Lyana
Lyana felt the raven’s scream all the way to her core, as though a fist had taken hold of her insides and yanked, ripping everything out of place.
She’d never heard such anguish, such pain.
She’d never seen such bravery.
Before her mind could catch up with her instincts, she spread her wings and jumped, diving through the mouth of the cave, leaving Cassi no chance to stop her.
“What are you doing?” her friend shouted, panic in her voice.
Lyana didn’t know how to answer. She didn’t know what she was doing—she just knew she had to do something, anything. After hiding in the shadows, hearing those cries, catching only glimpses of the battle raging outside, she couldn’t sit still any longer. She soared through the channel, up and over the edge of the sky bridge, sneaking up behind the dragon before the beast even noticed she was there. It stood over the fallen raven with its neck pulled back, bubbling with unreleased fire, and its wings spread into a span probably five times her own.
Lyana gasped, trapping the sound within her lips as she stared in awe of the creature. Sure, she’d learned of them. She'd read the reports with her brother, sat in meetings with her father. She’d heard the sightings had become more frequent, heard that the fire god’s strength appeared to be growing. Still, reading something and seeing it with her own eyes were two very different things.
Was this what waited beneath the Sea of Mist?
Was this what the world below had become?
Her hands trembled, not with fear but with indecision, as she gripped the daggers always clipped to her belt and pulled the two sharpest ones free. There was a beauty in the dragon’s ferocity she couldn’t deny—something glittering beneath all the terror.
Something that gave her pause.
No dragon had ever flown so high as to reach her homeland. The other isles were all arranged at different heights, some closer and some farther from the Sea of Mist, but her home was at the top—the apex of their floating world because the patron god of the House of Peace, Aethios, was the keystone holding everything in place. The god of the sun and the sky. The god who had lifted their lands into the air. The god who kept them aloft.
Aethios, she thought, blinking her wonder away. Aethios is the god I worship. Not Vesevios. Not the god of fire. Not this creature’s keeper.
As though hearing her thoughts, the raven crumpled against the stone moaned—a soft, broken sound. Yet it was loud enough to pull her from her thoughts and jolt her into action.
There were only two options she could see for attack—the wings or the eyes. The raven had gone for the stomach, her first choice, but she’d seen his sword barely make a dent, which meant her daggers would be useless. And since she wanted to remain out of sight for as long as possible, Lyana decided to go for the wings first.
The dragon hitched its head, about to unleash its wrath.
Fully aware of how idiotic her actions were, and fully aware of the promise she’d made her brother, Lyana stretched her arm back and zeroed in on her target—the joint where the wing met the body. The spot was a vulnerable one for any flying creature, including her, and she’d seen how the dragon had skidded across the cliff face, scuffing its wings and scales. While there was no trace of blood, she was sure there had been damage done—damage she would use to her advantage.
Lyana released one of her daggers.
The blade landed true, as she’d been confident it would.
The beast roared in pain, head rearing as it shot a useless flame into the sky. Its neck whipped around, body following, and its wings flapped, one not quite as well as the other.
Maybe the eyes would have been better after all, Lyana thought with a gulp as a single ruby iris focused in on her. Her fingers shifted on the second dagger, moving into position as she drew back her arm again. Before she released it, an arrow landed with a thunk in the middle of that furious pupil.
The dragon shook its head as though confused at what had happened. Lyana, on the other hand, wasn’t surprised as Cassi soared into view, as lethal as she was silent, and shot a second arrow at the dragon’s other eye. The beast bellowed as the arrow missed its mark and ricocheted off its impenetrable scales. But while its mouth was open, Lyana threw her poised dagger toward its open jaw. The blade disappeared in the cloud of flames erupting deep inside the creature’s throat. It must have landed true, since the dragon took off into the sky, diving over the edge of the bridge and plummeting out of view before they had the chance to strike again.
Lyana’s lungs emptied with one strong whoosh as her friend landed on the sky bridge with an ominous thud.
Cassi grabbed her by the forearm, spinning her around. “Do you have a death wish? What were you thinking?”
“I don’t know,” Lyana confessed, head itching to turn and locate the raven. “I just had to do something. I had to help.”
“Help what? He’s already in his god’s arms, like we probably should be.”
“You don’t know that. Maybe there’s something we could do. Something I could do.”
Cassi’s silvery eyes darkened to hard iron, and her grip on Lyana’s arm tightened. “You can’t be serious.”
Lyana’s lip twitched with humor. “Now where have I heard that before?”
“He’s not worth the risk.”
Lyana glanced over her shoulder, finding the deathly still body, noting how the pool of blood around the raven's torso expanded. “My brother said the same thing about you once.”
Cassi sighed, loosening her fingers. A memory flickered in the corners of her eyes, one Lyana tried hard not to think about too often. She and Luka practicing swordplay in her room. The surprise of the door opening. The dagger slipping accidentally from her fingers. The blade sinking into Cassi’s gut. The pleading look in her friend’s eyes, as if she knew Lyana had the power to save her. The fear on her brother’s face as she exposed her deepest secret to an owl who was still in many ways an outsider—but who, after that day, became a sister.
Glancing away, Cassi broke the moment. “It’s not the same.”
“Isn’t it?” Lyana urged.
“We were already friends when you saved my life, and you were all I had in the world. He’s nothing. A stranger. And we have to go before his companion gets back.”
“No.”
Lyana wrenched her arm free and spun, daring her friend to stop her as she flew to the fallen raven and dropped to her knees beside him. His face was charred beyond recognition, pale skin turned to raw and melted flesh. But that wasn’t the biggest concern. A person could live with burns. Maybe not ones so severe, but it was possible. The gaping wound in his abdomen, however, was fatal—a fact confirmed by the blood spilling onto the crystal rocks beneath them.
Using another of her daggers to cut through his leathers, Lyana was careful not to slice his skin as she peeled back the soiled garments. She put her hands on his naked chest, took a deep breath, and reached for her magic. The space around her palms began to glow with a golden hue that reminded her of the sun. She pushed the light under the raven’s skin, following it with her mind as she let her eyes fall closed so her thoughts could focus on the broken body sprawled next to her.
The wounds slowly began to heal.
Inch by inch.
Tear by tear.
Lyana worked methodically, focusing on the area that required her immediate attention, using her power to seal the gash in the raven's belly. But there was so much damage. The bones in his wings were crushed. Every inch of his exposed flesh had been burned, and most of his feathers, too. Some of his clothes had melded with his skin, impossible to remove.
Focus on the puncture wound, she reminded herself.
Focus on the bleeding.
Just focus.
The going was slow and required her full concentration. Her magic was awkward, an unexercised limb that fumbled and struggled, out of practice through no fault of her own. The people of all seven houses shared a common belief
—that magic was a symbol of the evil which once enslaved them, and a power meant only for their gods. A person in possession of it, whether she be a princess or a pauper, would be sacrificed in order to save the faith.
Every house had a different method of execution. The House of Prey was particularly brutal, she’d heard. They stripped magic-users of their wings and pushed them over the edge, sending them into Vesevios’s arms. Most other houses used public beheadings. Her own, to maintain the image of peace they’d crafted so well, brought people discovered to have magic into the sacred nest, where only the king, the priests, and Aethios himself would witness the slaying.
Sitting on the sky bridge, saving a man from the edge of death, Lyana had no idea how anyone could ever think her magic a blight on their devotion to the gods. It was a gift from Aethios. Why else would it sparkle like the sun’s rays on a clear day? But that didn’t change the fact that if an outsider saw what she was doing, she’d be put to death. Even if that outsider happened to be the person whose life she’d saved.
“Ahh,” a deep voice groaned.
Lyana snatched her hands away as her eyes flew open.
“Who?” The man spoke again. This time he blinked, cerulean irises flashing to life once, then twice, as his vision adjusted, finding her face—seeing it. Only when their eyes met did she realize he wasn’t an old man. His gaze still held the vitality of youth, the stupidity of it. Hers must have reflected the same.
The unmistakable creaking of a bow pulled taut filtered into her ear. Lyana turned to Cassi, holding up her hand, ordering her to stop.
“He’s seen your face,” her friend murmured darkly.
“I didn’t save him just to kill him.”
Cassi widened her imploring eyes, the arrow steady in her hands, ready to strike. “He’s seen your face.”
“And in his delirium, he’s noticed nothing else.”
“Then we should go, now, before he does.”
Lyana turned back to the raven, scanning the burns all over his body, thoughts returning to the shattered bones in his wings. He’d never heal on his own. He’d never fly again. He’d be as good as dead if they left now, or worse even—alive without access to the sky.
“What if we take him somewhere? What if we hide him?”
“And then what?” Cassi asked with relentless logic, when all Lyana wanted was to act on instinct and heart.
She knew this was risky, insane, dangerous. But with her knees soaked in his blood and her ears picking up on his every strained heartbeat, she couldn’t find the will to do the smart thing—to leave. Deep in her chest, something bubbled and prickled, a warm sort of fizz. The thrill of adventure. The excitement of doing something for herself in these last few days before she was mated, shipped to some foreign land, and forced into the role she was born to play.
“We’ll take him to the cave,” Lyana said in a moment of pure clarity. “We’ll come back tonight when it’s dark and check in on him. With his wings so broken, he won’t be able to escape unless I heal him. And before I do, we’ll make him swear an oath of silence before the gods. I’ll wear some sort of disguise, plain clothes, so he won’t realize who I am. And we’ll release him in a few days, after the courtship trials are over, so he’ll never learn the truth. He’ll live, and my secret will be safe.”
“You really want to risk so much?" Cassi pressed. "For him?”
“It’s not for him.” Lyana turned, finding her friend’s gaze. “It’s for me.”
Cassi blinked. By the time her eyelids slid open, all the iron ore was gone. Her irises were the soft silver of the moonlight, lit with the understanding of Lyana's true wish—one last chance to be herself before she belonged to someone else.
“I don’t like it,” Cassi said, determined to state her opinion one final time. Then her wings drooped as her shoulders caved in. “But I’ll do it.”
Lyana fought the knot in her throat. She hastily looked back toward the raven, watching as he slipped in and out of consciousness. “I’ll grab his shoulders. You grab his feet. Let’s go before anyone sees.”
He struggled when they lifted him, eyes blinking fast, limbs twitching, unintelligible protests pouring from his lips. After a few seconds, his body went still, overwhelmed by the pain. Carefully, they carried him beneath the sky bridge, fighting the whipping winds as they made their way to the cave they’d occupied not too long before. This time, they didn’t stay near the surface. They ventured back into the farthest reaches of the cavern, where the space was pitch black and the air slightly warmer. They placed him face down on the ground, fanning his onyx wings to cover him as he blended into the dark.
“We have to leave before the ravens return,” Cassi urged, pulling Lyana away from the body. “We saw the one leave. He was probably going to get the others, to warn them about the dragon.”
“I know, I know,” Lyana answered, keeping her head turned toward the man, unable to see anything but the subtle sheen of his pale skin in the shadows of the cave. “But shouldn’t we light a fire, or maybe one of us should stay to explain when he wakes up?”
“No,” Cassi insisted. “News of the dragon will spread. We have to get back before your parents realize we’re gone, especially if you want a chance to sneak out again tonight. If they’re the least bit suspicious we have something planned, they’ll double, no, triple your guards. He’ll be fine for a few hours. We can bring more supplies when we return.”
Lyana sighed. Of course, Cassi was right. She was always right. But that didn’t mean Lyana had to like it.
“I’ll give you a few minutes,” Cassi continued, attention drifting to the bright light at the end of the narrow tunnel. “I’ll wait at the entrance and keep watch while you finish up.”
Lyana grabbed her friend’s hand before she could leave, squeezing it once. “Thank you.”
Cassi shrugged and released a heavy sigh, one Lyana sensed was filled with frustration, fear, and most of all, love. “What are friends for, right?”
She walked away, leaving Lyana alone with the raven. Brushing her fingers over his burned cheek, she winced at the slick blood and swollen boils marring his skin.
Later, Lyana thought.
She’d fix it later. For now, she sent her magic deeper, to his internal organs, fixing enough to ensure he’d still be alive by the time she came back. She removed the furs wrapped tightly around her neck and laid them across the exposed part of his back, right between his broken wings.
Later. She sighed, pausing there, taking a deep breath as the cool air provoked a shiver down her spine. Later.
Then she stood, leaving the raven in the dark as she turned to join Cassi in their hasty journey home.
6
Xander
The world was eerily silent.
That was all Xander could focus on as he flew toward the sky bridge with his guards following him into battle. The air was too still. The wind was too hushed.
Rafe is fine.
Rafe is alive.
Xander repeated the phrases over and over in his mind. Throughout his young yet trying life, he’d learned one very important thing—positivity was a power all its own. He wouldn’t panic. He wouldn’t spiral out of control. He would remain determined, vigilant, and optimistic as he raced onward, wings beating as fast as they could, carrying him toward his brother.
A brother who was fine.
Who was alive.
Who was waiting.
That hope died when the sky bridge slipped into view and a pool of brilliant red filled his vision.
“Rafe!” he cried, landing at a sprint. “Rafe!”
But there was no response, just the echo of his own voice reverberating down the open channel and up into the vast sky—a sky that was clear of fire and smoke, filled only with endless blue.
He’s alive.
He’s alive.
Xander refused to believe otherwise—even as he stared at the blood, watching the puddle spread. It reached the edge of the sky bridge and star
ted dripping over the side, drop after drop after drop falling into the unknown world below.
Then he noticed something else—a footprint.
“Hold,” he shouted over his shoulder, raising his arm. Xander didn’t turn to see whether the guards had stopped, because they were loyal to their crown prince, and he knew without a doubt they would obey. With his eyes glued to the red footprint, he stepped closer. Holding his boot above the spot, he sucked in a breath as hope formed like a bright star in his chest.
The print was small—smaller than his—which meant it was smaller than Rafe’s.
“Someone was here,” he whispered to himself, then shifted position again, using his wings to hover above the blood, careful not to disturb it.
“My prince,” a voice called. Xander spun toward the sound, recognizing his captain of the guards, the woman he liked to consider his top advisor instead of the stuffy nobles his mother kept around her. Helen was a small raven, but her skills with a throwing dagger were astonishing, and her mind for politics was even sharper than the blades she wielded so well. “Your brother’s weapons.”
She gestured toward the two blades tossed haphazardly across the barren, frozen ground. Xander flew toward them and knelt to pick one up with his left hand. The sword was heavy, the hilt wrapped with black leather. He’d seen it enough times to know it was his brother’s, and that the other was its twin. Yet the blade felt cumbersome in his hand. Xander had abandoned sword play a long time ago, preferring books and debate to the practice fields. But today was one of the times he wished he could move like his brother, with his strength and abilities. Had that been the case, he would have stayed. He would have fought. He would know what had happened.
Then you’d be dead too, Rafe’s voice said, popping into his thoughts.
Xander dropped the sword and shook the comment away.
Because Rafe was alive.
He had to be.
And it was a good thing his brother wasn’t the crown prince. Rafe would have leaped over the edge searching for vengeance, would have sped across the land after a body, would have screamed his frustration for all the gods to hear. He would have been angry and rash. He would have missed all the signs.
The Raven and the Dove Page 4