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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.
Soon, the valkyrie city of Crowbeak came into view. Bright blue water surrounded the island, nestled against a tall, steep cliff. Numerous trees blocked her view until she flew closer, over dozens of valkyrie huts situated in trees or made of rocks, mud, or straw on the ground. A waterfall cascaded off the steep cliff and crashed into the river below. The arena lay near the slowest section of the river, surrounded by griffin stalls, fields, and recreational buildings.
Three towers stretched high above the trees, billowing torches lighting each sentry standing on top. One of them nodded her head in greeting as she flew past, and she nodded back.
Crowbeak was whisper-silent, hushed after long days of planning the attack on the Pits and seeing it to fruition. No one wandered about at the late hour, and she glided toward the cliff without incident.
Nestled against the cliff, high above Crowbeak, lay her own abode. The sight of the circular structure with a thatched roof helped calm the storm brewing within her.
The silence of the night deafened her as her feet touched down on the wooden porch that wrapped around her circular hut. The whisper of her wings and light footfalls seemed amplified in the darkness as she unlatched her door, stepped inside the structure, and closed the door behind her. All her belongings stared back at her in the dim moonlight entering the windows. A stove tucked in the corner. A table in the middle of the room. A fireplace to keep her warm during chilly nights.
Several stairs creaked as she climbed to the second story, her fingers trailing over the railing winding upward.
Her bedroom remained the same as always, despite the week of her absence. A bed lay in the middle of the room with a large window on one side. The drapes fluttered in the light breeze to reveal the beautiful moon gleaming in the night sky. Weapons lined nearly every inch of one of the walls. Mostly beautiful jeweled daggers and magical artifacts she’d found over the years.
She slipped her boots off, and her bare feet padded softly across the room to her vanity. The woman in the mirror shocked her for a moment. She was different. Softer.
Reaching for the dagger strapped to her shoulder, she slammed it down on the wooden surface of the vanity and closed her eyes. Her knuckles strained against her strong grip on the weapon.
Far too many emotions tumbled inside her heart. Anger. Sadness. Shock. Disbelief. And above all, confusion.
Finally, she opened her eyes to stare at the lone dagger beneath her hand. Its pair remained with the fae man, because even after everything, she couldn’t help but leave behind some form of protection. A simple pickaxe wouldn’t be enough for the dangers ahead.
She reached behind her neck and unclasped the necklace portion of her outfit before unfastening several buttons. Her dress fell to the floor, leaving her in only her undergarments.
The birthmark beside her bellybutton stared back at her.
“How did you know?” she murmured, running a finger over the small mark.
His revelation couldn’t possibly be true. She was Skaja. Nothing more.
Tears pricked her eyes as she turned her gaze toward the window, watching as a torch flickered in the distance at the sentry tower. She couldn’t handle the idea that her entire life may have been a lie. It was easier to believe the lie than handle what may be the truth.
So, she climbed into the bed, tucked her wings close to her body, and allowed the confusion of the past few days to melt away like ice beneath the fire’s glow. The truth could stay buried. She didn’t want to dig it up.
“I am a valkyrie,” she whispered in the darkness. But her wings contradicted her as they ruffled with uncertainty. A part of her wasn’t sure what being a valkyrie meant anymore.
****
Skaja rose early, intent to start the day with as little distraction as possible. She bathed, dressed in clean clothing, donned her weapons, and just as the sun lifted into the sky, stretching its arms to welcome a new day, she jumped off her balcony and reveled in the feel of the wind against her face.
The ground came at her fast, but before she met it with a harsh impact, she spread her wings and swooped low over a field of wildflowers. The crisp, morning breeze sifted through her feathers and playfully tugged at her hair. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly as she glided over the river.
Her reflection followed her path through the air, and when she lightly touched the water directly beneath her, her image distorted on its surface.
Griffins flew above her with valkyries on their backs. They commanded the skies with ease, and she couldn’t help but join them in their flight. Freedom touched the tips of her wings, wiping away all traces of lingering uncertainty from the past few days. She was a valkyrie. In heart, mind, body, and soul. They lived for freedom. They valued and celebrated women of all walks of life.
A burst of joy shot through her. A smile spread across her face, and she spun several times through the air. All her worries disappeared like the gray clouds after a rainstorm.
“There you are!” Inari called out, startling her out of her carefree flight. Moments later, her friend glided beside her on a griffin, wings almost touching. “I thought I would have to patrol without you.”
Inari gave her a knowing look, which she batted away with a roll of her eyes. “I wouldn’t have missed it.”
“Liar. You always disappear. I ought to nail your wings to the ground.”
“Touch my wings and die.”
With a smirk, Inari spurred her griffin ahead, and she followed. The sun crested above the distant mountains as they made their rounds from the south end of the island, all the way to the north. The island wasn’t large, taking less than an hour to circle it in the skies. They dipped lower to patrol the rocky cliffs, and later the forests.
As always, the patrol proved futile. Anyone stupid enough to pay a visit to the valkyrie stronghold, if not a woman, would lose their life faster than they could blink.
“Where do you go when you disappear?” Inari asked with a smirk and a side glance. The wind swept her black locks over her mischievous eyes. “Taken an interest in some of the nearby village boys lately?”
“No!” she gasped. Heat climbed her neck and scorched her cheeks, only to grow hotter when her friend burst into laughter. “I’ve never been there before.”
Inari’s laughter died down, but her grin remained as they continued flying over the forest. “You’re great at killing men, but nothing more. I bet you have never spoken to one.”
Her blush refused to disperse as she recalled the fae man’s face. What would Inari do if she told her the truth about where she’d spent the last couple of days?
She couldn’t risk the information reaching Paula, so she said nothing.
“Look over there,” Skaja said suddenly when a silver glint caught her eye for a mere second. They circled around, searching the boughs below until they caught sight of the glint again.
Danger pricked the back of her neck, and instinctively, she reached for the daggers at her shoulders. However, her fingers clasped around only one. She held it tight in her hand, her gaze scanning the trees.
The two of them landed on soft forest earth. A stream trickled nearby. The wind howled as it weaved through the foliage. But birds and other forest critters alike remained silent. The back of her neck pricked again as she turned in a full circle. No sign of anything suspicious, but she trusted her gut. It had never failed her.
Inari inhaled deeply. Her long, curved ears twitched as if listening closely to the area around them. She dropped to one knee and placed a hand against the earth, her listening ears still twitching.
As a Forest Fae, she possessed an uncanny connection to the forest.
“Something’s not right,” Inari frowned, standing. “The forest isn’t happy.”
“What is—”
A battle cry from behind interrupted her sentence, followed by the tromping of feet and singing weapons.
Skaja reacted on instinct as she snapped her dagger open and spun around. A grunt escaped her as she blocked a sword, surprised by the sheer strength behind the attack. She kicked the attacker in the stomach. When he stumbled backward, she sliced the man across the gut and ducked to dodge the swing of another sword. She stabbed her dagger into the man’s chest and spun around again, her senses now on high alert.
But all was still.
The final attacker lay on the ground, bleeding from a wound Inari had dealt.
She breathed heavily, her eyes wide as her gaze darted back and forth to each of the three dead men.
“Are there anymore?” she gasped, briefly glancing her friend’s way.
Inari’s grip remained tight on her staff as her ears twitched, but finally, she shook her head. “The forest is appeased.” She nudged one of the bodies with the end of her staff, more specifically, the man’s ears. “Bloody crows. Look at this.”
Skaja stepped over several small puddles of river water mixed with blood and stood next to her friend. The man’s ears were long and flat against his head. “He’s from the Sun Kingdom.”
With a nod, Inari checked the other two lying lifeless on the ground. Sure enough, each of them had similar ears. “Any idea why they’re here? I don’t know anyone foolish enough to come to our island, especially as a small group of three.”
“Me neither,” she murmured. She knelt and checked each of their pockets, only to come up empty. A glint caught her eye, and she turned one of the men’s hands over to reveal a gold ring with the sun star emblem sitting on his pinky.
Her heart shot to her throat, and she nearly dropped the hand in her shock. “These aren’t any regular Heulwen men. These are royal guards.”
Inari swore under her breath and kicked one of the dead men in the ribs. As if unsatisfied that he didn’t grunt, she kicked him again.
“How did we gain the attention of the Sun King?” Skaja asked as she placed her hands on her hips and surveyed the surrounding area. But no other men rushed out of the trees. They were alone. “You don’t think it was the attack on the Pits, do you? The ravine isn’t even in his kingdom.”
Her friend ran both hands through her hair. “Good question.”
She stooped once more, slid the ring off the man, and closed her fingers around it. “This one is mine.”
“Really?” Inari raised both eyebrows high. “But you don’t take trophies.”
“No, but I want this.” The symbol resembled the tattoo of the fae man from the Sun Kingdom, the ring a reminder of him. Her heart wasn’t keen on letting him go completely. She could almost see his face inside the sun star.
“We’ll take another to show Paula.” Inari secured her own ring as well. “She should know what happened here.”
They both took to the skies, and as they made their way across the expanse of blue, she gazed down at the ring in her hand. She twisted the piece of jewelry every which way to inspect the symbol before sliding it onto her middle finger. A part of her worried the attack might be a message. Whatever followed couldn’t possibly be good.