A Breath of Sunlight Read online

  Wooden boards creaked beneath him as he walked into the center of the room, but the moment he turned, another image turned with him.

  “Gah!” he shouted in fright at the awful sight staring back at him in the mirror. His eyes widened as he approached and lightly touched the reflective surface to make sure the image was real. Bushy beard. Long, ratty hair. Dirt-stained clothing. “By the gods above... I’m hideous.”

  Someone behind him gasped, followed by a crash. He spun around, only to find himself facing a man he hadn’t seen in many years, a large crate at his feet.

  “Only one man has that tattoo on his wrist,” he said before scrambling to both knees. “Your Highness.”

  “Jarvis,” he sighed in relief before he reached out and grasped the man’s hand, using far too much strength to pull him to his feet. Not only was the man large, standing six inches taller than him, but he was heavy. Good. It meant he had plenty of work to put food on the table.

  Except for today, it seemed. But it was still morning.

  “I haven’t opened yet,” Jarvis said as if in answer to his silent question. “But I’m glad. Prince Calle...I thought you were dead. Everyone thinks you are dead.”

  Calle gave him a brief explanation of being sent to the Pits and only having escaped the day before. “I wasn’t sure who else to turn to on such short notice. I hate begging, but—”

  “Whatever is mine is yours. Do you need a place to stay? Some money? Food?”

  “I can’t stay, but I hoped you might provide a small amount of money and provisions. I swear to you I will pay back every coin double what you give me.”

  Jarvis dipped into a bow, and Calle glanced toward the window of the shop. Although Skaja lingered on the opposite side of the street, her attention was occupied with watching each passerby suspiciously.

  “Don’t bow. I can’t have anyone know of my identity. It will only make matters more dangerous for me.”

  With a nod of his head, the other man gestured for him to follow him to the back of the shop and upstairs to his own living quarters. “I can do better than what you ask for. While you take a bath, I’ll dig through my son’s belongings. I think he has some clothing that might fit you.”

  Calle entered the washroom and gratefully shed his disgusting clothing. A sigh escaped him as he sank into the cold water of the bath. But he grimaced at how quickly the water turned brown. Not wanting to linger, he used nearly an entire bar of soap until every inch of dirt disappeared from his skin and hair. When Jarvis entered, he took one look at the bath water, and his eyebrows shot into his hairline.

  “I thought I put water in there and not mud, but I must be mistaken.”

  The jest nearly made Calle crack a smile, but he frowned as he held up the bar of soap. “I’m not sure I want to brave my back. Can you...?”

  Without a word, Jarvis took the soap, but he paused when he caught sight of his back, covered in whipping scars and open cuts. A deep frown settled on his face, but still, Jarvis helped clean the cuts.

  Calle hissed through his teeth the moment the soap touched his open sores. Red mingled with the brown of the water. Tears stung his eyes. His entire back throbbed with pain, and he was grateful when Jarvis helped dry him off and dress him. It was as if all his exhaustion piled on him at once, and when they made their way downstairs, he sank into the nearest chair.

  His legs refused to go any further.

  Once again, Jarvis attended to him without a word by grabbing a pair of scissors and a razor.

  “You don’t have to,” he started to protest, but the man spoke over him.

  “Yes, I do. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the two dozen times your gaze has darted to the window.” The scissors snipped off clump after clump of his hair and beard. He didn’t dare look at himself in the mirror again. “Is the harpy your guard?”

  “No. She’s...a friend.”

  The man’s devious smile grew across his face. “A friend, you say? A special lady friend?”

  “No,” he said firmly, but he couldn’t help but glance at her again. Skaja was a beautiful woman. There was no denying it. And he felt the stirrings of warmth near her. But she would sooner gut him than court him. Besides, Nyana still weighed on his heart.

  He’d also lost a bit of weight in the Pits. He couldn’t imagine himself in a place where women would find him attractive. At least not yet.

  The cold blade of the razor felt foreign against his face, and even stranger was the mass of weight gone from his head.

  “I remember how you like your hair,” Jarvis chuckled as he started plaiting a small strand of hair on either side of his face. “I think your lady friend would agree with your change in appearance. Take a look.”

  “No, I don’t dare.” When he shook his head, the ends of his hair brushed against his shoulders.

  “Your Highness, I really think you should.”

  Slowly, Calle turned his head, his body tense. But as he made eye contact with himself in the mirror, a sigh of relief escaped his mouth. “That’s not as bad as I was expecting. Not as gaunt and hollow.”

  Jarvis grinned from ear to ear and clapped him on the shoulder before handing him a pack of provisions and a sack of coins. “Good luck.”

  “Thank you,” he breathed, careful to keep the pack from touching his back injuries. “It’s going to be a rough journey ahead.”

  “I meant good luck with your lady friend.”

  Calle rolled his eyes when Jarvis winked. “Don’t you have a shop to open?”

  “That I do.”

  With each passing moment, Skaja’s wings slanted further with anxiety. She’d never entered a city crawling with men. Especially not with at least a few valkyries at her back.

  For a moment, she cursed her own fear. She could dive into a ravine filled with evil men and not even bat an eye, but without those men at the tip of her blade, she wasn’t entirely sure of herself.

  It didn’t help that people kept staring at her.

  A man leaned against the wall beside her as if he thought himself charming. His greasy blond hair fell over blue eyes, and he pushed it out of his face. “Did the gods send you to me from heaven?” he asked as he twiddled a piece of his long locks between his teeth. “Because you look like an angel.”

  She was torn between making a scene as she beat the man to a bloody pulp and keeping herself out of notice as much as possible. “Your white shirt is about to turn red if you don’t get out of my face.”

  The man scampered off, much to her relief.

  Her wings fluttered nervously. When would the fae man exit the establishment? He’d been in there for far too long.

  Yet another man approached her, and she growled while turning her face away. Unfortunately, he didn’t get the hint.

  “I swear I will put a knife between your shoulder blades if you men don’t scram!”

  “But I thought you wanted your cloak back.”

  When the man placed a familiar blue cloak in her arms, her eyes widened and she snapped her gaze to him. Her mouth dried as she found familiar amber eyes, but everything else was completely different.

  His red-brown hair neatly brushed the top of his shoulders, his long ears more prominent than before. His clean-shaven face revealed a strong jaw and an attractive mouth.

  Her gaze ran down the length of him, noticing he wore different clothes and shoes without holes.

  Words refused to grace her tongue when she made eye contact yet again. The fae man was...handsome. Very handsome. To think he’d been hiding it behind five layers of dirt, tattered clothing, and mountains of hair.

  A flush crept up her neck and gathered in her cheeks.

  “I suppose this is where we part,” he said, breaking her from her trance.

  Skaja blinked several times as she tried to catch her bearings—and her breath. An embarrassed flush further heated her face when she realized her wings had grown larger to show her attraction to the man. She snapped her wings back to her body, her pulse fast as she stared at him. He hadn’t seemed to notice her reaction.

  “Where are you headed?” her voice squeaked, and she cleared her throat to dispel the sudden frog in there.

  “To someone I can stay with for a while. I need somewhere to recuperate and lay low.”

  “She will likely be surprised when you show up.”

  “He,” he corrected, but not without an amused twitch of his mouth, “is like family to me. I’ve known him my whole life.”

  “And how far is this place?” A group of men walked past, a couple of them casting her lewd stares. She stepped closer to the fae man, realizing with a start that she felt comfortable by his side.

  “A two-day journey by foot. Then again...the roads can be dangerous. I might get eaten by wolves...or worse...chupacabras.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him when she recognized her own words thrown right back at her. “Is this your way of trying to get me to accompany you?”

  A smile grew across his face, melting her scowl as if she were a block of ice and he were warm sunlight. “Is it working? I would very much enjoy your company.”

  “Mine?” She thought back to the times she’d slapped him, attempted to kill him, goaded him, and insulted him. Besides, valkyries weren’t supposed to travel with men. Rather, they were supposed to slit their throats.

  Stepping even closer until they almost touched, she whispered menacingly, “If my sisters find out I spared your life, I will be punished, and Inari will probably kill you. If they find out I’ve been traveling with you...” She shuddered. “Imagine a ten times worse punishment. You hear?”

  “Loud and clear.” When he started walking, she followed several steps behind. “We’ll travel west and take another road south.”

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; “Didn’t you hear me? I’m not traveling with you.”

  “Oh.” However, his twitching lips gave his amusement away. “Then may we meet again in hopefully peaceful circumstances.”

  Although he continued forward without looking back, she stopped and lifted her head to the skies. A groan of exasperation escaped her mouth, followed by a heaving sigh. The need to protect the infuriating man pulsed strongly in her blood, though she couldn’t understand why for the life of her. He was far too reckless. He wouldn’t survive the night.

  When another man wormed his way in her direction, she picked up her pace and joined the fae man’s side. “Fine. But if Inari comes calling, don’t come crying to me. She wants your hair. Badly.”

  “I know.”

  As they walked through the streets, she cast another sideways glance at him. When the sunlight hit his hair, a bronze shimmer rippled through the auburn strands. Inari was right. His hair truly was spectacular, a color she had never quite seen before.

  A serious look took residence on his face as he continuously scanned the path ahead. A shudder ran down the length of her spine. This was the man she had fought in the Pits, the one clinging desperately to life. He would no sooner fight with every ounce of his strength than allow someone to drag him back there.

  She swallowed and brushed her fingers against her neck where he’d nearly impaled her with his pickaxe, the one he currently wore on his belt. The man was terrifying when he wanted to be. All happy, optimistic appearances aside.

  A man like that...what had it taken to defeat him when he was at full strength and still possessed his magic?

  He was a survivor. And survivors were the most dangerous kinds of people.

  Her gaze drifted to his left hand where it hung by his side. His fingers curled into a fist and uncurled. Despite what Inari had mentioned, she didn’t think his hand was lame. But something certainly was wrong with it.

  Several people stared in their direction with shocked expressions. But they didn’t stare at her. Rather, they watched the fae man as he passed. Whispers followed.

  As if uncomfortable with the attention, he produced a cloak from his pack and threw it over his head and shoulders.

  “Wait here,” he instructed. “There is one more thing I need to do.”

  She stared after him as he disappeared into another building, one not marked with a sign. Was she idiotic for accompanying him further? Absolutely.

  Not wanting to stay still lest more men risked their lives by approaching her, Skaja maneuvered down the street a little way and leaned against the railing of a dress shop. Several ladies gossiped behind gloved hands. At least until another young woman ran toward them, lifting the bottom of her skirts while stumbling across the road.

  “Did you see?” she gasped before she threw herself against the railing only feet away. “I saw him. I tell you I did. I’m not lying.”

  “Saw who?” another woman asked.

  Skaja turned away, uninterested in whatever gossip lay on the tips of their tongues.

  The young woman released an airy breath, her eyes wide. “Prince Calle Everdon. Don’t believe me? Others saw him too.”

  The gossip circle murmured their surprise, all while Skaja’s feathers rippled with shock. The fae prince? Although she didn’t care for men, his story was horribly tragic. All her valkyrie sisters had heard about the incident too. Dozens of people had witnessed the cold-blooded murder of the prince’s sweetheart, and soon after, him. By his own brother’s hand.

  Her eyebrows furrowed. She’d heard a similar story, but she couldn’t remember where.

  “But he’s dead,” she interrupted, inserting herself into the conversation against her better judgment.

  As if they thrived on spreading gossip, they opened their circle wider to include her.

  “But what if he’s not?” The woman giggled and smoothed down her hair. “We danced together once. At the king’s coronation ball. I wonder if he’d remember me.”

  The downward slant of her eyebrows deepened. If dozens of people had witnessed the murder, then the young woman must be mistaken. Besides, she wasn’t supposed to care about the affairs of kingdoms.

  The need to help and protect pulsed in her blood at the thought of the prince. Ridiculous. Something was wrong with her. It all started when she met the fae slave. Whatever this magic was, she planned to put an end to it.

  The fae man made an appearance only several moments later, his hood drawn over his head. They made eye contact before he walked quickly in the opposite direction with a deep frown on his face.

  Abandoning the circle, she hurried after and fell into step beside him. Neither of them spoke until they left the city altogether and strayed off the beaten path.

  “What’s going on?” she asked as they entered the nearby forest. “I’m not used to you wearing a frown.”

  “Then you clearly haven’t seen me in the past six years. I’ve been nothing but surly.”

  An itch tugged on the back of her neck, but when she glanced behind her, she found nothing but dark trees and a quiet forest. She spread her wings and flew to the boughs above, watching for anything abnormal.

  Nothing.

  And so very like him, the fae man trudged forward without a care in the world for his own safety. So far, men weren’t cruel and vicious—they were careless and stupid.

  She watched for a minute more before gliding downward. She tucked her wings in as her feet touched the ground. “What happened in that building? I’ve never seen you so...angry.”

  At last, he ran a hand down his face and slowed his pace. He sighed. “I don’t mean to be. I just...I was looking for information.” He glanced sideways at her as if to gauge her reaction. “About two of my friends. Avonia and Typheal Svera.”

  “You sure do have a lot of friends, fae slave.”

  He ignored her comment. “Do you know them?”

  “Svera...Svera...Svera...” She glanced up toward the sunlight flickering through the trees as she tried to recall the name. “I don’t believe so. Did you find anything?”

  “No.”

  His shoulders slumped as if a hundred pounds of burdens had crashed into him. “I’m worried I’ve failed them.”

  Skaja didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing. Instead, she watched the trees carefully for looming threats. Once again, she cursed her stupidity for accompanying the man beside her to who knew where, unable to sever the invisible rope tied between them.

  A man...

  A sigh left her lips. What was she doing?

  The further they traveled, the slower he became. Exhaustion dragged his feet. The wounds on his back clearly pained him, as he winced several times when he tripped over his own feet. But he never complained. Not once.

  As if the pack on his back weighed too much, he shifted it to one hand but breathed in sharply and dropped it to the ground.

  She eyed his limp hand while he picked the pack up with the other. If he didn’t start using his weak hand, he would likely get killed out here.

  “Stop here for a moment,” she said, gesturing to the nearby river.

  He didn’t protest, but rather slumped onto a large rock with a sigh. He lay on his back, his eyes closed as sunlight touched his face. No, he wasn’t lying down but basking.

  She rolled her eyes. Was he fae or a cat?

  The breath fled from her when he shifted, and a shimmer of bronze rippled through his hair. She couldn’t help but stare as her heart picked up its rhythm. Her pulse raced faster as she approached and perched on the edge of the rock, only inches from him. Fresh water, pine, and damp earth teased her nostrils as she stared down at him curiously.

  Never in her life had she come across a man who would dare close his eyes in her presence.

  A strange warmth stirred within her, but she assumed it to be curiosity. Men were strange creatures, she decided.

  “I can’t decide if you are foolish or brave to close your eyes when I could just as well plunge a dagger into your chest,” she said casually, eyeing the small bit of chest hair poking out from the top of his shirt.

  The smile returned to his previously serious face, but he still didn’t open his eyes. A cat, indeed. No matter how tempting the idea, she refused to stroke his hair to see if he would arch his back at her touch.