The Raven and the Dove

by Kaitlyn Davis

  Think.

  Think.

  Damien was fast, but Rafe could be faster. He could be better.

  Then he heard it. A gentle buzzing sound filtered into his ear, growing louder, into a—

  A hum.

  A hum!

  Rafe widened his eyes as the realization hit, twisting toward the sound just in time to lift his dual swords, catching the prince’s blow with one arm and lashing out with the other, this time forcing his foe to retreat.

  A hum.

  Of course, a hum.

  Rafe didn’t need to be faster—he just needed to listen. Damien’s speed was the very thing that gave him away. As with all hummingbirds, his wings flapped so fast they produced a light frequency, a gentle thrumming that was music to Rafe’s ears.

  He landed on his feet and closed his eyes. The room grew quiet as he pushed the noise of the crowd away, searching for that singular sound.

  There.

  Spinning on his heels, Rafe lashed out before Damien had a chance to attempt an attack. The prince retreated, rapidly shifting directions as Rafe charged, swinging his twin blades in sweeping arcs, high then low, left then right, kneeling and using his wing to knock the prince off balance before making for his thigh to draw first blood.

  The hummingbird jumped, narrowly escaping.

  Rafe remained on the ground, daring the prince to come back and face him.

  The game took place three more times before the bell chimed once, the ding lingering as it stretched across the arena, signaling their time was almost up, signaling their fight would end in a tie.

  But that couldn’t happen—Rafe couldn’t let it.

  He needed to win. Xander needed to win. The ravens needed to win. So, he did the last thing he wanted to do, a cheap trick in such a setting, and took a deep breath before releasing his piercing shriek.

  The hummingbird became visible immediately. His wingbeats slowed and his form turned solid. He blinked, confused for a second.

  A second was all Rafe needed.

  Before Damien’s vision had time to clear, Rafe was there, sword pressed against the prince’s throat, victorious. And while he wished he could say the urge to glance at Ana never crossed his mind, that was a lie—although he did stop himself from acting on the impulse, instead gluing his eyes to the ground as he waited for his next opponent to step forward.

  Rafe fought four more times, won three and tied with the dove prince, refusing to use his raven cry again. Because he didn’t need to. Everyone else had lost at least once except for him, and even with a tie, the committee declared him the winner. He had closed out the first day of tests at the head of the flock.

  Tonight, he would sleep well.

  Tomorrow, he would compete in games of strategy and intellect.

  And then he would be done.

  Whatever happened, he would be done, and he’d deal with the consequences as they came. For now, he kept his head down and his mind blank as he left the arena, and those dazzling emerald eyes, behind him.

  26

  Lyana

  “I did it, Cassi. I won,” Lyana exclaimed as she swept into her best’s friend room the following night, weary from the tests, yet rejuvenated by the thrill of victory coursing through her veins, lighting her every nerve on fire. “I get first pick for the girls! I won!”

  Cassi sat before the crystal wall to the outside, her back turned to Lyana, wings draped across the floor. At the sound of Lyana’s voice, she drew herself up. “You won?”

  Her tone was dubious at best.

  “Yes, I won,” Lyana confirmed indignantly, landing on Cassi’s bed, still bouncing with energy. “Did you doubt me?”

  Cassi glanced over her shoulder, one sharp brow raised over the rim of her reading glasses. “You didn’t cheat, did you?”

  Lyana glared at her friend. “No.”

  “Because the strength tests, I expected you to do well with those, but the mental examinations…?” Cassi trailed off, letting the implication hang for a few moments.

  “Oh, stuff it." Lyana threw a pillow at her face. "I beat you at games of strategy all the time.”

  Her friend dodged the attack easily. By the time she turned around, the edges of her lips had started to twitch. “Yes, but that’s because I let you.”

  “You do not.” Lyana wrinkled her nose, then offered a wicked grin of her own. “You’re too sore of a loser to let me beat you at anything.”

  Cassi looked at the ceiling as if weighing the truth of Lyana’s statement, then shrugged before crossing over to the bed. After placing her book and glasses on the side table, she collapsed onto the mattress and Lyana dropped by her side. The two of them became a mess of feathers and limbs, a position familiar to them.

  “What are you going to do?” Cassi asked, a heaviness Lyana didn’t understand in her voice.

  Letting her head fall to the side, Lyana studied her friend, but Cassi’s eyes remained on the ceiling, clouded by thoughts. “My father is sending a note to the House of Flight, requesting a mate match with Damien.”

  Cassi’s gaze sharpened as she turned toward Lyana. “You changed your mind?”

  It was a hopeful question. One whose answer Cassi already knew, which was why no surprise lit her features as Lyana replied, “No.”

  Cassi continued to stare, waiting for an explanation.

  Lyana’s elation quickly seeped from her bones, leaving her weary and exhausted, ready to reach the end of the trials, ready to let her new adventure begin. “I told my mother and father I wanted to match with the raven prince. They forbade it. But tomorrow, when the time comes, no matter what deal my father made, the choice will be mine. And I plan to do as I wish.”

  “Ana…”

  Words danced at the tip of Cassi's tongue. Lyana could practically see them, but she couldn’t begin to guess what they were. Her friend had never held back before. Now certainly wasn’t the time to begin.

  “What? Tell me.”

  “It’s just…” Cassi broke off and rose to a seated position, wrapping her wings close to her sides in a protective cocoon as though she couldn’t look at Lyana. “I’m worried you’re going to get hurt.”

  “Is that all?” Lyana asked lightly, reaching out to graze her friend’s wings, unsure where her sudden sullenness had come from.

  But Cassi wasn’t joking. Again, she glanced over her shoulder, silver eyes as impenetrable as the mist of the foggy sea below. “You’ve turned the raven into a fairy-tale prince because of a few stolen hours together, and I’m worried that in the end, the truth will only disappoint you.”

  The truth? Lyana thought, frowning. It was an odd word to use, truth. Not in the end, the prince would only disappoint her. Not in the end, the House of Whispers would only disappoint her. Not in the end, her dreams would only disappoint her.

  But the truth.

  As if, somehow, Cassi saw a lie Lyana had not yet uncovered.

  She shook her head, because the only truth was that in the end, it didn’t matter.

  “I know I can be too optimistic at times, too eager, too excited, but I’m not a fool, Cassi,” Lyana said. “I know my courtship isn’t one of love, but of political necessity. I know that no matter which prince I choose, a mutual respect and understanding might be all I can ever hope to receive. And I’m sure Damien would make a lovely mate. Beneath the arrogance, he seemed sweet, a good match. On paper, Lysander seems like the less obvious choice, more reserved, a little surly. But at least with him, I won’t have to hide who I am—what I am.”

  Cassi held her eyes shut for a moment, before turning away. “I get it, Ana. I get it.”

  Lyana nudged her with the tip of her ivory wing. “Is this about Luka?”

  Her friend’s shoulders caved in. “Am I so obvious?”

  Lyana released a breath. Of course. I’ve been the worst friend. I haven’t even asked how she’s feeling. I’ve been far too preoccupied with myself.

  “Are you—?”

  “Who is he going
to be matched with?” Cassi interrupted.

  “Iris,” Lyana told her softly. “The princess of the House of Paradise.”

  “What’s she like?”

  “She seems…” Lyana chewed her lower lip for a moment, unsure of what to say or how to say it. “Well, she won the speed trials and she performed admirably during hand-to-hand combat. A little more practice, and she might have beat me. At the ball on the first night, she dazzled the crowd with her graceful dancing and obvious charm. I think—well, I hope at least—that they’ll be happy together.”

  Lyana watched her friend nod silently, aware that the last thing Cassi would want to talk about was the only thing Lyana wanted to know—if she was all right. Cassi much preferred a witty retort to an honest answer, especially when it came to matters of the heart.

  “Hey, Ana?” Cassi whispered quietly. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Anything.”

  Cassi kept her speckled wings wrapped snugly around her shoulders. Lyana’s arms itched to do the same, to hold her friend close, to protect her from an invisible wound they had seen coming. Cassi studied the crumpled bedsheets, not accepting the sympathy Lyana wanted to provide. Instead, she picked at her sleeping trousers, finding pills that didn’t exist in the fabric.

  “Do you think— I mean, I’ve been thinking, well, wondering if maybe— It’s just, there’s not really a place for me here, anymore, at least I don’t feel there is, and I was hoping, that maybe you might, or I could, or we…” Cassi swallowed. The uncertainty in her voice was something Lyana had never heard before. The friend she adored was confident, not full of jumbled words that tripped over themselves, spilling in all sorts of directions that didn’t make sense.

  Lyana grabbed Cassi’s hands. “What? What are you trying to say?”

  Cassi's eyes snapped up, clear in a way that didn’t match the rest of her. “Can I go with you to the House of Whispers?”

  Lyana blinked.

  When her body caught up to her mind, she leaped onto Cassi’s chest, crushing her friend’s wings in an overly enthusiastic hug that threw them both off balance and sent them crashing into the pillows.

  “Yes!” she shrieked. “Yes, you must!”

  In truth, Lyana had secretly been hoping Cassi would make the suggestion for weeks, but she hadn’t wanted to push. Their whole lives were here, in the House of Peace, and just because Lyana was forced to uproot her existence, Cassi didn’t have to follow. But if her friend wanted to come along for the adventure, she certainly wouldn’t say no.

  “Do you think the ravens will allow it?” Cassi asked, voice somewhat suffocated by Lyana's weight.

  Lyana hastily sat, giving her friend room to breathe, and shrugged, mind already whirling. “So what if they don’t? Tomorrow their crown prince will whisk me away from the only home I’ve ever known so I can become the future queen of a foreign world.” She paused as the weight of what the morning would bring settled on her shoulders—so many dreams, so many questions, so many unknowns. Straightening her back, she proudly lifted her chin. “I dare him to even attempt to tell me no.”

  They both knew what that no entailed.

  Cassi closed her eyes and pretended to shudder. “I pity the man who tries to deny you.”

  Lyana grinned. “I do too, my friend. I do too.”

  27

  Xander

  The crystal palace was even more magnificent upon closer inspection. The sweeping front doors. The entry hallway that must have spanned two hundred feet, all encased in clear rocks, so every inch of the mosaic floor glistened with sunlight, reflecting the majestic sky above. The central atrium, its dome towering impossibly high with a carved staircase spiraling up the outer edges, leading to more rooms and suites than he could begin to count. And that grand sight didn't even take into account the royal families from every house, their ornate garments, the vast array of feathers and jewels, the vibrant patches of color dotted around the room. Xander was trying his best not to gawk, but the task was proving difficult, especially for a raven from a house shrouded in nothing but black.

  You’ve been participating in the trials for days, he silently reminded himself. After the parade of offerings, the ball, the tests themselves, this sight should be old news. Close your mouth. Level your gaze. And stop smiling like a blithering fledgling. You’re a crown prince, for Taetanos’s sake—pretend that you belong.

  The flash in his mother’s eyes seemed to say the same thing. Pull it together.

  They’d considered allowing Rafe to close the trials too, unwilling to risk their deception being discovered during this final ceremony. But in the end, Xander knew he needed to reveal his own face, not Rafe's, to all the watching royals. Once the trials were over and the matches set, the heirs would finally be granted free rein to travel between houses, so he needed to be sure his face was the one remembered. His hand could always be explained away later as an accident, but the differences between his and Rafe’s features, subtle as they were, could not.

  Xander tightened his grip on the arm of the throne to keep his fingers from tapping. The scratching of woodgrain against his left palm kept him grounded even as his heart continued to pound.

  Today, he was going to meet his mate.

  Today, he would prove to the world that his people had not lost favor with the gods.

  Today, he was going to give the House of Whispers a win.

  Because he’d been matched.

  Yesterday evening, Rafe had stormed into the raven guest quarters, grunting rather than speaking, eyes almost bleeding red, fists curled, all because he hadn’t won. Going into the second day of tests, he’d had the clear lead, but the dove prince caught him during the strategy games, and they’d ended the trials with a tie. But someone had to have first pick, and a son of Aethios would win that privilege every time. The committee had given Rafe the second male and third overall pick of mate, which despite his temper tantrum, was more than the House of Whispers had even dreamed to attain. But that wasn’t why Xander was smiling, why his heart thudded in his chest, why his eyes snapped toward the princess currently entering the room.

  A letter had arrived late in the night—a message from the House of Wisdom.

  Their princess had accepted his offer.

  Rafe had looked relieved that all his efforts hadn’t ended in failure. Xander had been too shaken to pay attention to the remaining anxiety in his brother’s gaze. All his muscles had relaxed and he’d wobbled on unsteady feet until his mother gripped his shoulders, pride bright in her eyes. Her emotion spurred him back to life. A wave of energy coursed through him like a strong portion of hummingbird nectar, making him light and airy, more buoyant than he could ever remember feeling, as though even without wings he could have floated into the sky.

  And now she was here.

  Coralee, Xander thought, watching as she flew down the entrance hall with the House of Wisdom, wings the color of raw honey, glowing like the dawn as the sun shone through them. Her amber feathers against the white silk of her dress was a living embodiment of the two colors of her house.

  He couldn’t wait to show Coralee his library. It would be nothing, he assumed, compared to the wondrous place where she’d grown up, but perhaps it would provide her with a small sense of home, so his house wouldn’t seem so strange, so foreign. And the maps, too. For a small island, they had a vast collection of maps—ones he used to study for days and days while Rafe practiced more physical pursuits. But Xander had always preferred the crisp shade of a reading room to swordplay under the hot summer sun, and the touch of rough parchment to a smooth leather hilt. The dusty smell of old books, though not always the most fragrant, was home, and he had a feeling Coralee would think the same.

  He’d had a dream the night before, of the two of them sitting side by side next to a fire on a cold winter night, swapping a volume back and forth, each taking turns reading a chapter aloud, her voice a lullaby in the dark. And maybe that was all it would ever be, a dream, but he hoped not.
He wanted more than just a match. He wanted a mate.

  “Welcome,” the King of the House of Peace boomed.

  Xander started, pulled from his thoughts. Coralee was watching him too, a small smile on her lips as though she found him amusing. He dropped his gaze, embarrassed that she’d caught him in the act of staring. The king continued to speak, but Xander couldn’t for the life of him listen, especially as his focus was drawn to his right hand by the questions swirling in the back of his mind.

  Would the princess continue to be amused when she realized she’d been duped?

  Or would she hate him for lying?

  Would she understand the necessity of the trick he’d pulled?

  Or would she turn from him forever?

  Did she want Rafe, the warrior?

  Or would she be satisfied with him instead?

  As he examined his hand, for a moment even he thought it was real. They’d sewn a glove to the sleeve of his jacket and stuffed it with soft clay, so it had the weight and suppleness of a real hand, and the look of five fingers, though they couldn’t bend. But if he rested it on the chair, no one would ever know the ruse. When he stood to remove his mask, the game would be a bit more difficult to play, but Rafe had used a special knot Xander could tug free with one hand. The only noticeable difference between them was the color of his eyes, lavender instead of Rafe’s sky blue, but his brother assured him he’d kept his gaze on the ground most of the time, so hopefully no one would notice. If they did, perhaps they’d shrug it off as a trick of the light. Another hour, and the trials would be over. By morning, they’d be on their way home with a new princess in tow. He just had to get through this final ceremony. And then— And then— And then—

  And then…what? Xander thought, shifting his weight in the seat, subtly moving his back muscles to stretch his wings. And then my mate will magically forgive me for starting our new lives with a lie? Will the gods really restore their favor after this, or will we be doomed?