Lyana looked away from the ring.
And stared directly into the raven’s open cerulean eyes.
10
Rafe
He remembered her face as though it had come from a dream—those brilliant green eyes that seemed to sparkle like distant stars as they looked down at him in concern. In the memory, her face had been silhouetted by the sun, but he realized now that it was just her natural color, dark and rich, with golden highlights enhanced by the warm fire.
Who was she?
Where had she come from?
The longer they looked at each other, the more space the questions seemed to fill, spreading through his thoughts until he forgot who he was, where he was, aware of nothing but this mysterious beauty before him. His own eyes began to sting, yet he couldn’t blink. He didn’t want to break this moment, didn’t want to end whatever was happening—the undercurrent throbbing in the air between them.
She smiled. Soft, nervous laughter spilled from her lips. Then she glanced away, her bashful gaze dropping to the ground as her shoulders bent forward and her wings curved around her arms as though she were trying to hide.
Rafe moved, attempting to lift his chest from the floor and turn.
Just like that, everything came rushing back.
He hissed with pain as his battered wings cried out, as his healing body shouted at him to lie still, as his heart thundered in his chest, all the worry and fear and panic returning.
“The dragon.” He forced the words up his dry throat and through his shivering lips. “What happened to the dragon? What happened to my—” He stopped, catching himself in time. “To my people?”
What he really wanted to say was, to my brother.
Xander. Xander.
Was he all right? Had he gotten away? Was he safe?
Rafe’s blood pounded through his veins, hot and painful. A groan left him as he pushed against the stones, trying to heave his body to a seated position—he had to get up, he had to go. There was no time to waste. Xander needed him. The ravens needed him. No amount of pain would stop him.
“Stay down,” the girl instructed. Her warm palm pressed his shoulder back. “Be still before you make everything worse. The dragon is gone. There was no one there but you. And that happened hours ago.”
“It’s gone?” he asked, breath coming in short spurts as his tired body conquered his will. Rafe’s muscles gave out and he collapsed on the floor, still trembling with cold. “How? When?”
A wider smile danced across the girl’s face as she shrugged. “I scared it off.”
Despite the injuries, the pain, and the dire situation, Rafe snorted, eying her skinny arms and small frame. “You?”
She drew herself up indignantly, arching a brow. “Yes, me. And you’re lucky I was there, because a minute longer and you would have been the fire god’s next victim.”
A shudder coursed through him, the first provoked not by the cool air prickling his skin, but from the icy dread piercing his heart. Rafe remembered. The fire. The claw digging into his gut. His body slamming into the ground. The crunching of his bones echoed through his memory, only drowned by the sound of his screams as they ripped their way from his gut out into the world.
But then it had all stopped.
The pain had been there, but not the beast. He had seen her face, then heard her mutter words he couldn’t make out over the ringing in his ears. After that, there had been nothing, blank space, until awakening now in a place saturated by shadow.
“Would you like some water?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts.
“Please.”
Moving slowly this time, he pushed up again, easing his chest from the ground, wincing as his broken wings scraped against rock, every movement a new source of torment. Hands gripped his shoulders, helping him. A trickle of heat tingled down his arms and across his chest, flaring hot at the spot where his wings met his back and dulling some of the ache.
Rafe froze.
The girl swallowed audibly.
Glancing over his shoulder, he found her eyes through the soft golden glow of undeniable magic. They were wary of him, yet defiant. Cautious, yet unafraid. Bold in a way that was slightly unnerving.
“You…” He trailed off, blinking and shaking his head, trying to remember. His chin dipped as he looked at his abdomen, at the deep maroon stain on his leathers, the gaping puncture wound through the melted material, and the exposed sliver of intact flesh. “You… On the bridge…” He’d thought he was going to die. The wound was massive, undoubtedly fatal even with his magic. He’d lost a lot of blood. Vital organs had been slashed. Yet, here he was. Rafe stared into those dazzling eyes again. “You healed me.”
The girl surveyed his frame, his cheeks, his arms, the bits of skin peeping through the scraps of fabric that clung to him—bits that he suddenly realized glimmered with the proof of his own power. Xander had never been able to see the glow of magic beneath his skin, but apparently, this mysterious stranger could.
“Looks to me like you healed yourself," she remarked.
He didn’t deny it.
Then again, she didn’t either.
The girl looked away and reached into a pack Rafe had just noticed, pulling out a water jug. She held it aloft like a peace offering, like a truce.
He accepted, taking it with a nod.
No one except Xander knew about his magic. In fact, Xander had been the one to point it out. After Rafe had been found underneath the charred bodies of his parents, Xander had ordered the castle guards to carry him up to his rooms. The left side of Rafe’s body, the part his mother’s thin frame had been unable to protect, had been badly burned. He remembered very little of what had happened, hardly anything except the pain. Xander had ordered the royal doctor to use every drop of salve from the House of Paradise on his wounds. They had wrapped his body in bandages, praying to Taetanos he would last the night. When they had returned the next day to repeat the process, his skin was nearly healed. The ravens had never looked at him the same way after that. They had said he belonged to the fire god. They had chanted for his death.
To the public, Xander had proclaimed Rafe’s recovery a miracle wrought by Taetanos himself. In private, he had called it something else—magic.
Rafe hadn’t believed him at first. After all, magic was a death sentence in their world. But they’d tested it out, as reckless young boys tended to do. And they saw it for themselves, how Rafe’s skin sealed itself no matter how many ways they broke and battered his body. There was no other use for his magic—no other purpose. They made a blood pact never to speak of it again, so that no curious ears would ever hear the truth, and they let it go. Rafe let it go.
Until now.
Until her.
How many people knew her secret?
Why had she shared such a dangerous truth with him?
“Food?” she asked, ignoring the question in his eyes. Once again, she turned to one of her packs, this time pulling out a sack of dried fruits and nuts. She took a small handful for herself before giving the rest to him.
They ate in silence for a few minutes.
Rafe studied her movements. Her lips twitched every now and then, as though a grin was constantly threatening to burst forth. Her feet bounced. Her wings shifted. Her eyes darted to every spot within their small halo of light and into the darkness beyond, unable to remain still. Energy left her in waves strong enough to emphasize just how exhausted he felt in comparison. Between his wounds and the toll his magic had taken, he could already feel his lids growing heavy with sleep now that his stomach was full.
But he couldn’t sleep. Not yet.
“Where are we?” he asked softly, still not quite able to find his full voice. “Where did you bring me?”
“Doesn’t matter,” she replied with a shrug, popping the last bits of food into her mouth before turning to the bags once more. This time she revealed flint and a few strips of wood.
“How long are you planning on keeping me here
?” His tone was a little gruffer this time, a little more demanding.
She paid the change no mind, not bothering to answer as she carefully fluffed the kindling and stacked smaller bits of wood. Instead, she focused on striking the flint three times before getting a big enough spark to catch fire. There was a frustratingly superior air about her, one that reminded him of Xander.
“I said, how long are you planning on keeping me here?” he repeated.
Her eyes flicked toward him, then returned to the fire. “I heard you. Give me a moment, unless you wish to continue to freeze.”
His nostrils flared. Yes, she definitely reminds me of Xander. There’s just something, something—
“There,” she said with a satisfied sigh, sitting up and staring at the growing flames. He was mildly impressed, but he wouldn’t tell her that. Not until she gave him some answers.
Rafe opened his mouth to speak again.
As though anticipating the move, she cut in first, “Why are you in such a rush? If I’d just survived a dragon attack, I might be content to sit for a few days. Relax. Give myself time to recover.”
She was baiting him. Her gaze dropped to the middle of his chest.
Rafe winced. He didn’t need to look down to understand what she’d seen. He knew by the amused expression on her face what she was thinking—stranger or not.
That ring.
That stupid, goddamned ring.
“So, you know who I am,” he said. Denial was futile. And if she believed he was the crown prince, he might get to Xander faster. “Are you going to help me? There isn’t much time. The trials begin tonight. And—”
“No, they don’t,” she said. “The whole crystal city was aflutter with the news. The House of Whispers requested a delay, and the House of Peace granted them a single day to regroup. Though I realize now, what they’re actually trying to do is find you.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” Rafe countered. “Are you going to help me?”
“Why don’t you answer mine first,” she volleyed right back. “Why do you need my help?”
A growl rumbled in the back of his throat. This girl is infuriating. He knew what she was asking, what she wanted to hear. But they’d danced around the issue of their magic—he wasn’t sure if he was ready to come out with the full truth. “What do you want? A vow of silence? You have it. Coins? I can get them. Jewels? I have access to those too. But I need out of this…” He paused, glancing around at the rock and the impenetrable darkness. “Out of this hovel.”
“Don’t.” Her voice was so sharp it startled him. Her eyes flashed with something he hadn’t expected—lightning bolts of hurt. “Don’t question my character. I saved you because you would have died if I hadn’t. At least, I thought so at the time. And I’m asking for nothing in return, nothing but honesty.”
Rafe bit back a retort as she tended to the fie unnecessarily, composing herself.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered over the crackling of the flames, the only sound in their hidden world. “You’re right, and I’m sorry. And…” He took a deep breath, gathering his strength as though preparing for battle. “And I need your help because flesh wounds are easy, but broken bones, broken wings? Those take time and energy to heal. Time and energy that I don’t have.”
Her features softened in understanding as her ivory wings dropped slightly, relaxing. “I’ll help you.” She furrowed her brow apologetically. “But not until tomorrow. I have to get home before they— Before it gets too late.”
She stood, brilliant wings fanning out against the darkness, glowing in the orange firelight.
“What?” Rafe asked, disoriented by the sudden shift.
She backed away. “I have to go, I’m sorry. I’ve been gone too long already. But there’s more wood, more water, more food. And, oh!” Her body jolted. “Clothes, there are warm clothes, clean clothes. And a rag to wash yourself with. But I have to go. I’m sorry, but I— I just have to.”
“Wait,” he called after her, stretching out his arm. Immediately, white-hot bolts of pain coursed through him, stealing his vision and his breath. Rafe collapsed to the floor, clenching his jaw against the agony, waiting for it to pass.
By the time he opened his eyes, she was gone.
And he was alone, very much trapped where she’d left him.
11
Lyana
Everything within Lyana screamed that she had to get out of there, away from him, away from those blue, blue eyes that seemed to yank the floor out from under her, sending her tumbling into a place she’d never been before.
His body had been covered in rags. His face hidden behind a sheen of gruesome blood. But those eyes, stark, confident, and unafraid to challenge her, those had pierced her, and she had to get away. To the sky. To the fresh air.
Lyana soared through the cavern, the subtle silver of moonlight her only guide through the darkness. The white patches of Cassi’s wings became visible as she neared the exit, but Lyana didn’t bother to stop for her friend. Instead, she burst through the narrow opening, practically tumbling into the channel between the cliffs, and pumped her wings to rise up, up, up and over the edge. She finally dropped to solid ground, leaned her head back, and took a deep, restorative breath of crisp air.
Staring up at the stars glittering in the night sky, she let her heart slow down and found balance. The stars seemed different somehow. Brighter. Just different. As though they’d shifted while she dwelt in the shadows of the cave and now were arranged in a more significant way, aligned in a pattern that had to mean something.
Cassi landed in front of Lyana, blurting, “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” She kept her gaze on the sky.
“What happened? Did he… Are you…” Cassi shook her head as her feathers bristled. “Just tell me what happened.”
Lyana dropped her chin, noticing that her friend’s gray eyes seemed molten with concern and fear. Yet her own face was entirely different. A slow grin pulled at her cheeks as a wave of emotions bubbled beneath her skin—confusing and overwhelming but undeniably good. Her blood had turned to hummingbird nectar, making her light-headed and giddy with the fizz.
“He’s the crown prince,” Lyana murmured.
Cassi frowned. “What?”
“He’s the crown prince,” Lyana repeated, her voice between a whisper and a shriek. “I saw the royal seal hanging from a chain around his neck. I asked him, and he didn’t deny it.”
Actually, she’d teased him. She’d pushed and prodded, testing his limits, trying to see how far charm could take her.
He’d been gruff, and a bit of a grump, which was understandable, of course, given the circumstances. But there had been a moment, right at the end, when he’d bit, and she’d bit right back. Something had flashed in his eyes, making them seem bottomless and tumultuous, just the way she always imagined the ocean beneath the Sea of Mist might be. Then he’d been sorry, and so kind. Honest and compassionate, vulnerable in a way she was too afraid to be.
And she’d fled.
Lyana sighed—an airy, breathy sound.
Cassi did too, but her sigh was frustrated and annoyed, laced with stress. “He’s the crown prince? Are you serious?”
“Why are you always asking me that?”
“Why are you always saying things I can’t believe are possibly true?”
“Don’t you see how amazing this is?” Lyana asked, her head still in the stars.
Cassi gripped her shoulders, pulling her back down. “Don’t you see how complicated this makes things? He’s the Crown Prince of the House of Whispers. That changes everything. We’ll need to let him go before the trials. We’ll need to release him. And what if he recognizes you? What if he reveals your secret? What if—”
“He won’t.”
“Won’t what?”
Lyana held Cassi's gaze, taking her hands and squeezing them. “He won’t reveal my secret.”
Cassi’s wings drooped as strength abandoned her, h
er head falling slightly to the side as a warm yet pitying look took over her face. “How do you know that? You can’t. You’re too trusting, Ana. Too sheltered by your station in life to understand how awful people can be.”
Lyana held back her retort. She knew he wouldn’t reveal her secret, because he had a secret of his own—one he would want kept at all costs as well. But that secret belonged to him. It wasn’t hers to share, not even with her best friend.
“Maybe I’m naïve,” she said instead, with a shrug. “Or maybe I’m too optimistic, but he promised, Cassi. He promised me, and I believe him.”
Her friend remained unconvinced.
But Lyana’s next words were sure to change her mind. “Besides, he wouldn’t sentence his own mate to death.”
“His own…” Cassi's eyes darted back and forth as she considered the meaning of that sentence. Then they widened almost comically. “Ana! You’re going to pick a raven?” Her disbelief was acute. “You know what everyone whispers. That they’re cursed. That the gods are turning their backs on them. They’re notoriously secretive. Notoriously wary of outsiders. You haven’t even met the princes of the other houses, haven’t even seen them.”
Lyana shrugged. “I don’t care. I don’t need to. He’s going to be my mate, whether he wants to or not.”
Cassi rolled her eyes, but Lyana was serious. The moment she had seen the silver glow of his unblemished skin, the second she had spotted the ring dangling from his neck, the instant she had met those impossibly deep eyes, she had known exactly what she was going to do. Because he already knew her grave secret, which meant she would have nothing to hide. She could be herself. And that was all she’d ever wanted in a mate—someone who saw the real girl beneath the princess and accepted her.
All the fear that had been coiling in her gut the past few weeks was gone. All the uncertainty. All the nerves. They’d vanished.
Instead, there was just stubborn anticipation, and a newfound eagerness to let the courtship trials begin.
The Raven and the Dove Page 7