Free Salome at Sunrise by Inez Kelley Page A

fading from memory. One thought speared through her essence with a slicing bite. She could not leave him. He needed her, though he fought it, and she needed him. Bryton held more in his grasp than a sword. He held her destiny. But what was that destiny?
    So many questions and too few answers had finally numbed her and she turned back, streaming toward his slumbering camp. Dawn was still golden in the sky, the day’s blue not yet realized, when her wind took shape and form. Her falcon had lit on a thickly leafed limb and peered through foliage.
    Bryton stood shirtless, his wet hair tied back severely, and scrubbed a thick layer of white along his face. Something between two tree branches caught and reflected the rising sun. He peered into the sparkling surface and scraped a metal blade down his cheek. The white peeled away and took the whiskers with it. Her feathers quivered. He was shaving…and arguing with his horse.
    “I didn’t. I did not kiss her, no.” The horse chewed on some grasses, oblivious to his master’s discussion.
    “Okay, maybe I thought about it…for a second…or four.” More white and whiskers dropped to the bowl of water. He swished the blade and brought it back to his throat. Before he stroked, he whipped the blade to point at the animal. “But I didn’t. I just…Damn, are all the magic spirits in the world beautiful women? Why couldn’t Myla send me a huge ugly man with warts and bad breath? Hell, I’d take a crone, an old hag with a cackle and crooked nose. No, she sends me a…”
    A frustrated sound ripped from his mouth and he spun back to his bowl. More of the white fell away. Salome clamped her beak tight. The long line of his back shifted with his every move. Her gaze traced down his spine, to the small of his back. Her tiny heart fluttered in her feathered breast. Did his skin feel as smooth as it looked?
    “I mean, I could, right? It’s just lust, right? And the whole ‘not real’ thing didn’t bother Taric.”
    Jester raised his head, shaking his ears, and snorted.
    Bryton nodded. “And it’s not like I’m a monk. Even after…I’ve had women since then…four…no, five…or was it four?” Long fingers extended as he counted. “Four…no, the tavern maid in Follyswit…or did I pass out first? Shit, I can’t remember. Those moons are a drunken blur.”
    Jester twitched his ears. More white whisked away and Bryton dipped the blade in the bowl before shaking the water off with a fast snap. “No, I need to focus on finding Karok and the rest of his rabid dogs. I don’t have time to fool around with a magic spell.”
    Tipping his chin up, he drew the shaver down his throat until there was no more white. “She chatters. It’s so damn annoying…And she’s an innocent. I hate virgins, I really do.”
    He worked in short, fast movements above his upper lip. “The point is, I did not kiss her. Those women didn’t count and neither does Salome. Kat counted.”
    He dried the razor, wrapped it with the small reflective square in a leather pouch and tucked that into his saddlebag. He stared at the horse. “She’s short and her breasts are too small.”
    Salome dropped her beak and puffed her chest. Too small for what?
    “And her eyes are gray. Not blue, not brown, gray…like night before the stars appear.”
    Water struck the leaves as he pitched the bowl contents into the bush. A pale cloth dragged across his face and he sighed. So much pain bled on that noise that Salome fought a tear that couldn’t form in her feathered body. “She does smell like honey.”
    He tossed the cloth over his shoulder, rubbed the horse’s ears. “Why can’t I get the taste of her off my lips?”
    The long nose nuzzled into his shoulder and Bryton firmed his mouth. He raised the horse’s head until he stared into the solemn eyes. “But I did not kiss her.”

Chapter Four
    The morning sun warmed the sky. Bryton pulled a tunic from his pack, stepping away from the horse. The black