  Dri
p. Drip. Drip.

  Raindrops broke through the anxious tension as they fell into the bowls throughout the room. Skaja’s wings drooped as if in tune with her mood. Her finger traced each edge of the envelope. The somber expression on her face broke his heart in two.

  “I’m not sure I can do this.”

  “That’s fine.” He gave her an encouraging smile. “Perhaps hold onto it for a while. Think about it.”

  He started toward the door, and the moment his hand touched it, she called after him. “Where are you going?”

  Giddiness fluttered through his stomach, surprising him. He still couldn’t believe Skaja had come back. This time, he hoped she wouldn’t leave. “To get more firewood.”

  The letter inside Skaja’s pocket grew heavier with each passing minute. The rain refused to abate, which cooped her up inside far longer than she liked, with little to distract her other than the weight bearing down on her person.

  She rifled through medicinal and other types of volumes on the shelves. Several books lay open on the kitchen table about the properties of magical brands. Was Calle trying to find a way to remove his brand? The only ways she knew how were for his slave master to willingly release him or to kill his slave master entirely.

  She continued scouring every inch of the cottage until she knew the layout, the weaknesses, and the strengths. A floorboard beneath her foot creaked, and as she opened and closed the front door, she frowned when it made no sound. It opened far too easily for her comfort. If someone snuck inside, she likely wouldn’t know until it was too late.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  She jumped at the sudden clamor. Calle must have climbed onto the roof. Judging by the slowing pace of one of the drips from the ceiling, he was fixing the shingles.

  When she crossed the cottage, the floorboard creaked again. She knelt down, snapped open her dagger, and dug the tip of the weapon into the crack. With a couple heaves, the board came loose and revealed the valuables inside the empty space.

  Sacks of coins. Stacks of letters. A golden ring with a strange symbol on it. A jeweled dagger.

  “Too easy,” she muttered as she rifled through the letters. Typheal’s name on some of the letters shocked her. Her father. The reminder of her parents only burned her through her pocket.

  “Who owns this cottage again?” Skaja shouted, and the banging above her ceased suddenly.

  “Cian,” he called back.

  “Well, tell your friend, Cian, he should find a better hiding spot for his valuables. I found them in minutes.”

  She swore she heard him chuckle through both the layers of roof and the pounding rain.

  She continued to shamelessly rifle through Cian’s belongings. Something dark and glittery caught her attention in the furthest corner of the hiding space. Wings flattening as she dug deeper, her finger touched the corner of the object, and then another finger, until she managed to grab a hold of it. She pulled it out and inspected it.

  A book.

  Not just any book. It was heavy, and not in the normal sense. A great magic lay within its pages, some dark, some light, and some in between.

  A plume of dust tickled her nose as she blew off the top layer of grime. The book had no title, but the author’s name rested at the bottom of the cover in shimmering silver letters—Killian Graves. Beautiful gold, black, and green designs decorated the edges and spine. The dried ink sparkled when she tipped it every which way.

  The book pulsed with life, with energy. It sang beautiful ballads in her mind. It beckoned her toward the unknown. Toward the peaceful. Toward the frightening. Darkness. Light. Mystery.

  She opened it to the first page.

  A gasp of wonder caught in her throat. Each margin was hand-painted to depict images of humans, fae, beasts, and more, with numerous symbols. Roses. Stars. Fangs. Moons. Apples. Strings of gold ribbon. Mountains of silver. One page was dedicated to Heulwen’s sun star. Each of the twelve points symbolized something different, and the star as a whole symbolized strength.

  She continued leafing through the pages and soon realized the book was divided into sections. Sun Fae. Forest Fae. Ocean Fae.

  Her fingers traced over purple and silver lettering of the next section. Shadow Fae.

  The magic lying between the pages of this section pulsed with darkness. With many horrible and dreadful things. With lies and death and secrets.

  She slammed the book shut and dropped it to the floor. Her understanding of magic was minimal, but even she felt the raw, dark power within the pages.

  Another shimmer in the darkness of the hiding place caught her eye, and although her heart still thrummed in her throat, she reached for it. Her fingers closed around a stack of metal sheets. They were silver, but the images on them flickered in different shades of gold.

  Her heart constricted in surprise when the images moved as if they captured a single memory. The top sheet caught her attention. Two little boys laughed as they chased each other around a tree, though she couldn’t hear the accompanying sound. They stopped suddenly, and the taller of the two wrapped his arm around the other. They couldn’t have been more than five or six years old.

  Without needing confirmation, she recognized the younger of the two as Calle. He had the same haircut as he did now, shoulder-length with two braids on either side of his face. But the boy next to him was unfamiliar. A friend, perhaps?

  Though, she couldn’t begin to guess which one. He apparently had innumerable friends.

  “That’s me and Liam, if you can believe it,” a voice said over her shoulder.

  Blindingly fast, Skaja reached for her lone dagger and snapped it open. The tip of the blade touched Calle’s chest. His eyes widened, and he slowly held his hands up placatingly. “Never sneak up on a valkyrie,” she warned as she sheathed her weapon.

  The door needed rusty hinges, she decided. She hadn’t heard him enter the cottage.

  She bit her lip when she realized she all too easily let her guard down around him. Something about him made her feel comfortable, which also created a pit of discomfort.

  Like the first time she’d seen him upon their reunion, she couldn’t help but stare. Wet, auburn hair slicked across his forehead. His damp clothes clung to defined muscles—muscles she was positive hadn’t been there two months earlier. And his amber eyes suddenly became hot liquid, ensnaring her in its molten lava.

  Her wings ruffled as a shiver ran through her, and only when she forced herself to break eye contact did her wits return to her. This feeling was...unfamiliar. Strange. Admittedly pleasant.

  And wholly unwelcome.

  She returned her attention to the metal memory. “But you two look so happy.”

  “We were.” He settled down beside her, so close, but not touching. “I was five years old then. I came into my magic at age six. At first, Liam was excited, because he thought he too would come into his own magic. He didn’t. Each year that passed, he became more and more bitter toward me.”

  “Magic put a wall between the two of you.”

  He nodded. “A very tall, sturdy wall.”

  She flipped to the next metal sheet to find a lovely young woman with long curls and big eyes. Her large smile literally caused flowers to open their petals as she bent to sniff their fragrance.

  Beside her, Calle stiffened. “I’d rather not watch this one.”

  “Why not?” She turned to find him gazing at the wall with a troubled expression on his face. But when she returned her attention to the image, her question was quickly answered. A younger Calle snuck up behind the woman, his smile larger than the moon itself as he pressed a rose to her lips from behind. And just as quickly, he sauntered off as if he didn’t want to get caught in the act. The young woman stared after him dreamily.

  “Nyana...” she murmured, remembering the name of Calle’s deceased sweetheart. “Whose memories are these?”

  He flexed his fingers and then moved to play with an errant thread on his damp shirt. “They’re mine—some of my more favorite memories. I captured them with my own magic, though in a slightly different perspective. I didn’t realize someone had saved them from Liam.”