A Breath of Sunlight Read online

  “I trust you.”

  “Foolish then.” Skaja drew her dagger, snapped it open, and placed the tip over his heart. His entire body stiffened, but his eyes remained closed. Only feet away, the gushing river flooded the momentary silence between them. “Never trust a valkyrie.”

  Slowly, he swallowed as if aware any type of movement might get him pricked by the tip of the blade. “I never said I trusted valkyries. I said I trusted you.”

  “Why?”

  He opened his eyes, and she found a pool of amber gazing back at her. His mouth opened and closed as if contemplating his next words, but then finally he said, “Because you have shown me kindness.”

  “Kindness means nothing in a cruel world.”

  “It means everything.”

  They gazed at each other for a few moments before she withdrew her dagger and returned it to the sheath on the back of her shoulder. How could he possibly be so sanguine after everything he’d endured? Why wasn’t he angry? Vengeful? Sought out to destroy those who cut up the pieces of his life and lit them on fire?

  She lifted her hand and held it palm up. “Take my hand.”

  “Pardon?” Suspicion deepened the furrow in his eyebrows.

  “Just do it.”

  Tentatively, he placed his right hand in hers. Warmth sparked through her fingertips, traveled up her arm, and spread across her cheeks. “No, I meant your other hand.”

  Even more cautiously, he lifted his left hand and threaded his fingers through hers. A drove of butterflies fluttered in her stomach at the touch. She curiously studied their intertwined fingers, their hands palm to palm. A flicker of gold caught her attention as she noticed the tattoo on his wrist. It was a beautiful design, and for a moment, she wondered what it symbolized.

  And then her gaze traveled to his face. Surprise jolted through their shared eye contact and to her wings. Her feathers ruffled, and she was powerless against their reaction as her wings grew larger with interest. Something in his expression changed. The amber in his eyes softened. His lips turned upward the slightest bit.

  This was not all right. It was one thing to save a man from death. It was something else entirely to feel a stirring of emotions for one.

  Panic shot through her like an arrow to the heart, and she twisted his hand.

  He cried out in pain and attempted to jerk out of her grip, but she held on tight. His eyes watered. His expression contorted with both confusion and agony.

  “You have a lot of weaknesses, Mr. Sunshine,” she said with a growl in the undertones of her voice. “Squeeze my hand.”

  “N-n-no.” He sat up and attempted to tug free from her, but she held on tighter.

  “Squeeze it,” she repeated, now glaring. “As hard as you can.”

  “L-l-let go.” The fingers of his other hand inched toward the pickaxe on his belt. Although he touched the handle, he didn’t draw the weapon.

  “Not until you do as I say.”

  Several more pained tears gathered behind his eyes as he complied. He hissed through his teeth despite the small amount of pressure he applied to her hand. His fingers trembled, and as if the strength suddenly left them, the pressure died completely. He gasped, and only then did she release him.

  He turned his back to her and cradled his hand to his chest. She hopped down from the rock and gave him space to nurse the wound as well as his injured pride. Finally, she understood what the tattoo on his wrist was. Although she didn’t know what it symbolized, she realized it covered a scar. A deep scar.

  “Who hurt you?” she asked as she studied the forest surrounding them, not meeting his gaze. Pine trees stretched tall and wide. Long grass nearly hid the path they traveled. The dark woods lingered behind them as if waiting to reach out and drag them into their depths. “Or did you do it yourself?”

  “N-n-no.” She heard him take a deep breath before his voice steadied. “My brother...” His words trailed off as if trying to hide the deep ache within himself. However, she still detected it. “He is a prideful, angry man. I was learning the healing art from several elder healers when it happened. Like I mentioned before, he was jealous of my ability to use magic.” He winced as if remembering the incident. “It was only a year after our parents died in an accident. He’d been drinking. We got into an argument. It came to blows. I didn’t come out as the victor.”

  “Your brother sounds like an awful bastard.”

  He didn’t reply, and she turned to find him gazing at the river, his eyes far away. A spark of heat flashed through her when she wondered if he was thinking about the woman he’d lost. The one he’d loved.

  Envy.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and ran a hand through her hair. What the devil was going on with her?

  “Let’s keep going,” she suggested, glancing back at the dark boughs of forest behind them. “I was serious about those chupacabras.”

  Calle’s hand pulsed with continuous agony, and to try to keep the valkyrie from witnessing his pain, he took the lead on the path ahead. What had that been about? One moment, she seemed to be warming up to him, and the next she exploited his greatest weakness. How did she know about it?

  A wide stretch of muddied water slithered across the road ahead, and he released a weary sigh. His body wanted to collapse and sleep for a few years rather than finish the journey to meet his trusted family friend. His determination and need for survival were the only things that fueled him and kept him going forward.

  But he wasn’t sure how much more he could endure.

  He took one careful step and used a rock as a foothold, and then another step on a patch of muddy grass. On the next step, his foot slipped, and instead of catching himself with his left hand, he shifted his body at the last second, so his shoulder took the brunt of the fall.

  Half his body lay soaked and muddied, and he wanted to lie there and rest despite the fast-approaching evening and the dangers lurking within the woods. He cursed his weak body. Six years ago, he would have made this journey easily. But now it felt as if he were crossing oceans rather than journeying to a nearby town.

  “Get up.” Skaja’s voice broke through his haze of exhaustion.

  The long stretch of clouds above shifted to allow the sunlight to break through. The rays stroked his skin, but it wasn’t enough to give him the energy he needed to continue forward. If he just had his magic...

  She grabbed his chin, and he wearily opened his eyes to meet her brown gaze. Pretty eyes. Brown with flecks of gold to match her hair and wings.

  “We’ll make camp just up the ridge and off the path. Keep going a little further.”

  Somehow, he found the energy to push himself onto his hands and knees, and then he stood on shaky legs. His head pounded. His shoulder throbbed. His back ached. And his soul wilted.

  How pathetic he must look to Skaja.

  Still, gratitude swelled within him. He never would have traveled this far without her.

  He was hardly aware of following her off the beaten path and into a small clearing before he slumped onto the ground, his back against a log. Sleep immediately dragged him into the darkness, and he slept like the sun on a particularly wintry day, at least until something thunked beside him.

  His head shot up, and he blinked back confusion to find a campfire flickering across the space between him and Skaja. The sky had grown dark, stars now twinkling across the deep blue blanket.

  Turning his head to find what had woken him, he spotted a smooth black stone lying only a foot away.

  “You missed,” he said as he picked it up.

  “I wasn’t aiming for you,” Skaja scoffed, though he didn’t miss the tender note in her voice. “It’s for your hand. Squeeze it in your palm. For hours. Every day. It will strengthen the weak muscles.”

  Warmth cascaded into him at the thoughtful gesture. He brushed a thumb along the smooth surface. “It’s a hopeless cause. Even a renowned healer couldn’t fix it.”

  “Fix it? No. You will probably have an injured hand for the rest of your life. But strengthening it is another story altogether. You can’t hold a simple bag, but you can change that. Your hand still works. Now use it.”

  Although the last thing he wanted to do was hurt himself while attempting to strengthen his hand, he pocketed the stone anyway.

  When he opened his mouth to speak, she interrupted by handing him something straight off the fire. Smoke billowed off the surface, emitting a mouthwatering aroma. He didn’t question what it was and devoured it. It could have been roasted dung and he still would have eaten it. Maybe.

  And when she handed him a waterskin, he thirstily consumed its contents. “Sorry,” he coughed as he wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. “I don’t have manners anymore.”

  Judging by her twitching mouth, she found it more amusing than insulting.

  “If you did, I would assume your captors had taken better care of you.”

  A shudder ran through him at the thought of his time in the Pits. He blankly stared at the fire as he recalled the backbreaking work, the frequent punishments, the despair and hopelessness.

  Six years...

  Where would he be now if he hadn’t endured slavery? Where would he be if Liam had chosen another bride other than Nyana? Would the two of them be married? With children? Or would they have taken different paths?

  A pit of guilt formed in his stomach. He was a completely different person now compared to six years ago. Would he still choose her if she had survived? Would she have chosen him?

  He wasn’t sure anymore, and the confusion ate at him.

  “Will you tell me about her?” Skaja asked, breaking him out of his horrifying memories.

  “About who?”

  “You know exactly who I’m talking about.”

  He
blew out a long breath as he gazed into the fire. Speaking of her was difficult, but recalling her happy, smiling face wasn’t. “Nyana was kind. Gentle. Beautiful. A pure soul full of light and sunshine. She deserved the world.” He paused as a frown formed on his face. “I’m not sure she’d like the person I have become. The things I have done since becoming a slave.”

  “Like what?”

  His shoulder lifted in a shrug. “I killed several slave masters. I wished to end my own suffering on multiple occasions. I have become angry and bitter and...empty. I am a hollow shell of what I once was.” He covered his face with his hand when a tumult of emotions churned within him. “I’m not sure where to begin looking to find myself again.”

  With his eyes still covered, he heard her stand, pebbles scraping beneath her boots. For a moment, he thought she began to leave, but then the log beside him dipped with sudden weight. A gentle hand rested on his shoulder. His body stilled with shock. A valkyrie was comforting a man?

  He dared to lift his free hand and placed it on top of hers. Warmth settled into the aches of his fingers and wrist. She didn’t pull away.

  “I can’t begin to imagine the horrors you experienced,” she said quietly. “I understand a small portion only from what the female slaves we rescued have said. Some of them didn’t speak at all. Others looked like haunted shells of themselves.”

  A few moments of silence passed between them, though their contact remained.

  She continued, “I assumed you weren’t angry or bitter. You hide it well.”

  “It doesn’t do anyone any good to focus on it. I can’t change what happened. I can only move forward.”

  “What are you going to do? Return home? Challenge your brother? Kill him? I can help if you want.”

  At the moment, he had no plans other than simply surviving and escaping his brother’s imminent fury. But for now...he didn’t plan on returning to Heulwen. It would put him in grave danger.

  Calle chuckled and envisioned her enjoying herself as she fought a small army of men. But there were far too many for a lone valkyrie. She’d have to fight through soldiers, guards, and perhaps even harpies like herself.

  At the reminder, his attention shifted to her wings. He’d waited long enough. He needed to have this conversation with her.

  She dropped her hand from his shoulder and asked, “Why do you keep looking at my wings? I’ve caught you several times now.”

  His heart pounded as he tried to find the words on his tongue. To give him a few more moments to formulate an answer, he grabbed a nearby stick and drew absently in the dirt. “I apologize. I don’t mean to. I just...” He swallowed and concentrated on adding sharp edges to the sun star drawing. “Your wings are a unique color.”

  Too unique to mistake.

  She nodded warily. “I’m the only harpy with these wings.”

  He paused the drawing, this time braving to look into her eyes. Despite what danger might come his way from this, Skaja deserved to know the truth. “No, you’re not.”

  The feathers of her wings ruffled as if in tune with her emotions. A flicker of fear flashed across her eyes and disappeared just as quickly. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying I know who you are. Or who you were. I know your real name. And I know who your mother is.” And her father. But she’d inherited her wings from her mother.

  This time, her feathers remained still as she stared at him. He imagined the shock she must feel. How would she react to the news that she had been abducted at a young age?

  Anger flashed across her face, and she snarled at him, baring her teeth as she leaped to her feet. “You know nothing, fae slave. Keep your mouth shut, or I will shut it for you.”

  Curious. She didn’t want to know...

  But it was something she needed to know. Even if he risked scaring her away or angering her further.

  Continuing in spite of her threat, he said, “You are twenty-one years old, born on the day before the winter solstice.” She began arguing over him, but he raised his voice. “You have a birthmark by your belly button. In the winter, the gold in your hair likely fades to bronze, like your father’s. Your name is—”

  Her scream cut off his sentence as if she tried to prevent herself from hearing. Her hand clamped around his mouth, but he persisted, his next words muffled.

  “—Scarlett Svera.”

  Skaja shoved his face away. She avoided eye contact, and instead of anger, a deep melancholy entered her expression. Her wings drooped, her longest feathers touching the ground where she stood.

  “You are wrong,” she murmured. “I am just Skaja.”

  When he cupped her hand between both of his, she remained still. “You are much, much more.” The way she held her body away from him told him she itched to leave...and he would let her go. “When you are ready to learn, come and find me.”

  She pulled her hand out of his grip and said nothing, not even bidding him farewell, before she spread her wings and leaped into the sky. A brick dropped into his stomach at the thought of never seeing her again. What if she never came back?

  Feelings of confusion tightened in his gut as he placed his head in his hands. Nyana was supposed to be his one true love. Then why did he feel a fond warmth for the valkyrie?

  He doused the warmth with a bucket of ice. He refused to care for another whom he could easily lose. Not again. He could not endure such pain a second time. And allowing himself to fall for Skaja would only burn him. He had to try to stop these feelings before they found root in fertile soil.

  His head shot out of his hands, and he cursed his stupidity.

  She didn’t even know his name.

  He fought past the fatigue in his body and climbed to his feet, gazing up at the skies above. But he found no sign of Skaja, not even a glimpse of golden-white wings. If she would only give him another few minutes, he could explain everything and where she fit into his world.

  However, she didn’t return.

  After witnessing her expression, he feared she never would.

  Guilt churned within his core. Avonia and Typheal might be dead, all because they had fought to save his life. What if Skaja never got to meet them?

  A flicker of light caught his attention in the corner of his eye, and he turned to find one of her daggers lying on the ground beside the fire.

  Carefully, he scooped it up and inspected it before searching the vicinity for its pair.

  Nothing.

  He squeezed his eyes shut and held the folded weapon against his aching chest. Although he had only known Skaja for a short time, she had done so much for him. Words simply could not express his feelings of gratitude and fondness.

  The valkyrie had saved his life, rescued him from the worst kind of existence, and wormed her way into his heart. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

  Tears fell from Skaja’s eyes like silent raindrops as she flew across the darkened skies. The fae man had been correct. About her birthday. Her age. Her hair in the winter. And her birthmark—she was positive she had never undressed in front of him... How could he have known all those things?

  She wiped the tears from her cheeks, but they kept coming.

  Earlier he had mentioned looking for information about a couple named Avonia and Typheal Svera. Who were they? Her parents?

  And why had they abandoned her?

  Knowing their names only solidified her heartache. Why hadn’t they wanted her? Had she done something wrong, even as a baby? What was the fae man’s connection to her parents? Had she really been abducted as a child? Or could it be possible the man was somehow mistaken?

  With a start, she realized she had headed in the direction of home. An unfamiliar pain echoed in her heart, but she pressed forward. She didn’t want to be near the man again. His presence only created confusion and uncomfortable, unfamiliar feelings. Besides, she feared what he might say.

  The pain in her chest continued when she realized she didn’t plan on going back. She’d done enough, and she had no further duty to him. Besides, she was a valkyrie. Men were not a factor in her life. Not even him.

  She flew across the dark skies, not stopping once. Blessedly, her thoughts eventually transitioned into an empty numbness. A cool wind whipped her hair back, and the sweet taste of midnight lingered around the corner.