No excuses.

None whatsoever.

Especially not the rain.

Calle gritted his teeth as his perspiration mingled with the heavy sheets of rain falling from gray skies. It obscured the view of the village like a thick fog. Yet, he inhaled its cleansing mist and lifted his head to further drench his face and bare chest. 

His arms shook with the strain of keeping the stack of crates from crashing to the ground. A rope wound around the crates, which then stretched around a pulley secured to a high branch of a tree, and finally the ends of the rope rested in his hands.

He released a labored breath as he lowered the stack and then pulled on the rope again to raise them. His entire body wanted to give out, but he’d been pushing himself harder and harder these past couple of months.

Courage. Strength. Bravery. Endurance. Honor. Love. Sacrifice.

These words were forever etched onto his skin, and he wanted more than anything to live up to them.

Releasing one last breath, he carefully lowered the crates, not stopping to catch his breath as he backed up several paces. The sun may have been hidden behind clouds, but he still felt its power flickering beneath his skin.

Concentration rested on his brow as he dug deep within himself to find the sun’s elusive power. But the magic shied away from him as if it were held prisoner in its own cell of darkness.

Nonetheless, he continued reaching for it. He widened his stance and lifted his hands to point at the nearby tree. Minutes passed. Nothing happened. 

He planted his feet more firmly and imagined an explosion of searing sunlight bursting from his fingertips. Still nothing.

After standing still while having a staring contest with the tree, he finally dropped his hands in a wave of frustration. The red, scarred brand on his forearm taunted him, reminding him he was still a slave as long as it marked his arm. Even Cian hadn’t been able to remove it.

The frustration tore at him until he could stand it no longer. He picked up Skaja’s dagger from the base of the cottage and attacked the scarecrow dummy he’d created. Head. Neck. Heart. Bits and pieces of straw flew in all directions.

He traded the dagger for Cian’s precious sword. Instead of unnecessarily blunting the weapon by using it against the target, he practiced his footwork. Still sloppy. He’d never been good at fighting with a one-handed sword. He used to fight with a greatsword, and unfortunately, trading it for a lighter weapon wasn’t easy without a teacher.

His wrist burned with pain as he held the sword in both hands. But at least this time, he didn’t drop it. The muscles in his hand and wrist were growing stronger.

Almost too slowly.

Spattering rain drowned out all noise, making him feel as if he were in his own private cloud. So, when he heard a scuff behind him, he spun around.

The pounding fear in his heart quickly turned into shock when he found himself gazing back at a beautiful harpy. Skaja’s golden-white wings drooped, soaked with rain. Her brown hair clung to her face and shoulders. Fatigue rested beneath her eyes. But the pain in her expression gave him pause. When he wanted to run to her and spin her in his arms with the joy of seeing her again, he remained rooted to the spot. 

The roaring rain almost claimed her words. “You’re Prince Calle Everdon.” 

Her expression begged him to contradict her. He remained quiet, even when his pulse thundered in surprise. How did she find out? Why was she here? Did she come alone?

But when no one joined her in their cloud of rain, he relaxed.

“I think this is a conversation best held indoors, out of the rain.” He reached out to touch her but thought better of it and retracted his hand. Instead, he tied Skaja’s stone to his left wrist, gathered up his weapons, and guided her inside. She followed.

The smell of old wood and musty books greeted them, with a hint of sweet leaf tea lingering in the background. Rain pattered against the rooftop, leaking through the worn patchwork in several places. One of the buckets began to overflow, so he picked it up off the ground, opened the wooden shutters, and tossed the water out before replacing it beneath the leakage.

When he turned, he caught Skaja staring at him from where she stood in the doorway. A blush filled her cheeks, and she quickly glanced away. 

A wave of excitement and satisfaction churned within him. Perhaps he was starting to look how he used to years ago instead of gaunt and underweight. He quickly tried to push the feeling back down.

He disappeared beneath the folding screen beside the bed and pulled on a dry shirt and trousers. He came back out with a blanket tucked beneath his arm, only to find Skaja glancing about warily.

“I’m alone, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said as he handed the blanket to her and watched as she wrapped it around her shivering shoulders. “Cian hasn’t returned from Heulwen yet, and his last letter hasn’t said anything about him returning soon.”

When she still said nothing, his mouth worked its way into a frown. He crouched beside the hearth, wishing to start a fire with his magic. Instead, he settled for flint and steel. A fire quickly sparked to life. He moved to the stove next and poured a couple cups of tea. Still warm, though not as warm as he would have liked.

Skaja took the cup from him and stared into the hearth as the flames continued to rise. While she sat on the sofa, he perched cautiously on the arm.

“It’s good to see you,” he said finally, breaking the tense silence between them. “I wasn’t sure if I would. How did you find me?”

She gave him a teasing half-grin. “I just located the stench of fae slave and followed.” 

He cracked a smile at her humor, grateful for the jest. “I don’t stink. Anymore,” he amended as he thought of how long he’d gone without a proper bath in the Pits. “How did you really find me?” 

She nodded to her dagger he’d placed on the kitchen table. “My dagger has a pair. It located its other half. Why else do you think I gave it to you, other than to be able to find you and finish my original job?”

“You can’t kill me,” he chuckled. “I think you left it behind because you couldn’t help the urge in your blood.”

The air once again stiffened with tension. Dozens upon dozens of words swirled in his mind, but he couldn’t grasp onto any long enough to form a proper sentence. How were they supposed to start this conversation? What did she want to know? What lines should he avoid stepping over?

“You never told me your name,” she accused finally, giving him a characteristic glare.

He shrugged and took a long sip of his tea. Its naturally sweet flavor coated his tongue. “I didn’t intentionally hide my identity from you. I honestly forgot. In the Pits, it’s easy to lose yourself. You start answering to ‘slave’ or ‘worthless cretin’. No one has called me by my name in a very long time.”

“Calle. Everdon.”

His body hummed pleasantly in response to the way his name fell from her lips. He liked hearing it. A lot. 

Reaching across several feet to the hearth, Calle grabbed a fire poker and encouraged the flames to grow with a few prods. “I want to think you came to visit because you like my company...” He turned to grin at her. She did not appear amused. “Tell me the real reason why you’re here.”

She tucked herself further beneath the blanket as if to make herself smaller. “The valkyrie leader, Paula, confirmed your story. She stole me from my parents. To give me a life of freedom rather than servitude. And I’m...angry.” Her jaw clenched and her eyes grew misty. “Angry at her. Angry at you. Angry at my parents. Angry at myself.” She whispered, “I’m so confused.”

Her head dropped into her hands, her wings drooping where she sat. Caution led his actions as he set his tea aside and slid onto the cushion next to her. He warily lifted his hand and placed it on her shoulder as she had once done for him. Instead of shifting away like he thought she might, she leaned into his touch. He dared to trail his fingers across her shoulders while trying his best to avoid touching her blanket-covered wings. When he had her firmly in his grasp, he slowly pulled her toward him until her head rested against his chest.

A different kind of tension filled the cottage. Heat crawled up his body and encouraged his heart to beat faster and faster until he was certain she might hear it where her ear rested against him. 

He wasn’t sure what surprised him more—his own reaction to her proximity, or the fact that she didn’t move away.

“Will you tell me about them?” she whispered. “I want to learn about my parents.”

He swallowed, his gaze far away as he tried to figure out where to start. “Avonia and Typheal had a special bond with my family. They were my parents’ personal guards, though more like family than anything. They laughed with us, ate with us, played with us.” A smile lifted his lips as he recalled the fond memories. “I remember playing with you too, as much as a six-year-old could play with a one-year-old.”

She inhaled sharply, and her body stiffened, but she still didn’t retreat.

Continuing, he said, “Our parents often joked that I would choose you as my bride when I turned twenty-one because of how often I sought you out. But then...” A storm of emotion clouded his memories, and the room grew colder despite the roaring fire in the hearth. “You were in the courtyard, but then suddenly...you were gone. Your parents were frantic. The entire palace searched for you for a long time. Months. Years. They left no kingdom untouched.”

“I always thought...” She shivered against him, but he didn’t dare pull her any closer in fear she would retract from him completely. “I always thought they abandoned me. Paula led me to believe it. I feel...cheated. Betrayed. So very confused.” 

The pain in her voice constricted his heart. “You certainly weren’t abandoned. You were very loved.” Another wave of heartache crashed into him as he recalled their despair. “They were never quite the same afterward. Never had another child. Withdrew from many activities with my family. At least until my parents were killed in a shipwreck when I was sixteen. They took it hard and often blamed themselves for not being there with them. The two of them became family after the incident, as if they were my own parents.”

He shifted to hide his gathering emotions when she glanced up at him. He cleared his throat and continued. “I knew something awful was going to happen the day Nyana was killed. I told them to let Liam have his way with me. I knew it would put them in danger if they interfered. They fought by my side despite my plea.”

“What happened to them?” she asked hoarsely.       

His gaze darted to the plume of white feathers sticking out of the blanket. “Avonia was allowed to remain working at the palace. Typheal’s wings were...taken, and Liam cast him out of the kingdom and branded him as a traitor.”

Skaja’s eyes widened in horror, and this time she pulled away from him and climbed to her feet as if to put distance between them. “They severed his wings?” 

The alarm in her expression kept him from nodding, but she must have taken his silence as acknowledgement. All too suddenly, her shock turned to anger. A part of him expected her to slap him, but her hand remained within the confines of the blanket.

“Why didn’t you release them from their blood oath?” Her voice hitched, on the verge of shouting.

Knowing her temperament, he forced his own voice to remain calm and steady. “To offer is considered an insult, Skaja. Harpies are...prideful...and they consider it an honor to serve. If your parents wanted to be released, they would have made a formal request in front of the council.”

“Why would anyone want to serve the likes of you and Liam?” she shouted. “Paula was right to take me away. I could never serve a monster against my will.”

Monster... 

The likes of you and Liam... 

No one had ever compared him to his brother in such a way. Pain slammed its fists against his heart as he stared back at Skaja in the stony silence of the cottage. When the fire crackled in the hearth, they both jumped.

The pain in his chest festered like a bleeding sun. But still he tried his best to remain calm. “Skaja, I know you’re angry, though I’m not sure why your anger is directed at me. What have I done to warrant being a monster?”

“I didn’t mean you.” She twisted a ring on her finger, and he caught the faintest glimpse of gold. “But you could have helped them.”

Now it was his turn to place his head in his hands. “You don’t know Liam. He’s worse than he sounds.” He rubbed the sudden ache in his temples. “Harpies swear themselves to fealty to protect the royal family. What happens when two brothers are trying to kill each other? Whose side do they take? Who do they protect? Each harpy had to make a decision. I can’t imagine it was easy.” He lifted his head and met her eye. “What was I supposed to do, Skaja? They made their choice. But in the end, I couldn’t help them. I couldn’t even help myself.” 

“Because Liam sent you to the Pits.”

He nodded. “My brother would never subject me to an easy fate like death. He wanted me to suffer.”

“And perhaps he also believed you threatened his position on the throne.” She stared down at her hand and twisted the ring on her finger again. This time he caught a glimpse of the sun star. 

He gasped and jumped up to snatch her hand. He turned the ring, so the sun star faced him. “Where did you get this?”

When she tried to tug her hand away, he held on tighter just to make sure. Yes, this had come from Heulwen. Only those in the king’s service were allowed to keep them.

“It’s my trophy.”

In other words, she’d killed the man who had previously worn the ring. But why?

As if hearing his unspoken question, she explained, “Heulwen soldiers keep attacking our home, and I wasn’t sure why until now. I think your brother knows you’re no longer in the Pits.”

The blood drained from his face, and he finally dropped her hand. “He thinks the valkyries are keeping me prisoner?” They wouldn’t have found his body in the Pits. The next guess was either he escaped, or the valkyries had taken him. But what was Liam’s goal? To kill him and finish the job? Or to force him into a fate worse than the Pits? He couldn’t possibly imagine a more dreadful suffering.

He felt as if he stood in the middle of a triangle, and no matter which way he turned, his enemies came at him in all directions. Liam likely didn’t know where he was, and his best guess was with the valkyries.

“Are your valkyrie friends all right? Is anyone hurt?”

She raised an eyebrow high and loosened her grip on the blanket until her shoulders and the top of her wings peeked out the top. “You are worried about my friends? You do realize they would sooner kill you than allow you to live?”

“Yes, but...” His throat constricted when she allowed the blanket to drop entirely at her feet. Her beautiful wings extended halfway as if in an attempt to dry them by the fire’s glow. His gaze lingered on her bare shoulders and the metal beadwork clasped around a delicate neck.

“But?” she urged, snapping him out of his stupor. 

His gaze darted to her eyes, and he tried his best to keep it there as he stood. “Valkyries saved my life. You saved my life. I vowed to worship the very ground a valkyrie walked on and kiss the daylights out of them.” He smirked when her gaze darted to his lips. “But I realized that would sooner earn me a blade to the gut.”

“How very right you are.” Despite her words, he didn’t miss the flush that crawled up her neck.

“What I’m getting at is this—valkyries have my respect. I consider you my friend. I consider all of you my friends.”

Skaja laughed out loud, holding her belly as if she’d never heard anything funnier in her life. “You can’t be serious,” she snorted. She slowly advanced on him until she backed him up against the wall, and although she pointed a finger at his throat, he felt as if it were a dagger. “You are delusional, fae prince, if you think you can ever be friends with a valkyrie.”

“I stand by what I said.” He held his ground and met her glower unflinchingly. “You. Are. My. Friend.”

“I don’t make friends with men.”

“Then why are you still here?”

She slowly lowered her finger, and her glower transitioned into uncertainty. “I can’t go back,” she said miserably. “I can’t face Paula right now.”

“You can stay with me.”

“Here?” Her damp wings snapped close to her body, spraying droplets of water across the wood floor. Her gaze traveled around the small cottage, likely built with one person in mind who never received visitors. Each room was conjoined into one large one, offering very little livable space. 

Her hands rested on her hips as she spotted the bed. “I can’t stay here with you. You are a man.”

Despite her legitimate concern, his lips twitched in amusement. “And?” He sat on the edge of the kitchen table and crossed his ankles. “I’ve been accustomed to sleeping in a rocky cave with sharp pebbles digging into my back. I think I can manage sleeping on the sofa for a bit.”

“But...” Rain pounded on the roof in their momentary silence, and she bit her lip as she turned in another full circle. “What if your friend returns?”

“What about it?”

“Where would I go then?”

Calle quirked his head to the side as he studied her. A jolt of surprise traveled through him when he realized she really didn’t want to go back. She must have been more upset about her situation than she let on.

He pointed to the floor in front of him. “Here. You always have a place here.”

Before she managed a reply, he crossed the room to the small desk tucked into the corner. Crisp edges and crumpled papers brushed his fingers as he searched, and the scent of ink followed his progress. Finally, his fingers closed around an opened envelope. He grimaced as he handed it to her.

“I admit I was far too eager to hear from your parents, even if it hadn’t been meant for my eyes. Avonia—your mother,” he amended in case she forgot her name, “sent this letter to me to give to you if I saw you again.”

“Me?” she breathed as she traced the edges of the envelope with her fingertip. “How does she know already? I only found out the truth for certain yesterday.”

The entire universe halted when she glanced at the envelope, and then at the fire. Was she...? She wouldn’t, would she? He wasn’t sure if he could quite recite the contents of the letter by heart if she destroyed it.

In the end, she crossed the room and gazed out at the rain pounding against the window and bathing the cottage in a clean start. Her eyes became glassy. Emotional. Uncertain. 

“If you want...I could read it to you?”

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Raindrops broke through the anxious tension as they fell into the bowls throughout the room. Skaja’s wings drooped as if in tune with her mood. Her finger traced each edge of the envelope. The somber expression on her face broke his heart in two.

“I’m not sure I can do this.”

“That’s fine.” He gave her an encouraging smile. “Perhaps hold onto it for a while. Think about it.”

He started toward the door, and the moment his hand touched it, she called after him. “Where are you going?”

Giddiness fluttered through his stomach, surprising him. He still couldn’t believe Skaja had come back. This time, he hoped she wouldn’t leave. “To get more firewood.”