A Breath of Sunlight Read online

****

  Calle woke at the crack of dawn, eagerly starting the day despite the weariness dragging on his body. The sky lightened little by little, until the world around him became visible.

  He stood at the edge of the cliff, gazing down at a long, winding river below. His gaze traveled from an expansive forest to the faint silhouette of a city. A familiar city. Oddwaran.

  Many different people lived in the city, from human to fae to forest dwellers. One such person was a family friend named Jarvis, a human he could trust. And another one- or two-day’s journey into the forest was where the man he desperately needed to visit resided. Cian.

  His fingers absently trailed over the golden tattoo on his wrist, tracing each of the twelve points of the sun star. The man could work miracles. Getting out of the Pits was already a miracle, and he didn’t dare hope for more. But he needed help and protection, at least until he could figure out the path ahead.

  The skies grew lighter with each passing minute, and he watched the mountain range with hopeful anticipation. His heart quickened. His body thrummed alive. He leaned forward. And then the first ray of sunlight broke over the mountain.

  Warmth bathed his face with agonizing relief. He was powerless against the tears trailing from his eyes and soaking his cheeks as a rush of energy entered his worn and weary body. The horizon lit up like a brilliant fire, chasing away the darkness, the pain, the cold, and the hopelessness.

  It was beautiful.

  ****

  Skaja’s heart gave a start as she stood a little way behind the fae man, watching him stand as still as a windless night. Tears trailed down his face as he gazed at the horizon. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply.

  The pale pallor of his skin faded ever so slightly. The dark circles beneath his eyes vanished. His previous ill appearance changed into vibrancy and good health.

  She swallowed the lump in her throat as her gaze raked across the whipping scars on his back. His bloodied shirt hung from him in tatters, and the brown of his trousers was faint as if he’d worn them for a long time. How much had he suffered in the Pits?

  Not able to handle the emotions stirring within her, she spoke. “What are you doing?”

  The man jumped at the sound of her voice and quickly swiped his tears away, but he kept his gaze on the mountain range before them. “I haven’t seen sunlight in six years. It’s beautiful.”

  Six years?

  She gawked at him. That was a long time to never see the light of day. “What awful thing did you do to deserve the Pits?”

  At last, he turned to face her and gave her a pained smile. “I loved a woman.”

  She searched his face for any trace of a jest but found none. “I’m serious. What did you do?”

  A deep, burdened breath left him as he turned his head to face the rising sun once again. “I was born with magic, and my older brother was not.”

  He had mentioned his magic the previous night, and her gaze traveled to the sleeve of his shirt, which hid the magic-hindering brand on his forearm.

  “What happened to the woman?”

  “She’s dead. My brother killed her.”

  Her feathers ruffled on their own accord as she stared back at him. An aching pain lingered in his eyes as if he were remembering the incident. The thought of his brother killing this woman set her blood ablaze. “So, you’re innocent?”

  He nodded, then shrugged. “I burned his face a good deal when I tried to save her. And I embarrassed him in front of many people. But I don’t believe I deserved the Pits for my actions.”

  “You were enslaved unjustly. You gave your portion of food away to other slaves. You protected the virtue of women. You took whippings for others.” She shook her head as she pierced him with a stare. “You are supposed to be a man.”

  “I am a man. Have you met no decent men in your life?”

  “I haven’t met any men at all.” Her voice took on a warning, dangerous tone. “It’s hard to get to know someone when I’m slitting their throat.”

  He looked her up and down, but no fear lived in his expression. “Just how much male blood is on your hands?”

  “Quite a bit.”

  “And female blood?”

  “None.”

  His gaze lingered on the swirling purple tattoo on her left shoulder, the one that claimed her as a valkyrie in her clan. Her bare shoulders not only proudly displayed her identity, but it was an easy outfit to work around her wings.

  For a moment, when he opened his mouth, she thought he might ask about the tattoo. Instead, he said, “You stranded me on a cliff.”

  “Why do you think I returned?”

  An annoying, secretive smile spread across his face, nearly hidden beneath his mountain of facial hair. “That must be why.” His eyes glimmered with amusement. “How do you propose I get down? The cliff is quite steep, and I have no rope to propel me to the bottom.”

  When his gaze shifted to her wings, she turned a shoulder to him. She had not thought this far ahead, but she refused to carry him like a pack mule. “No.”

  His eyes flickered with contemplation as he edged closer to the drop-off and peered over the side. “The cliffside is quite steep, but I think I can manage the climb down if—”

  The ground crumbled beneath his feet, and he yelped before disappearing completely.

  Panic raced through her at his sudden disappearance. Real, terrifying panic. She wasted no time as she ran toward the edge of the cliff and jumped off after him. She tucked her wings close to her, spiraling downward faster than he fell. The ground came closer and closer until she managed to hook her arms beneath his.

  Her wings unfurled on either side of her, catching wind beneath her feathers and slowing their descent. Terror still seized her pulse as she glided past the walls of cliffs, over the river, and finally dropped them into a field of knee-high grass.

  Breathing heavily, her anger as her guide, she lifted her hand and slapped him across the face. The noise reverberated in the field, mingling with the soft whistle of wind in the long blades of grass.

  He stared back at her with a shocked expression, a red imprint growing redder on his cheek. Several moments of silence passed between them as they stared at the other. “You slapped me.”

  “Your magic may not allow me to kill you, but I can still slap you.” And kick him, it seemed. Ridiculous magic ward.

  “You care.” His smile grew wider as his fingertips trailed across the small wound. “It’s been a long time since anyone has cared.”

  Her eyes shot open in surprise before furrowing into a glare. “Now wait one moment... I don’t care one speck about you.”

  “Then me falling wouldn’t have made you angry.”

  “You inconvenienced me is all.”

  Still, he smiled as he turned his back to her, touching his face with his fingertips. The sight of the sentiment caused her to ball her hands into fists. Was he asking to get slapped again? Because she wanted to, if only to teach him a lesson or two.

  But she refrained.

  “Thank you for saving my life,” he said suddenly, now gazing toward Oddwaran. “Just now and in the Pits. I never thought I’d see daylight again.”

  Barbed words died on her tongue as she stared at him. The man before her was...perplexing. Nothing like her valkyrie sisters.

  Before she thought of a reply, he said, “I can manage on my own now, I think. I don’t have any coin, but there must be some way I can repay you for what you have done for me.”

  She blinked several times, his words catching her off guard. Repay? But...but...men were supposed to be selfish and uncaring.

  To hide her growing discomfort, she ruffled her wings and turned her gaze toward the forest to give a standoffish appearance. “There is nothing you can possibly give that I want. However...you’ll likely be eaten by wolves or chupacabras before you reach your destination. I can at least see you that far.”

  “Won’t your valkyrie friends miss you?”

  She shrugged and risked a glance in his direction to find him watching her curiously. “Most likely. But they are used to me disappearing on a whim.”

  The fae man grinned, setting a torch to her annoyance.

  “Don’t look so smug.” She shoved him in the shoulder, only to misjudge her strength against the weakness in his body. He stumbled and barely managed to catch himself before falling flat on his face. “Let’s get you something to eat first and then we’ll continue.”

  The heavens knew the fae man needed sustenance in his belly.

  The first real, edible meal after six years of slavery consisted of smoked fish, elderberries, and golden newt eggs. Calle couldn’t remember eating anything so delicious in his life. But when he reached for a third egg, Skaja smacked his hand.

  “I’ve known people who ate too much after starvation,” she said as she kicked dirt over the fire. “You know what happens? They die.”

  “What a great way to die.”

  She paused moments before she kicked him next. “You sure are a lot of trouble for a fae slave. Nearly getting whipped to death. Falling off cliffs. Eating your way to your grave. We have been acquainted for less than a day, and I have saved your life three times.”

  “Four,” he corrected as they continued their journey to the city, though keeping him from eating anything more hardly counted as saving his life. “You almost stabbed me in the Pits, but you didn’t. If I had been at full strength, you would have been the one on the other end of the knife.”

  She tapped a finger against her chin. “I’ll remember you said that when you fail miserably to stoke the flames of your ego.”

  A full-blown laugh escaped him, startling him even more than the sound of his voice had. Even after it faded, his smile remained. How couldn’t he be ha
ppy? He was free. “I like you.”

  “I don’t return the sentiment.”

  “I don’t believe you. Admit it. You like me back.”

  Skaja gave him a sideways glance, her expression wary and guarded. She didn’t refute him this time, but she also didn’t agree. “You are a pain in my arse, that’s what you are.”

  “A royal pain in your arse,” he amended before he thought twice. He cringed at his words, but she didn’t seem to notice. If people knew his true identity, it was a sure way to get killed before he found his feet. Better to lie low until he regained his strength.

  Long grass brushed his knees as they continued toward Oddwaran while making light conversation. When they reached the bridge arching over a long, slow river leading to the city, they stopped.

  Uncertainty flickered across him as he glanced down at his ragged clothes. He’d no sooner be tossed out of the city than be allowed to wander the streets. He looked awful, and his bloodied and tattered clothing would draw more attention than he wanted.

  “Why are you stopping?” Skaja asked, but then she clamped her mouth shut as a cart wheeled past them. The passengers stared at them, as odd of a pair they were—a beautiful harpy and a disheveled man.

  “I need to reach the center of the city. I fear I won’t make it looking like I slept like a mole in a dirt mound for six years.”

  She scanned him up and down. “You mean you don’t always look like this?”

  His mouth twitched at her jest, and he jested right back. “I could catch the eye of beautiful ladies once upon a time.”

  “Oh? I wasn’t aware that moles could catch anything at all.”

  Instead of reacting to her amusing insult, he watched as several more groups entered and exited the city. Too many stares lingered on him, and he shifted with discomfort. Did anyone recognize him?

  He nearly snorted. Unlikely.

  What he needed was a change of clothes. And glancing down at the dirtied, blistered toes sticking out from massive holes in his footwear, he needed new shoes as well.

  Money, clothes, shoes, food, shelter. The list of needs went on and on until Calle’s situation became hopeless. But he’d made it this far. He hadn’t survived so long for nothing.

  As he started to formulate a plan, Skaja shoved something into his arms. He glanced down in surprise to find her cloak, the same shade of blue as the midnight sky. His wide eyes darted to her to find her arms crossed as she looked anywhere but at him.

  “I will let you borrow it, but the moment you’re done, I want it back immediately. I’m not going in there. Too many...men.”

  Discomfort lingered in the hunch in her shoulders, in the angle of her wings. How could she hate men so much? He truly didn’t understand valkyries.

  But still, he nodded and threw it over his shoulders to cover his tattered clothing. The cloak only reached his knees, and he felt as if he were a grown man wearing child’s clothing. An approximate seven-inch height difference between him and Skaja was suddenly much more noticeable.

  “Thank you,” he said with a dip of his head. “I will hurry back as quickly as I can.”

  He threw the hood of the cloak over his head and hunched his shoulders in an attempt to make himself stand out less. He walked quickly until he fell behind a group entering the city with their wagonload of crops.

  Little by little, they inched forward, closer to the front of the line. A single guard stood at the foot of the bridge admitting travelers or inspecting wagons. When his group reached the front, he kept his head down and prayed no one would notice him.

  A sigh of relief escaped him as the group was admitted into the city. He followed closely behind, took one step on the stone bridge, but stopped suddenly when an arm shot out to hinder his progress.

  “Halt,” the guard said.

  Calle regretted looking the man in the eye, only to find disgust in his expression as he looked him over.

  “Please, sir,” Calle murmured. “I need to get inside. I won’t cause any trouble. You have my word.”

  However, his words fell on deaf ears. The guard forcefully grabbed his arm, twisted it to face the other way, and pulled up his sleeve to reveal the brand on his forearm. He gasped. “You’re a slave.”

  Before he could inspect the brand closer to find out whose slave he was, Calle snatched his arm back and tried hard not to wince against the pain shooting through his wrist.

  “We do not tolerate escapees,” the other man said, his hand tightening on his spear. “You are hereby arrested to be detained until—”

  “He’s my slave,” Skaja interrupted as she appeared at his side and grabbed his arm, a relaxed expression on her face. How she could appear so relaxed when his heart thundered in his chest was beyond him. “Yes, he looks a bit scroungy, but there’s no point in upkeeping his appearance when he’s going to die soon anyway.”

  She shifted to better reveal the tattoo on her shoulder. The man’s face turned ghostly pale as he looked from her, to him, and back to her before taking a large step back. His spear shook in his trembling hand. He opened his mouth, but no sound emerged.

  Continuing, Skaja said, “Now forget we were ever here, and you and I won’t have a problem. Understand?”

  The guard nodded quickly. He dropped his spear and hastily scooped it up, his eyes wide with fear. He didn’t stop them as they crossed the bridge together, arm in arm.

  The moment they cleared the bridge, he pulled her beneath the shade of a nearby tree and released a shuddering breath. He wasn’t a free man. Not entirely. Not until this brand disappeared from his arm. He could have been sent back to the Pits.

  Far too easily too.

  “Skaja,” he said, a world of emotion in his eyes that he wasn’t quite sure how to express. Warmth filled his soul as if brushed with a shower of sunshine. He gazed into her deep brown eyes and felt a stirring of something different. Something new.

  Her hand flew seemingly out of nowhere before striking his cheek. Heat spread across his face as he gazed back at the anger in her expression. “What did I do this time?”

  “For making me enter the city. I told you I was not comfortable.”

  “And you had to strike me to express yourself?”

  “Sorry.” She ruffled her wings and glanced nervously over her shoulder. “I’ve never dealt with a man before. I’m doing my best.”

  He opened his mouth to continue the argument, but one look at the anxiety in her eyes convinced him to change the topic to something with more levity. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he led her forward. “You think I look scroungy?”

  She ducked beneath his arm and glared. “Touch me again, and I will kill you.”

  “Uh huh.”

  As they walked down a busy street full of peddlers, wagons, horses, and other travelers, Calle watched her out of the corner of his eye. She tugged on a metal circlet on her upper arm, and it pulled upward in a coiled design to attach to a golden necklace near her throat. The piece of jewelry hid her entire tattoo, leaving nothing poking out.

  Smart.

  He assumed people—men especially—wouldn’t be too keen to have a valkyrie within their walls.

  Nervousness tumbled around in his heart as they neared their destination with no further incidents. Finally, they stood in front of a barber shop. A sign hung from a post with two pairs of scissors crossed to form an X.

  “Looking to get a trim?” Skaja rolled her eyes. “Don’t look at me. I’m not lending you any money.”

  “Although a trim wouldn’t hurt... I’m looking for the owner. He’s a friend. Would you like to come inside?”

  The way she ruffled her feathers gave him her answer before she even opened her mouth. “No. I’ll stay out here. But the moment you come back out I’m leaving. Understand?”

  “You don’t have to stay.”

  “I said I’ll wait,” she growled.

  He didn’t dare argue, especially when her blood bond likely enticed her to stay. He wouldn’t say no to the security her protection offered. If Liam had found out he escaped and was alive...

  He shuddered. He would be hunted if he weren’t already.

  With a quick nod of his head, Calle ducked inside the building. A bell tinkled on the door overhead, and he winced as the sound alerted others to his entrance. However, no one was in the main room. Not even the owner.

  Silence continued to greet him, and his heart calmed a fraction. He stepped further into the room and glanced about. Three empty chairs were tucked neatly behind three tables, with mirrors attached to the wall in front of each station. No one stood behind the wooden counter. Was anyone even home?