A Breath of Sunlight Read online

  “Calle!” she shouted, but the chaotic din drowned her voice.

  Her feet slipped. In an attempt to catch herself, she dropped one of her daggers. Two men rushed at her at the same time. She sliced one across the chest, her blade scraping against bone, and stabbed the other through his eye socket. By the time she turned, her dagger was gone.

  A hulking mass of a man charged at her. She ducked beneath the swing of his mace and stabbed her dagger upward through his ribs.

  It got stuck.

  The man stumbled over the edge of the cliff, taking her dagger with him.

  It was as if time moved slowly when the crow illusion broke enough for her to spot Calle locked in battle with two opponents. By the way he struggled to keep up with their blows, he was going to lose.

  She turned and spotted Arlo watching the battle with amusement on his face. He was convinced he would win. And he would.

  Unless...

  Unless Calle got his magic back.

  With trembling fingers, she pulled the bow off her shoulders, strung her only arrow, pulled back the string, and let it loose.

  It whizzed through the air and struck Arlo in his grinning mouth. He fell backward at the same moment a sword entered her side. A wave of fiery pain gripped her. Her head spun, and the men and crows around her became a haze.

  She fell...

  Fell...

  Fell...

  Until the ground smacked into her back. Feet trampled her wings.

  And the world became dark.

  A surge of energy burst through Calle as if a dam broke. Strength returned to his body. Magic pulsed and pushed against every inch of his core until the heat burned him too much to keep it inside.

  Golden magic exploded on all sides of him, burning everything it touched. The men around him screamed as they caught fire before falling over dead. Many more jumped over the edge of the cliff as if to douse the flames in the unforgiving sea below. With his magic returned to him, he threw aside his sword and instead fought with streams of golden magic.

  He felt powerful. Unstoppable. Like a force of nature.

  When his opponents began to flee toward the safety of the woods, he started to chase after them.

  Only to realize the expectant flutter of wings didn’t follow.

  Panic effectively smothered his magic like a flame without oxygen as his gaze darted around the cliffside. Dozens of bodies lay on the ground. Blood soaked much of the once-green grass.

  And then the flash of white punched the air out of his lungs. His entire body froze at the sight of Skaja unmoving on the ground.

  He gasped in a ragged breath when it felt as if a knife slashed his heart open and let him bleed out. Tears stung his eyes. His feet broke through the ice of his shock as he stumbled toward her.

  “Skaja!” he cried, shaking her shoulders.

  Nothing.

  Blood covered everything from her wings to her hair to her clothing. He almost didn’t notice the thick red liquid escaping a wound in her abdomen.

  He placed his fingers against her neck to feel a faint pulse.

  She was still alive.

  His tears blinded him as he picked up her limp body in his arms. His wrist screamed in protest, but the pain was nothing compared to the festering ache in his heart.

  “Calle!” a voice shouted, and he turned his head to find his childhood friend, Joel, racing over the fallen bodies toward him.

  “Joel.” His voice didn’t work right. Everything hurt too much to speak correctly. “Help me carry her to Cian’s cottage. I need to get her somewhere safe.”

  Together, they managed to carry her back to the cottage and laid her on the kitchen table. When Joel played his flute, orbs of golden light lit up the darkness to reveal the damage done to Skaja. It was worse than he’d originally thought. The wound still bled, but her wings...

  They looked bent and broken beyond repair.

  “Help me get her cleaned up,” he ordered as he took charge and cut away the fabric of her dress nearest the wound. It had been so long since he’d used magic, but it greeted him like a long-lost friend, pleasant and eager to please.

  He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and placed his hand against the wound. His magic raced into her body, feeling, seeking, healing. He located the root of the damage and poured his magic into it.

  “Don’t die on me,” he begged.

  Perspiration dripped down his forehead and soaked his chest, both at the exertion of not using magic after so long and from fear of losing her.

  Pulse.

  Pulse.

  Pulse.

  Her heart beat far slower than it should. He could feel the very essence of her life slipping through his fingers.

  He poured even more magic into her until miraculously, it caught hold. It seemed as if hours passed as he concentrated on healing the wound, and only when it healed enough to keep her alive did he stop and move to her wings.

  Joel had cleaned the blood from her hair, body, and wings, which revealed no further wounds. For a moment, he spared a glance at his friend. He looked much older and muscular than the scrawny nineteen-year-old he used to be. His brown hair fell in waves over his ears. His bright green eyes reflected the gold from his magical orbs. His jaw was more angular, and he might even have grown a couple inches since that fateful day six years ago.

  “Do you think you can save her wings?” Joel asked, bringing his attention back to the tragic damage.

  “I don’t know. I hardly know anything about harpies. Do you?”

  “No.”

  Except over the past couple of weeks, Calle had watched how her wings moved in combat, how they stretched and glided through the air, how they bent and how they folded.

  If he did nothing, she would surely never fly again.

  Together, they stretched each wing and set the broken bones. While Joel held the wing in place, Calle reached out with his magic, healing just enough to mold the bones in place. When he could do nothing more, he poured his remaining magic into her.

  “Hand me a knife,” Calle said, gesturing to one on the counter. With the small weapon in his hand, his heart beat faster. A part of him grieved his next actions. If he followed through, he might lose her.

  But if he didn’t, he still might lose her.

  He slashed the tip of the knife against her palm. Blood dripped over her fingers and joined the pool of blood on the floor. He lifted her hand to his lips and sucked the metallic liquid into his mouth before spitting it onto the ground.

  “Scarlett Svera.” His voice shook, along with his suddenly weary left hand. “I, Calle Everdon, release you from your blood oath.” He caressed her pale and unconscious cheek with the back of his finger and whispered, “You are free.”

  “This is her,” Joel murmured. “Typheal’s daughter.”

  Calle nodded, not trusting his voice. Skaja looked so broken and battered, even in his oversized shirt Joel had changed her into. Her chest rose and fell with each breath, but still, she did not wake.

  They gently moved her to the bed, careful not to jostle her wings. From there, he poured the rest of his magic into her until the well dried and flickered out for the night with nothing to fuel it.

  “You saved our lives,” Calle said when his heart calmed a fraction. He wrapped a scrap of white fabric around Skaja’s hand to bind the small wound. “Thank you, Joel. Really.”

  His friend shrugged. “It wasn’t me. I just provided the distraction. Scarlett lost her weapons in the brawl and used her only arrow to kill Arlo.”

  Emotion clogged his throat, and he blinked back the moisture in his eyes. Skaja had risked her life to set him free.

  “She goes by Skaja now,” he said, not able to tear his gaze away from her unconscious face. “How did you find us?”

  “Typheal brought me back to Heulwen and sent me to you. When I didn’t find you here at the cottage, I went out looking. I...” Joel cleared his throat and glanced away as a guilty grimace pulled on his features. “I found you. But you were a bit...busy, so I thought to come back later when I saw Arlo’s men.” Joel’s green gaze met his own. “I apologize for hitting you with a rock. I wanted to warn you about the danger without giving away my position.”

  Calle rubbed his throbbing shoulder after the reminder of what he’d first assumed was Skaja hitting him. “You always had impeccable aim with slingshots.”

  “And you always were a showoff with your magic.”

  “Me? You were the one creating fancy illusions for the ladies at court.”

  The two of them laughed together, but Calle quickly sobered as he glanced toward Skaja once more. When she began shivering, he draped several blankets over her and held her hand for a long moment.

  “I’m not sure I like the summer solstice,” he said quietly as he brushed an errant strand of hair away from her face. “It felt like history was repeating itself.”

  Joel gestured to Skaja. “Because you fell in love again.”

  “No, that’s not—”

  But he stopped himself just as quickly when he realized Joel was right. When he fell in love, he fell fast and hard. He’d been trying to hold back his growing feelings, but somehow, they still managed to punch him in the chest. If he lost Skaja, he would be absolutely devastated.

  Joel’s hand on his shoulder startled him. “You look awful. Go get washed up and changed. I’ll watch over her.”

  His gaze traveled down his bloodied clothes. Red flecks dotted his skin, dry and crusted. He tried not to think about whose blood it was, especially because some of it belonged to Skaja.

  “Then you’d better watch from a distance. If she wakes and sees you, you’re a dead man. Even if she’s injured.”

  He looked down at her sleeping face for a moment, wishing for th
e sun to rise faster to give him the strength to help her again. If only he had been faster. If only he hadn’t been so foolish as to leave the safety of the cottage. If only he knew more about Cian’s medicinal herbs to better care for her.

  He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. But when tears pricked his eyes, he turned around quickly and exited the cottage.

  Sweetness lingered in the air, but each breath he took tasted rancid. He shucked off his clothes and dipped himself into the frigid pond. With Joel no longer watching, a wave of emotions crashed into him. Despair. Guilt. Sadness. Love. They trailed down his face and dripped into the pool. He hadn’t been so panicked and heartbroken in, well, six years.

  Releasing Skaja from the blood oath had been the right decision. That way she wouldn’t make any more foolish choices to keep him alive.

  Blood crusted his left arm, and when he washed it off, his heart jumped in surprise when he noticed the slave brand had disappeared completely. He truly was free.

  And it was all thanks to Skaja.

  She had saved him from death multiple times. She had freed him from his slave bonds. He owed her everything.

  Skaja’s body swayed as if she lay on a raft in the middle of the sea. The gentle rhythm of the waves pulled her further out into the water until sunshine rained on her face. She shifted to better feel the warmth, but all too suddenly, it transitioned into blazing fire. The raft burst into flames, scorching and searing and burning.

  She gasped and bolted upright, only to cry out at the pain in her wings. The sudden scene change from ocean to cottage jarred her into momentary panic.

  Calle’s head shot up from where it rested on the edge of the bed beside her. His bleary eyes quickly found hers. “Skaja,” he said in a raspy voice. “Thank the stars.”

  Her heart pounding, she glanced around to find herself back at the cottage rather than lying in a field of blood. Daylight streamed in from the window, a stark contrast to the midnight skies she last remembered.

  Confusion pulled on her features as she glanced down at herself, only to discover she wore someone else’s clothing. It smelled distinctly of forest and sunshine. Calle’s shirt...

  When the pain in her wings became too great, she slumped back against the pillow as her gaze traveled to where hers and Calle’s hands connected. She stared at the tendrils of golden light that swirled around each of their wrists.

  Magic.

  Calle had gotten his magic back.

  Images of the fight flashed across her mind. Arlo’s men trapping them against the cliffside. Fighting side by side. Shooting Arlo. And then the black void of darkness.

  Her gaze once more met his. “I thought I was supposed to be dead.”

  The grip on her hand tightened as he shook his head. “You made a wise but foolish choice by killing Arlo. It released me from my slave bond and returned my magic. But you were badly injured. I can’t...” A pause as he swallowed, and when he spoke again, the thick, watery tone disappeared in favor of an intimate rasp. “I couldn’t allow you to do something like that again. I released you from your blood oath.”

  She blinked several times as she tried to comprehend his words. “What does that mean?” she asked quietly despite her heart pounding far too loudly. For the first time, she noticed something had shifted within her. She felt lighter. The intense desire to protect had vanished, but in its place remained a deep-rooted worry.

  He confirmed her suspicions. “You are no longer bound to me. Not as a guard. Not as a protector. Nothing. You are free.” A flicker of uncertainty passed across his eyes, and she wondered if he was worried she might try to kill him and succeed this time. Or...if he was worried she might leave.

  To know he had released her without her permission created a deep ache within her. A surprisingly deep ache. They weren’t bound anymore.

  I like being bound to you, she admitted only to herself.

  “You shouldn’t have released me, Calle. How does that serve you at all? What do you gain from it?”

  “I hope you are never forced to choose between my life and yours again. I also hope to gain your trust. And...” He swallowed again, shifting closer from where he sat in a chair beside the bed. The amber of his eyes enthralled her, melting her like wax in the hot summer sun. “I want to earn your affection without an oath in the way of our relationship.”

  Relationship...

  Heat seared her face like a hot brand, and as hard as she tried to break eye contact, she found herself powerless against his captivating stare.

  “Valkyries don’t form relationships with men,” she murmured finally.

  “They also don’t save their lives or escort them to safety.” His mouth lifted in a devastating grin. “Or kiss them.”

  She scowled past her blush. “I will smack you.”

  “And you won’t have anything holding you back either. Try to go easy on me.”

  Pushing aside the playful banter, she grimaced when her wings burned once more as she shifted. But a cooling relief battled against the pain. She glanced down at their hands, and more specifically, his magic touching her, threading through the very fibers of her spirit. A warmth. A gentle caress. “You’re healing me.”

  He nodded. “I’m doing my best. It’s been a while since I’ve used magic. I’m a bit rusty.”

  A grateful sigh escaped her as she leaned back into the pillows and closed her eyes while focusing on Calle’s gentle touch. The magic that flowed through her had his distinct feel. Attentive. Gentle. Kind. Charming. Despite the silence between them, it felt as if their spirits intertwined and communicated in an intimate way.

  Opening her eyes, her gaze passed across the shadows beneath his eyes. “How long have you been doing this?”

  Giving her a shrug, he rubbed his eyes with his free hand. “Hours. But I’m afraid if I stop, your wings won’t heal properly. I can’t risk you never flying again. I’ll happily give up a bit of sleep for you.”

  Emotion lodged in her throat. “But won’t your magic run out?”

  A bright smile spread across his face as he motioned to the sunlight streaming into the room from the open window. It bathed him in a brilliant light. “Not if I have a constant source of energy. However, come nightfall... My well of magic will dry up.” A jolt shocked her heart when he leaned down and brushed a kiss against her hand before he rested his forehead against her arm. “Thank you for this gift.”

  She knew he meant restoring his magic, but she couldn’t help but think many more layers weaved into his words.

  After a few moments, he lifted his head and said, “So...how was it?”

  “How was what?”

  “Our kiss yesterday.”

  A shy smile lifted her lips as she stared at anything but his face. The bed sheet. Their connected hands. The freckle on his thumb. “I’ve never kissed a man before.” She briefly glanced up at him before lowering her gaze. “I liked it. Very much.”

  She finally gained the courage to meet his eye, only to find his expression soft and filled with a fond warmth. He opened his mouth as if to say something when the door opened and hit the wall with a loud crash.

  Calle jumped to his feet but continued to hold tight to her hand.

  “Sorry,” a man grimaced, one with similar ears to Calle’s. “I expected the door to have a little more resistance.” He quietly closed the door behind him.

  “Bloody crows, Joel!” Calle shouted as he gestured to the sword leaning against the nearby wall. “I was ready to run you through. Can you not knock first?”

  “Knock?” Joel grinned as he looked between the two of them. “Is there something going on here?”

  Skaja looked questioningly at Calle. “Another friend of yours?” In another life, her first reaction would be to kill him. But the urge fled her completely.

  “Yes.”

  Joel fingered a flute, his shoulder resting against the wall. He grinned. “I see how it is. I’ll stay in the village tonight and you two can share the cottage.”

  “It’s not like that!” she sputtered, her face blushing crimson.

  When she glanced at Calle, she caught him nodding and mouthing yes, it is, but he quickly started to shake his head and mouth no when he noticed her attention on him. She scowled through her fluster.

  “Hello, I’m Joel. I would shake your hand, but I was told in doing so, I would meet an untimely end.”