A Breath of Sunlight Page 22

  The pause this time stretched far longer than the others. He walked slowly through the corridor beyond the entrance to prevent his footsteps from making any sound. His heart pounded against his ribs. Any moment, someone might turn the corner and stop him. He refused to be stopped.

  Mama says whatever happens to please protect her babies. But I’m not a baby anymore.

  No? Then you must be big and strong. Look after your mama until I get there. Also, what is your name?

  Maisy.

  Calle stopped as if a root of surprise shot out from the floor and wrapped around his ankle. That’s what he’d wanted to name his child if he’d had a girl. Had Liam known? He’d never told anyone but Nyana. Then again, he now knew Liam had likely sent spies to follow them.

  His heart pounded as he pulled one of the large, rounded doors to the exit open. In the darkness, two guards drew their swords, the metal singing on the way out of their scabbards.

  He feigned a sheepish expression as he glanced between the two of them—the same two guards as when he’d first arrived.

  “Prince Calle,” the woman said, blinking in surprise moments before she dropped to her knee alongside her companion.

  Guilt crept across him like midnight shadows as he now feigned embarrassment. “I didn’t realize anyone would be out here. You see, I wanted to meet someone.”

  The other man spoke this time. “With all due respect, Your Highness, the woods are not safe. Perhaps if I retrieved Joel to hide you...”

  “Absolutely not.” He bit his lip. “Skaja already came out here. I don’t want her to think I never tried to meet her.”

  “We didn’t see the harpy.”

  “Probably because she’s fast.” Calle tried not to tap his foot impatiently. Every moment they wasted was another moment dawn crept closer. Little time remained. “I am not asking for your permission. I’ll be back soon.”

  The two guards gawked at him as he disappeared into the forest. Once out of view, he turned fast on his heel to the left and headed in the direction of the castle. A wave of magic rippled over him as he crossed the invisible barrier that hid the fortress from outsiders.

  A shiver ran down his spine as he traversed the forest floor with only a sliver of moonlight to guide his way. He didn’t dare use magic to light the path, afraid someone might spot him.

  He pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and climbed down the rocky ravine beneath the bridge leading into Heulwen. Torches flickered above him, and he held his breath, praying his feet wouldn’t slip. A patch of dark green moss cushioned his footfalls. The fresh scent of stream water promised escape in the distance. And when he reached a horizontal grate in the rock face, only then did he release his breath.

  He eased one of the thick metal bars loose and silently set it aside on the soft moss. As kids, he and Joel had discovered this passageway that led straight to the castle. Although he wasn’t sure if Liam knew about it, he slipped through the opening and proceeded forward carefully.

  Keep to the shadows. Be aware of your surroundings. Listen to both your surroundings and your gut. Be cautious.

  Skaja’s words echoed in his mind as a constant, comforting reminder.

  A chill swept through the pitch-black corridor made of stone and moss. The dank smell of mildew and decay teased his nostrils. He lifted his cloak to cover half his face, partially protecting himself from the rancid smell.

  He crept along the shadows, moving only as fast as he dared. One hand still held the cloak to his face while his other hand felt along the damp stone. Drips of water echoed in the distance, and wind howled down another tunnel. The darkness swallowed him whole as if he walked straight into the belly of a beast.

  Not knowing how the mental link between himself and his niece worked, he cast a net into the black pit of the ocean.

  Maisy?

  No answer.

  What felt like an entire mile passed as he weaved through tunnel after tunnel. His fingers brushed against an empty sconce, affirming he now traveled directly beneath the castle. So far, none of Liam’s men showed themselves. But his hand lay in wait to grab the hilt of his sword at the faintest sign of trouble.

  Maisy, he tried again. Can you hear me?

  I can hear you.

  Does your father know I’m coming?

  A tearful reply followed. I don’t know. I grabbed my sister from the nursery and brought her into Mama’s room. I don’t know if anyone saw me.

  His foot hit a stone stair, and cautiously, he began to climb. Darkness still blinded his way. Is the door locked?

  Papa took the lock off.

  Calle’s stomach churned with disgust at the meaning. Liam’s wife couldn’t seek refuge from his ill intentions. With each footstep up the long, narrow staircase, anger burned in his blood. How could his brother have turned into such a vile creature?

  At the top of the staircase lay a closed door. He felt along the wooden structure until he found the handle and turned. He winced as the door creaked open. He paused. Silence greeted his ears.

  He took a deep, steadying breath before he pushed aside a long, red tapestry and stepped into the solar.

  Darkness coated the empty room like dust. A sliver of moonlight entered through a gap in the thick, velvet curtains. The unlit hearth was clean, as if the room hadn’t been used in some time.

  A portrait hanging over the mantle caught his eye, and as he approached slowly, his heart suddenly trudged through mud. He and Liam stood with their parents, each face smiling. They were happy back then. If only things hadn’t changed in the years since.

  Crash!

  Calle jumped out of his skin at the sound of shattering glass. He drew his sword and pointed it toward the door. No one entered.

  Someone shouted in the hallway, and he slowly edged toward the door. The shouting grew louder.

  “You good for nothing servant!” Liam roared, followed by more shattering glass. “How hard is it to find a few hundred people?”

  “Th-th-they’re using magic to shield themselves,” someone stuttered. “Our disenchanters can’t even find them.”

  “Why? Isn’t that your job? To break illusions?”

  The servant began stuttering again. “Y-y-yes but we no longer believe the magic is an illusion. They must be hiding in a pocket in another realm.”

  “Then find them!”

  “Your Majesty,” someone said, a female voice this time. “Why don’t you get some sleep? The hour is still early.”

  “I will get some sleep when those damn rebels are found! Are the gallows ready?”

  Gallows...

  The pit in his stomach grew larger at the mention. He didn’t dare breathe, afraid even the tiniest sound would alert them to his presence behind the door.

  “Surely you don’t mean to hang your own wife.”

  Bang! Shatter!

  Liam snarled. “Either it will be my wife or my bastard of a brother. Send out another search party. Calle will come. I have no doubt. Always the perfect and noble one. He’ll come.”

  Glass crunched against boots before the footsteps echoed in the opposite direction. The glass then scraped against stone as if someone began to clean up Liam’s mess. During a particularly loud scrape, Calle opened the door quickly and shut it behind him, finding himself in a dim hallway. Torchlight flickered around the corner near the source of the commotion.

  He ducked into the shadows and crept along the hallway in the direction of the queen’s chambers. Every footfall mimicked each thud of his heart. He kept his senses alert, listening for the first sign of danger. It was strange to walk these halls again. He remembered every room, every corner, every turn. It was home.

  Yet, it wasn’t at the same time.

  A rat scampered down the hallway, followed by the growl of a cat. But otherwise, the castle lay still in the early morning darkness.

  Firelight flickered from beneath the door leading to the queen’s chambers. Could he exit the castle as smoothly as he had entered? With three people to protect?

  I’m here, he said in his mind, hoping Maisy heard his words. Don’t be frightened. I’m walking through the door.

  With one hand on the pommel of his sword and the other on the door handle, he opened the door, slipped inside, and closed it quietly.

  A gasp.

  Calle spun around, his gaze darting about the room. Two small girls shared a large armchair beside the fire, both looking haggard and tired and scared. And the source of the gasp...

  He squinted against the firelight to find a figure huddled beneath a blanket, lying on a cot. A purple bruise lay on her cheek, her neck and swollen eyes faring just as badly.

  It was as if someone punched him in the gut, and he suddenly couldn’t draw a single breath in his shock. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Small face. Tiny frame.

  “Nyana,” he choked.

  Skaja bolted upright when Calle’s shock rippled through the bond, as if she plunged into an icy river in the dead of winter.

  She knew in her gut something was wrong the moment she found her bed empty.

  In less than a minute, she dressed, strapped on her weapons, and darted out of her room. Calle’s emotions surged through her. Shock. Anger. Sadness. No, not sadness. Devastation. Where was he? With Avonia? Typheal? Certainly not Inari, otherwise she would feel his fear.

  He should have taken one of her daggers so she would know where to find him.

  Despair. More anger. Disgust.

  Her gut churned with unease as she raced through the empty hallways of the fortress. Surely, no one could feel so many emotions in the span of minutes.

  Despite exerting herself by running, her heart wasn’t attuned to her own body. It was attuned to his and it beat much more slowly than it should.

  When running pro
ved to be much too slow, she spread her wings on either side of her. They still ached from both healing and disuse, but they obeyed her when she flapped them. Her feet left the ground only moments later, and she soared quickly through the halls.

  Disgust. Tenderness. Unease.

  Fear.

  She flew faster when the outpouring of emotion nearly collapsed her wings and threatened to curl her into a ball.

  As if sensing her panic, Inari ran out into the hallway right as she passed over her. Quickly, she landed and faced her friend. “Do you know where Calle is?”

  Inari smirked. “Wouldn’t you? You can’t deny he’s your lover now.”

  “I’m serious!”

  Worry. Distress. Defiance.

  “Who’s there?” a voice growled moments before someone turned the corner. Typheal emerged with a torch in his hand, the black tattoos standing out against the shadows flickering across his face. He froze when he spotted the two of them. His eyes widened, and a flicker of hesitation crawled across his features. He looked as if he contemplated whether to draw a sword or run for the hills.

  Uncertainty and distrust set aside, Skaja approached him in her desperation. “Calle is gone. I think something has—is—happening to him.”

  “How do you know?”

  Swallowing, she held out her hand to reveal the shallow cut on her palm. “We are connected.”

  Inari howled with laughter while Typheal’s brows pinched into a deeper furrow. “Tell me what you feel.”

  She recounted the way her heart beat and all the emotions Calle had felt in the last several minutes. When she finished, Typheal swore under his breath and motioned for her to follow him. They traversed a couple hallways before exiting the fortress altogether. Two guards scrambled to attention at the sight of her father.

  “Prince Calle came out here.” Typheal’s comment wasn’t a question, but rather demanded an answer.

  The guards glanced from Skaja to Typheal with fear in their expressions. The man pointed to her. “His Highness said he planned to meet Skaja in a private place. He’s been gone for an hour. Maybe more. He hasn’t returned.”

  “Obviously, he wasn’t going to meet me!” she growled as she raked her fingers through her hair but paused when she found her father doing it to his own. It seemed they shared the nervous habit. “Where is he?”

  Even in the darkness, barely visible beneath the light of the moon, her father’s face paled. “He went to the castle,” he murmured, eyes wide. “No! He cannot find out like this. We must stop him. He’ll get himself killed.”

  “Find out what?”

  “We kept it from him for a reason. We knew he’d do something rash and stupid. He thinks, or perhaps thought, Nyana was dead. She’s not. She’s married to his brother. She’s the queen.”

  All the blood rushed from her face, and she stumbled backward at the news. She caught herself against a pillar, and then combed through each of the emotions again. Calle’s shock had been powerful enough to stir her from her slumber. He’d only just found out Nyana still lived. He was most certainly at the palace. But then what had driven him there in the first place?

  Suddenly, the insistence for Calle to marry made sense. Before he found out Nyana was alive. He would be less likely to do something rash and stupid. Like now. Entering the palace without someone to protect him was both rash and incredibly stupid.

  A small, insecure part of her flickered to life as her gaze lingered in the direction of the castle. What did this mean for her? Was she going to lose Calle? To his former flame?

  She seethed. “I’m going to rescue his sorry arse just to kill his sorry arse.”

  Typheal reached out as if to touch her but retracted his hand. “You can’t go by yourself.”

  “No, I can’t.” She marched back into the fortress, Typheal at her heels. Inari’s bright eyes danced with enjoyment as she watched the drama unfold. “We need to act now. Wake the spellcaster who hides the fortress. Rouse your soldiers. We no longer have time to wait. Your prince’s life is at stake.”

  Only minutes later, soldiers dressed in armor and weapons stood in the room with her. They shifted from one foot to the other as anxious energy pulsed across the walls. Some faces appeared excited, others frightened and pale. There weren’t as many people as she would have liked, but it was enough.

  She nearly expected either one of her parents to step forward to lead, but they didn’t. All eyes fixed on her.

  She slammed her hands flat on a table, and the entire room fell into a hush. “Your prince has made the first move to take a stand against the king,” she said, her voice echoing for all to hear. Although, she skipped the part where she had no idea what he was doing or why. They needed to feel confident in their future ruler and not balk at his stupidity. “We may not have many soldiers, but we have enough to take the northern wall.”

  “And then what?” someone called out.

  “We hold it. It’s time to take back what is rightfully ours.”

  A cheer filled the room. She was surprised to find she meant it. Ours... This was her home too.

  And she would make sure they succeeded.

  “You didn’t know,” Nyana whispered, her eyes widening slightly in their swollen state.

  He shook his head when words failed him. Tears blinded him and ran down his cheeks. “I had no idea you were alive. No idea you were married to Liam. I thought...I thought you were dead.”

  “And I thought you were dead until only a few weeks ago.”

  “Not dead. Just enslaved, starved, and tortured.”

  “Oh, Calle.” Tears slipped down her own cheeks, and when she reached for his hand, he grasped on tight. Her grip was weak, her body frail. “My heart breaks for what you have endured.”

  He swallowed, his gaze passing over her face. “You have endured far worse.”

  She shook her head and winced as if the action pained her. “Not always. Only when he is angry.”

  However, the fear in her eyes told another story altogether. No one should fear their husband. “I’ll get you and your daughters to safety. Can you walk?”

  Another wince, and with the shake of her head, she said, “Liam broke my leg so I couldn’t run.” Sweat slicked her forehead, and pain rippled across her bruised face. But she remained stoic, either for her girls or because she was used to enduring such pain, he wasn’t sure.

  His jaw clenched as anger fueled him. His heart thrummed fast, pulsing white, hot fury through his blood. He squeezed her hand, intent on seeking her permission. “Will you allow me to take you and your children away from here?”

  He glanced at the two girls. Maisy appeared to be five years old, her hair auburn and her eyes blue. The younger girl, perhaps age three, looked far more like Liam with her green eyes, though her blonde hair came from Nyana.

  She swallowed and nodded as if in too much pain to speak. He stooped down and carefully scooped her into his arms while instructing the girls to hold onto him and not let go.

  The door slammed. Calle spun around, his heart beating wildly when he found Liam casually leaning against the frame. Half his face twisted into a triumphant leer. Burn scars stretched across the other half of his face, still red and angry as if burned only yesterday.

  “Well, well, well,” Liam said slowly like a cat teasing its prey. “Look who managed to escape the Pits. I’ve heard they’re inescapable. How did you do it?”

  “A valkyrie saved me.”

  Nyana and the children clung tighter to him, their fear transparent on their faces.

  “Saved you?” Liam’s scarred face twisted into a snarl. “I thought they captured you.”

  He shrugged, and despite himself and the situation, he grinned. “I suppose I’m that personable.”

  Anger twisted his brother’s features even more, but he didn’t move forward. Instead, he eyed Calle’s hands and winced as if remembering the day he’d burned his face. “Where is the valkyrie now?”

  Calle’s jaw clenched, and he spat at Liam’s feet. “As if I’d tell you, you bastard.”

  “Always so much disrespect for your older brother.” He smirked, though his eyes filled with contempt and hatred brighter than the sun. “How did you enjoy the Pits, Calle?”

  Against his will, his breath became ragged. His body trembled. Horrible memories flashed across his mind. Darkness. Pain. Hunger. Cold. Misery. He snapped out of the horror only when Liam took a step forward.