“Get up! You have a lot to do today,” a woman said in a sing-song voice moments before a bright light blinded Skaja. Her eyes flew open right as Calle groaned and turned away. 

Light entered the room from what looked to be windows, likely an illusion in the underground fortress. Her mother, Avonia, turned but then froze. “Oh!” Her eyes widened in shock as she looked from her, to Calle, and back to her where they cuddled on the bed.

“Five more minutes,” Calle groaned again. He reached for Skaja’s wing and spread it so her feathers bathed his face in shadow to block out the bright intrusion.

Avonia’s mouth moved, but no sound escaped. Although Skaja’s daggers lay on the bed side table only a foot away, she knew her mother was no threat. So instead, she rested her head back on the pillow beside Calle while watching her mother warily. Embarrassment heated her cheeks, though she felt like she had done nothing wrong.

“What...?” her mother finally breathed. “What are you two doing? Together? In here?” 

He yawned, exposing all his teeth to her. “Obviously, she was scared of the dark. Came in here to bother me. Didn’t get much sleep because she snores.” 

Skaja laughed and kicked him in the foot. “I do not. You slept like a valkyrie after midnight watch. Why are you so tired?” 

He yawned again. “Other than you chatting my ear off all night? I’m making up for six years’ worth of bad sleep.” He started drifting off, but she kicked him in the shin. “Ow!” 

“Fall asleep again and it will be my knee to your groin.”

He opened his eyes to glare at her. “Coming from you, I know you’re serious.” 

At last, he shifted in the bed until he sat up and his bare feet smacked the floor. His clothes were rumpled from sleeping in them all night, similar to hers. “Brr! This place is cold. Brings back some rather unpleasant memories.” His hair stuck out in all directions, his eyelids halfway closed.

Avonia cleared her throat. “Prince Calle, you’re needed in the council room. I’ll just...” She blinked a couple times in confusion as if she didn’t know what to do. “I’ll step outside for a minute.”

The moment the door closed behind her, Calle said, “Your poor mother. Can’t chastise a prince for sleeping in the same bed with her daughter. Can’t chastise her daughter because there is no motherly relationship there.”

Guilt swam like piranhas through her blood. Though, it wasn’t her fault they had no relationship. It was Paula’s fault. She didn’t know how to fix it. She didn’t know if she wanted to.

“I’m glad it wasn’t your father,” he continued as he rifled through his drawers. “Or another male servant.”

“I already promised I wouldn’t harm anyone while I’m here.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, his eyes still squinting through the haze of bright light. It seemed even after a few months of being above ground, he wasn’t quite used to it. “I know you will intentionally keep that promise. But what about unintentionally? Your first instinct is to protect yourself by killing.”

She frowned because he was right. “It will take some time, Calle.”

“I know.” Despite his squinting eyes, his expression softened. “I never thought any of this would be easy. But I’m glad you are here.”

“Me too.” Nervous? Yes. Uncertain? Yes. Uncomfortable? Also, yes. But still glad. And she was grateful to him for making this transition easier. “Where do I fit in here?” she asked as she slid off the bed and stretched her wings. A smirk grew across her mouth when she caught him watching with wide, mystified eyes. 

After several blinks, he said, “I don’t know how to answer that for you. In another life, you would have been a personal guard to the royal family. But we’re in this life instead. I don’t want you as my guard.”

Her wings ruffled as she took his comment as an insult. “Why? You don’t think I can protect you?”

He chuckled and leaned one shoulder against the wardrobe as he gazed across the room at her. “I warned you about the blood oath. Harpies are prideful when it comes to their duties. A harpy must ask to be released from a blood oath because it is an insult to suggest otherwise. I should have given you a choice when I released you from the oath.”

“Yes, you should have. A choice would have been nice.”

With a sigh, he shook his head and gave her a look sad enough to twist her gut. “You tried to give your life to save mine. I absolutely will not let it happen again.”

“I would have done it even without the oath.”

Shocked silence. 

But it was true. Just the thought of him coming to any harm created an ache inside her heart.

With a start, she realized it was her own heart she felt, and not Calle’s. She couldn’t feel his heart at all. The temporary soul bond had vanished.

The knife twisted further in her gut at the loss of connection. No blood oath. No soul bond.

“I wish I could do the same for you,” he replied finally. “I would definitely try, but we both know I’m a lousy fighter.”

“Yes, you are,” she laughed, playfully shoving his shoulder. “You stand a chance against another lousy fighter, but not against a valkyrie.”

He grimaced and shuddered. “I know. You are terrifying. Inari is terrifying. I almost lost my head twice. And like I said before, I like it much better on my shoulders.” He paused. “And...for what it’s worth...there’s no one I trust more with my life than you.”

Emotion clogged her throat. Tears swam in her eyes. Never in her life had she imagined a man saying those words to her. It was almost as if she held his magical glass flower in her hands again, and this time, she cradled it close to her heart. The object was far too fragile to risk breaking.

“Now get out of here,” he said with a devilish grin, waving his folded clothes in the air. “Don’t watch me get dressed.” He mouthed, “Or do.” 

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve already seen you naked.” 

“Half naked,” he corrected. “You couldn’t see the other half in the water.” 

“How was I supposed to know men and women don’t bathe together?”

“Well, now you do.”

He waggled his eyebrows and mouthed, “Join me anytime you want.”

She smacked his arm with her closed dagger and left the room in a huff, even as his laughter trailed after her. She jumped when she found her mother leaning against the wall, far too close to the door for comfort. Had she been there the entire time? What had she heard?

Her playful mood died instantly, replaced by wariness in her mother’s presence.

Still unsure whether she was friend or foe, she sized her up with one sweep of her gaze. Her golden-white wings matched her own exactly as if she faced a mirror. Her hair and eyes she’d inherited from her father, but she recognized herself in the shape of her mother’s face.

They stood facing each other awkwardly, neither knowing what to say.

“Are you hungry?” her mother finally asked with a nervous smile. “I’ll take you to the banquet hall. The food isn’t too fancy. Feeding hundreds of people is difficult, but we make it work.”

With a nod, Skaja followed her down the hallway, trusting Calle would find his own way.

She gave her mother a sideways glance. Her shoulders slumped with fatigue. Dark circles rested behind her eyes. “You haven’t slept,” she commented.

Avonia shook her head sadly. “I still work at the palace, and I just returned from my shift. I have to keep this place a secret. And my relationship with Typheal too.”

Her wings ruffled in surprise. “Why?”

A sad smile. “If the wrong people find out I’ve been meeting him, I will be branded a traitor as well.”

“You’ve been meeting him in secret for six years?”

“I have. He’s my husband. Well, he was, but the king broke our marriage after the incident with Calle.” Her expression turned wistful. “I’m looking forward to the day I can remarry him.”

“Why not remarry him somewhere else?”

“It’s not so easy as that. No priest in any kingdom would marry us when he has those tattoos. It would be putting a target on their own heads.”

They passed people in the hallway. Many were men, and the discomfort of it caused her to walk closer to the wall with one dagger in her hand, ready to be snapped open. Many of them stared at her as if curious.

Without tearing her gaze away from potential threats, she asked the one question burning in her mind, “Why didn’t you have another child?”

Avonia’s eyes watered and her chin trembled. They stopped for a moment when she reached out to the wall as if strength fled from her, and she only just barely managed to keep herself in one piece. “Because you were our miracle baby. W-w-we—” She took a deep breath and cleared her throat. “We struggled for years to have a child. Succeeding a second time was not possible.”

Uncomfortable with the sudden display of emotion, Skaja ducked into her room to retrieve her shoes, and when she reemerged, Avonia stood waiting. They continued to the banquet hall. 

Several long tables stretched across the room, many of them occupied. Like the antechamber, large windows let in light from the high-vaulted ceilings. The low hum of conversation filled the room, and even as she piled a plate with bread, cheese, and dried meat, she never turned her back to anyone. She ended up standing rather than sitting at any of the tables. Avonia joined her.

Her heart skittered with anxious energy, and her wings stiffened the moment her father stepped through the doors. His gaze found them, but he didn’t approach. He smiled. She didn’t return the favor.

Perhaps someday she would find herself comfortable in his presence. That day wasn’t today.

“What is this place?” she asked. Although her stomach rolled with discomfort, she tried her best to eat.

“An underground fortress. The portal’s location can change at the caster’s will. King Liam knows about the fortress. He knows our people are here. But he doesn’t know where it is or how to find it. The people here are both loyal to Prince Calle and those who need refuge from Liam’s cruelty.”

“Where are your soldiers? I don’t know how many men King Liam has, but I doubt what I’ve seen is enough to take the city.”

“No, it’s not.” Her eyebrows furrowed. “There are more people loyal to Calle in Heulwen, but few will rise up if they think there is no chance we can succeed. Over the years, we have thwarted Liam’s efforts. Raided caravans. Made threats. Stole food and money. Rescued people from the scaffold. It was all we could do until now. Before we knew Calle still lived. Now we can do so much more.”

She picked at her food. “What will Calle do? Kill his brother? I’m not sure he has it in him. He’s too...kind-hearted.”

“Yes,” she laughed. “He has always been that way. So very unlike his brother.” Then she sobered. “But I’ve seen him try before. He had more at stake then. And he lost it all. Under similar circumstances, I’m sure he’d find the right motivation to do what’s necessary for the sake of his people.”

“Nyana?” The name on her tongue caused several needles of jealousy to prick her feathers. “Unless you know someone who deals in necromancy, I don’t think it’s a viable option.”

Her mother shook her head and leveled her with a stare, tipping her head curiously. “Calle will do anything for someone he loves. Under any other circumstance, he is soft, and I fear he is too soft to overthrow Liam.”

A spark of anger lit the kindling in her heart. “You would use him as your pawn?”

“No.” Avonia looked upset at the suggestion, and Skaja remembered Calle mentioning they had a mother-son-like relationship. “But we need him to step up. We have no one else.” 

The silver sheets of Calle’s memories came to mind. His smile. His laughter. His carefree demeanor. “I assure you he is much changed since the Pits. But I agree he is very soft. He’ll do what it takes to save others and to save himself, but he lacks initiative.”

The feathers in her wings ruffled in surprise when she realized she was having an easy, comfortable conversation with her mother. She excelled in battle tactics—a trait she now realized had come from the person who had birthed her.

“Calle released you from the oath?” Avonia asked suddenly.

Skaja frowned. So, she had been listening to their conversation. “It was after I was gravely injured. I was unconscious.”

“Your wings look much better. How do they feel?” 

Her eyes narrowed at her mother. The sudden topic change was strange. She also felt overwhelmed by the lack of knowledge on how to communicate with her own mother. “They ache a bit. But nothing compared to yesterday. Calle did a great job.” 

Her mother’s mouth twitched. “I heard you threatened to cut off Cian’s hand if he touched you.”

“He’s a man,” she replied matter-of-factly.

“Calle is a man too.” 

“Yes, but he’s...Calle.” 

A long pause gave her a chance to look over the banquet hall. More people entered. Voices competed over other voices in a louder hum than before. She knew who she searched for before she found him. Calle smiled at her from across the room where he conversed with Typheal. Warmth bubbled in her heart, and she returned the smile with one of her own.

“I don’t mean to pry,” her mother said slowly, “but what is your relationship with the prince? I’m not sure I can figure it out.” 

She closed off immediately, not wanting to talk to a near stranger about something so personal. She wasn’t sure she entirely understood it herself.

Avonia frowned. “We searched for you. For years.” 

“I know. Calle told me everything. You don’t need to explain.” 

“But I do. I am so happy you have been found.” She placed her hand on Skaja’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “I want to have a relationship with you. I want to be your mother.” 

Skaja shrugged off her hand. “All my life, I was told my parents had abandoned me. I know now it’s not true. But it still feels true. You can’t erase that.” 

“No...but perhaps we can try to move forward.”

Thankfully, Calle approached and cut their conversation short. A smile grew wide across his face as he slung an arm around Skaja’s shoulders. An immediate blanket of comfort wrapped around her at his touch. He was the only familiar thing in this sea of foreign chaos.

“We’re needed in the council chamber. Immediately, it seems.” He chuckled and led her out the door and down the hallway. She glanced over her shoulder to find Avonia, Typheal, and several others following them like guards might escort their charge.

“We? Don’t you mean you?”

“I want you there, if you are willing.”

“Why?” She cast him a suspicious glance. “Are you chaperoning me because you don’t trust me not to hurt anyone?” 

“No.” His smile melted into a more serious expression. His fingers ever so lightly stroked the base of her wings in an intimate way, and a pleasant shiver worked its way down her spine. But his touch disappeared just as quickly. He leaned closer and murmured in her ear. “You are the single most important person in my life. I want you there, as well as your council.”

Heat flared in her cheeks, and not knowing how to reply, she tried to jab him in the ribs with her elbow.

Of course, he side-stepped her attempt, chuckled, and slipped into a nearby room. With a huff, she followed.

A large, rectangular table sat in the middle of the room, chairs on all sides, and a half-dozen people sat in those chairs. They stood abruptly at Calle’s presence and bowed.

“Your Highness,” one of them murmured as he straightened. His long, lavish red robe spoke of wealth and position. His long brown hair tumbled down his back. A tattoo shaped like a diamond sat on his forehead.

A curious glance around the table revealed three of the six men wore the same tattoo. And she noticed they were all men. When Calle eventually took the throne, she would ensure at least half his council contained female members. 

The thought inspired a frown. She still didn’t know where she fit into Calle’s world. So, she joined her mother near the now-closed door, acting as a guard while Calle approached the other six at the table. His gaze followed her path, and he wore his own frown. Had he expected her to sit beside him?

Other than her parents, two guards stood at the door on the opposite side of the room, and Joel and Cian sat in chairs beneath a window. Where had Inari gone? Hopefully not getting herself into trouble.

The red-robed figure, who introduced himself as Harold, began the meeting by presenting the last six years’ worth of events. He skimmed over Liam’s wife and two daughters as if they weren’t an important enough topic to discuss before moving onto their efforts to thwart the king. 

From how it sounded... 

They were expecting this to last many more years before finally wresting the kingdom away from King Liam. She crossed her arms and ruffled her feathers in aggravation. 

“Do you have something to say, Skaja?” Calle asked, and she jumped at the sound of her name. All eyes turned toward her, and suddenly the room became too quiet. Too still.

“I am allowed to speak?”

“Always.”

She started to take a step forward but thought better of it when she realized all the other men would be too close for comfort. “Fine... What I see is a council sitting on their arses, spending hours debating whether they should drink water or wine. Do you know how long it took for us valkyries to plan out the attack on the Pits? A week. You’ve had six years, and from the looks of it, you’re no closer to your original goal than you were from the beginning. I think you are too afraid to do what is necessary because you are deciding what will result in the best outcome. But there is no outcome at all without action.”

“And how do you propose we take the city?” Harold asked, lifting his chin as if to say he was more important than her. What arrogance! Valkyries were all equals, and if Calle wouldn’t be sorely disappointed in her, she might have been tempted to cut up the man’s face a bit. “We lack a large army. Those we have recruited aren’t all trained soldiers. Our prince is still recovering from the effects of slavery. Need I go on?”

“No.” Her upper lip lifted in the faintest scowl. “You have made it quite clear you are willing to wait until Liam dies of old age or has an heir.”

“Yet, you are making no counter proposals yourself.”

“Give me the rest of the day to count stock and heads, and I’ll give you one on the morrow.”

Harold lifted a goblet of water to his lips and eyed her. “I’ll hold you to it.”  

As if to diffuse the tension in the room, another council member rose from his chair and held out his arms in a show of peace. “Your Highness, we all spoke at length about your return, and we have come to a unanimous decision. We think it’s best you take a wife before we make a move on the kingdom.”

Calle choked on his water, and as if involuntary, his gaze darted in her direction. Their eyes locked, and her heart tripped over itself in both worry and fear. He couldn’t get married. He wasn’t...wasn’t ready!

“Excuse me?” he finally gasped. “When was this decided?”

“A couple months ago. You are five years past the day you should have chosen a bride. But don’t you worry, Your Highness. We have gathered all the eligible maidens willing to support you at your side.”

As the man spread his arms again, the doors on the opposite side of the room opened, and nearly two dozen women entered wearing fancy dresses and crowns of flowers in their hair. They whispered excitedly amongst themselves, but as Skaja watched them, dread grew like an infectious disease in her stomach. They were all beautiful and elegant and poised. Their skin was unblemished, without tattoos or scars that she could see. And their faces radiated goodness and warmth.

Skaja self-consciously tucked her wings closer to her body and hid her hands beneath her feathers. Although no visible blood marred her skin, her hands had taken more lives than she could count. They were dirty and scarred and lacking light and goodness.

“He is to marry?” she finally managed to whisper to her mother, who eyed her curiously. More specifically, she eyed the way Skaja’s wings spoke without her uttering a word. 

Avonia nodded and replied quietly, “It was an idea proposed in the council a couple months ago after we found out he still lived. Knowing his romantic temperament, we thought it would give him more of a reason to fight. He mustn’t know our reasoning behind it.”

“But...won’t marriage distract him from the bigger picture?” 

“We think it might focus him more. Does that sound so outrageous?” Yet, her mother said it without looking her in the eye as if she had something to hide. More reason must exist for it than that. 

“No. It...makes sense.” Unfortunately. Her wings drooped in their misery. “However, it’s a bad time, no? Why not wait? There is not a large selection of women here.”

“It may not be a large selection, especially for a prince, but it is a good selection.”

Skaja’s stomach rolled again, fearing Calle would give into the pressure of the court and choose one of the twittering ladies. But then she turned her gaze warily to her mother. “What other secrets are you hiding from him?” 

Avonia’s jaw clenched, and she looked away. “Nothing.” 

She peered at her mother suspiciously. There was something she was keeping from the prince. But what?

Calle clapped his hands suddenly and the room quieted. He gave an apologetic smile and gestured to the line of suitors. “You are all very lovely young women.” And then he turned back to the council member. “But there is someone else I’d rather marry.” Skaja’s feathers ruffled with envy, not unlike the envious whispers and groans escaping the suitors. But then he grinned and glanced her way. “Unfortunately, she told me she would sooner rip my head off like a Praying Mantis does to her mate.”

A rumble of surprise and laughter shook the room, but Skaja only managed a blank stare as a current of shock rippled through her body. She stared at him, eyes wide. Her wings hunched to give away her vulnerability.

Me? You would choose me over all these better candidates?

But...but...but... 

Heat climbed her body from her toes, up her legs, her torso, her neck, but before it settled in her cheeks, she threw the door open and slipped into the hallway.

Too fast.

Everything moved too fast. Rescuing a man from death. Finding out her whole life was a lie. Kissing a man. Sleeping in the same bed as a man. Meeting her parents. A man wanting to marry her.

The air suffocated her lungs. They grew heavy as if turning to brick. Drawing each breath became difficult. Black drapes fluttered at the edges of her vision. 

Her feet led her blindly forward, and she barely spared a glance for anyone, not even the men she passed in the hallways. When she stumbled across a secluded bench tucked in a corner, she slumped onto it, her mind spinning. The faux windows cast a glow on her wings, catching the light just right so a shimmer reflected on the wall. The luster contradicted the swirling gray confusion overwhelming her soul.

Only a few minutes later, Calle turned the corner. He stopped when he noticed her on the bench, and his worried expression melted into relief. He approached and sat beside her. She didn’t stop him.

“Sorry,” he murmured, giving her a guilty grimace. “It was supposed to be a joke. Unfortunately, I have a higher opinion of my wit than you do.”

“Saying you wanted to marry me was a joke?” 

“No, that’s very real.” 

She recalled the golden rose she’d unintentionally smashed to the ground. “I thought you only wanted to court me.”

“True, I do want to do that too. But I want more with you.” He reached out to touch her but hesitated as if giving her the opportunity to pull away. She didn’t. His hand cradled her face, and she couldn’t help but lean into the warmth his palm offered. His amber eyes gazed at her with kindness and admiration. “I love you, Skaja.”

Her heart rolled in a pile of emotions ranging from excitement to nervousness to uncertainty. “Even if I threatened to rip your head off?” she joked, though her cracking voice betrayed the tears rising to the surface. 

“Even then.” He kissed her cheek. Heat climbed into her face, but perhaps it had never left. He kissed the corner of her mouth. A sigh of contentment escaped. And then his lips claimed hers. Gentle. Sweet. When he pulled away, he left her breathless and longing for more.

Her voice trembled. “Am I supposed to say it back?” 

“Only if you feel it.”

“I don’t know what I feel.”

“That’s fine.” The back of his fingers trailed across her cheek, then her jaw as his gaze flitted over her face. “I wanted you to know I would never marry any of those women. It’s a tradition for those in Heulwen to choose their own brides, and the council gave me such an opportunity, but even I can recognize when something feels unnatural and forced.”

Avonia’s words rushed to her mind. He mustn’t know our reasoning behind it. Betraying Calle’s trust was much worse than betraying her mother’s.

“There’s something you should know.” She captured his hand to force his gaze on her. “My mother doesn’t want you to be aware of why they want you to marry. They think it would center your focus to battle your brother if you had something you needed to protect. While her words might be true, I can’t help but feel like she’s hiding something else.” She squeezed his fingers. “She may be my mother but...be careful, Calle.”

He frowned. It certainly didn’t suit him. “I have reason enough to fight. I already said I would lead.”

“Then lead.” She gripped his arms and gazed earnestly into his eyes. “Don’t wait for them to tell you what to do. Don’t be a puppet who bows to their whims. You are a prince! And someday, you will be a king. A good king. I cannot help but notice you doubt yourself. Don’t. March in there. Command the room. Make plans. Execute the plans.”

“But...” He bit his lip. “I don’t know enough about the situation.”

“Then learn. We’ll spend today interviewing people, counting stock and heads, and I will learn the layout of the castle. We can do this, Calle. You can do this.”

“I’m not sure I can. Everyone expects me to...kill my brother. When the time comes, what if I can’t?”

Softly, she pointed her finger to his chest, right over his heart. “You do what is best for you and your kingdom. Don’t let anyone else tell you what that is. This recent meeting is a prime example of their flowery words and secrets and control. They think they control you. Show them they don’t.” She absently stroked his chest and lowered her voice. “Take initiative. Make plans. Execute the plans. Things don’t happen when people sit around arguing.” 

His fingers grazed her hips. “You are very good at this. A natural leader. You have a lot of talents.” The melancholy in his voice betrayed him. He must think he possessed no talents at all.

She tipped his chin up so they once again maintained eye contact. “You may not be the best with the sword or with leadership, but you are charismatic. People are drawn to you. You can charm an entire room with a few words.”

He smiled and trapped her hand in both of his. “Then let’s try to put one of my only talents to good use, and then hope I can learn the rest.”

A laugh escaped her, and she couldn’t help but pinch his side teasingly, which earned her an even larger smile from him. “You will. Starting now.”