Page 6 of A Phoenix Reborn at Christmas

Letting out a breath, Percival dropped his hand. After a second, the raven sat up. She blinked her pitch-black eyes at Percival.

And Percival knew without a doubt that the raven was a she. The raven ruffled her feathers. Several were still missing. Blood still stained them. But her wounds had healed. In time, the feathers would probably grow back.

The raven hopped towards Percival, gazing up at him. She tilted her head from side to side, examining Percival. Then she lowered her head as if bowing.

Percival found himself bowing in return.

The raven stretched her long black wings and flapped, flying off.

Percival watched, staring as the raven flew over the city, growing smaller and smaller until she disappeared amongst the stone chimneys. He closed the window.

Then with a groan, he sagged and sat on the floor. He closed his eyes, body sinking into the hardwood. Healing the raven had taken his strength.

Why did I help the raven?

He shouldn’t have done it. He’d gained nothing from it. In fact, it had cost him his energy.

Now he’d need to sleep. He’d be fine, of course. But he’d be lethargic and exhausted from using his powers for the next day or two. Thankfully, the raven’s injuries hadn’t been too hard to heal.

He’d not healed many in this current life. And if his uncle saw him do something like that, he’d have harsh words for him: “Why on earth would you waste your energy on a fucking useless bird?”

Percival hadn’t liked seeing the eyesore of a creature outside his window. That was why he’d done it. It had been revolting. Disgusting. He hadn’t healed it out of a sense of charity. Or sympathy. Or because he felt sorry for the creature.

Percival was not an altruistic or kind being. He was tough. He was who his uncle had raised him to be. He’d healed the raven because he hadn’t wanted to look at that mess of feathers and blood. He’d not wanted a corpse on his windowsill.

It was as simple as that.

After all, what was the point of helping someone who couldn’t help you back? If you had a bleeding heart, you’d just constantly be taken advantage of.

He opened his eyes. He turned his head towards the window.

Still, Percival had to admit, even though it had been a foolish waste of his energy, it had been nice to see the raven fly away, healthy once again.

Chapter

Three

Percival lifted his chin as he pushed the door to the bakery open. The bell above tinkled. Despite a rather unpleasant experience in the bakery the day before, he could not deny the deliciousness of the pie. In fact, he’d dreamed of it.

Thus he’d decide to brave being poorly treated by a coarse and insolent baker once again if it meant he could eat another of those divine mushroom and leek pies. His mouth salivated at the thought.

No one stood behind the counter today. But he could see the bakers at work in the back, chatting and laughing. Percival always took his lunch early, so no doubt he was here before the lunch rush.

The bakery had been decorated with baubles, garlands, paper stars, and of course a Christmas tree. It looked like Christmas had thrown up in here. The customers, a couple of dryads and a few sprites, sat at the tables, eating, drinking, and smiling. Clearly, they didn’t mind the garish and over-the-top display.

Percival’s lip curled. This bakery really had no class. But even if the decorations had been more tasteful, Percival would have still disliked it. He’d never been one to enjoy Christmas.

Or…not in this life anyway. In previous lives… But he wasn’t that phoenix anymore. He’d stopped being a sensitive, fragile phoenix after his last death.

In this life he’d learnt many lessons. They’d been taught harshly. But he was stronger and smarter because of them. And less foolish and trusting than he’d been in his previous lives.

Having heard the bell, the baker who’d served him yesterday came out from the back area. He smiled. But as soon as he saw Percival, the smile dimmed.

Percival could almost see the man holding in a sigh. Then he fixed a smile, clearly fake, on his face. That didn’t bother Percival. This man was beneath him. The baker’s approval had no bearing on him whatsoever.

Percival strode towards the counter. He had to admit, though, despite his manners, the baker was attractive. Very attractive, in fact. His smile—his real smile, at least—was simply breathtaking. He had thick dark hair and long lashes. His full lips looked like they were made for sucking cock.

When Percival had walked in the day before, he’d been taken aback by the young baker’s looks. And despite his rather shabby clothes, Percival had even considered propositioning the man. Then the man had kept him waiting. It had continued to go downhill from there.