“Who?”
Her gaze darted about the room. “Is it safe to speak?”
“She’s not here.” Kasiandra, his darling little traitor, the thorn in his side. There was no telling when her haunting spirit might decide to drop in for a visit, but she was, for the moment, absent. “Proceed.”
“There’s been another incident with the raven.”
He clasped his fingers behind his back and squeezed them until his arms began to tremble. If his mage noticed, she didn’t say. Though he prided himself on control, he wasn’t able to keep the bite from his voice as he asked, “What?”
“It happened not an hour ago. A dragon attacked one of the trading outposts and was brought down. The traders thought they’d won, until the raven appeared from the mist, shouting that the battle wasn’t over. Moments later, a second dragon attacked from above. The dormi’kine was there, on one of the ships. He said the fire devoured the raven, burning half the outpost before the mages had time to react. Then the beast, for no rhyme or reason, simply disappeared. By the time the flames cleared, the raven stood alone, unscathed among the wreckage.”
“Did no one think to catch him?”
“He retreated too quickly.”
Fools, Malek seethed, yet deep down he knew it was his own fault. The man was invincible, and on top of that, he’d given him wings. He should have known better. He should have just killed him when he’d had the chance. No amount of information was worth all this, and now the very fate of the world was in jeopardy.
“Say it,” he commanded, noting the hesitation in Jacinta’s deep brown eyes.
“There were rumors…” she offered slowly.
Of course there were. Every ship in his kingdom was rife with them, and now, nearly every city too. Just last night, he’d received reports of the gossip finally reaching Da’Kin. With his presence so close, only the boldest sailors dared question his position as the King Born in Fire—but in a way that made it worse, giving weight to the words, making them even more alluring. Meanwhile, he could do nothing. To speak out would only feed the flames.
Malek was stuck, and the position left him fuming.
If not for one simple fact, he’d fly into a rage right now—Kasiandra didn’t know. He was sure of it. The owl had spent too much of her life among the royals above the clouds. She wouldn’t think to go to the gambling halls for information. She wouldn’t dare step foot inside a brothel, not even as a spirit. While she was shrewd in some regards, she was naive in others, exactly as he’d crafted her to be. Though born beneath the mist, she had no idea how this world within the fog truly functioned, and he had to keep it that way.
Lyana could never know what people whispered. But with each passing day the raven remained free, Malek’s time ran out. A few more daring feats, and the gossip might grow too large to contain.
“Go on.”
“More of the same, but there was one thing I thought might catch your interest. The dormi’kine overheard two men suggesting the raven might somehow speak to the beasts. They said he appeared to know of the second dragon’s presence before anyone else, as though he’d sensed it, as though, somehow, he was connected to them, perhaps mentally.”
Now that was intriguing.
It wasn’t the first time the thought had entered his mind. They could sense magic across great distances, suggesting some sort of connection to the spirits, but he’d never had proof. Was that why they kept coming through the rift? Were they calling to each other? Calling for help? And if so, could he silence them?
This might be the key to ending the war—or at the very least, to delaying it. He needed more information. For that and so many other reasons, he needed to catch the raven. And if none of his mages were up to the task, then maybe he needed to do it himself.
“Anything else?”
“No, my liege.”
“Good. Find Viktor and tell him to prepare my ship. We leave tonight.”
“For where?”
Malek’s lips twisted into a grin. “For a hunt.”
17
Lyana
Hyadria was a notoriously difficult place to locate. It was commonly referred to as the Sky City, but in truth, the famed floating homes and walkways were buried beneath a thick rainforest canopy, nearly impossible to spot from above. The hollowed-out trees fit perfectly into the landscape, the wooden platforms blended with the branches, and the rope bridges looked like little more than vines. Or so she’d been told.
Luckily for Lyana, eyesight wasn’t the only sense at her disposal. She would have been able to find the city even without the help of the two escorts who’d been waiting for them at the edge of the House of Paradise. Its inhabitants called out to her, their spirits loud and yearning. Fear, accusation, and anger saturated the air, twisting her gut. Something was terribly wrong.
“How much farther?” she called to their guides.
“We’re close, Queen Lyana. Only a few minutes more.”
Xander eyed her curiously, then dipped his left wing to swerve closer. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, yet,” she told him, keeping her voice low as they slowed, moving to the back of the flock where their conversation wouldn’t carry on the wind. “But something’s off. The people—their unrest is palpable.”
“From the earthquake, surely?”
“No.” Lyana bit her lip to hide her frown. “No, this is something else. They’re too united. Their feelings are too similar, as though turned on the same target. Whatever it is, it’s happening now.”
A horn sounded, announcing their arrival. The raven flock followed the birds of paradise through a narrow break in the foliage, easy to overlook. As soon as they dipped under the tree line, the city emerged. Suspended walkways hung as far as the eye could see, connecting the intricate network of hollowed-out trees housing homes and shops. Terraces circled the wide trunks, stacked at every level, some so low they could barely be seen through the leaves. The ground waited somewhere out of sight, wet and swampy. Under normal circumstances, Lyana wouldn’t have been able to take her eyes from the oversized vegetation, some of the vibrant flower petals below as large as her wings. As it was, she could only focus on one thing.
There were no people.
Despite the spirits clinging to her like beggars, not a single soul was visible. The bridges and verandas were vacant.
“Where is everyone?” Lyana asked as soon as they landed behind their escorts on a large wooden platform at the outer edge of the city. An eerie tingle scratched up her spine.
“I’m not sure, Queen Lyana,” one of the escorts said, her bewilderment evident. “Perhaps the queen called everyone to the city center.”
“Why?”
The two escorts shared a look.
An ominous pit formed in her stomach. “Take us there immediately.”
“Queen Lyana,” the man beseeched. “We were told to wait here until—”
Uninterested in hearing more, Lyana leapt from the platform. Her magic flared to life beneath her skin, guiding her through the unfamiliar city. Spirits clawed for the power. A buzz charged the air, building and building, toward what she didn’t know. There was so much anger, so much hate, all she wanted to do was smother the ugly feelings.
This isn’t good.
This definitely isn’t good.
The distant drum of an authoritative voice hammered at her ears, but it took a few seconds for her to understand.
“…carries the penalty of death.”
No!
Her stomach dropped to her toes. Suddenly, the truth became clear. An execution. That was the charged sensation, the cause for all the rage, and there was only one known reason for executions in the world above.
Please don’t let me be too late.
The city center slipped into view. A sprawling platform connected five different tree trunks, each seeming to house a different sector of the palace if the ornate suspended walkways and buildings were anything to go by. Above the crowd, on a balcony ca
rved from gleaming white stone, the royal family presided—Queen Zara in deep amethyst silks, her honey-russet wings tucked behind her sandy shoulders; King Arie in a matching violet coat, his iridescent citrine hummingbird wings blending with the leaves; Crown Prince Milo in more subdued evergreen leathers, his emerald neck plumage glistening; and finally Princess Elodie in a jade gown as the newest member of the family, her blue-and-orange songbird wings not quite blending with the scene. Beneath them, the entire population of Hyadria had gathered. Their faces were turned toward a raised dais where a boy sat with his head against a block. His bright red-and-brown wings tipped with a spot of hot yellow were a beacon to her eyes.
“Stop!” Lyana shouted.
The executioner hitched his sword.
“Stop!”
Faces turned toward her, but it was too late. The metal fell.
Stop! she shouted a final time, but instead of using her voice, she used her magic, reaching for the executioner's soul and bidding his body to freeze.
The blade halted an inch from the mage’s throat.
The crowd gasped.
Lyana swept over their heads and landed at a furious stride. In one move, she ripped the sword from the executioner’s hands and drove it into the wooden platform with enough force to make the shaft vibrate. The subtle ring of metal was loud across the shocked silence. Ignoring everyone except for the terrified child, Lyana knelt by his side. Even with the bag over his head, she could tell he was young by the small size of his body. She removed the covering to reveal a boy of no more than ten, his only crime the fact that he existed. Heart breaking for him, she pressed her palm to his cheek and slid her magic under his skin to still his trembling. At her touch, he finally opened his eyes, a spark of marvel within his pitch-black irises. Light and dark magic were the most difficult to hide. Their eyes gave the mages away, turning either as milky as a pearl or as shrouded as onyx as soon as the magic made itself known. The shift was visible even to those without power.
“Shh,” she whispered. “No one will hurt you today. I promise.”
“What is the meaning of this?” The queen’s sharp voice cut through the crowd.
The boy tensed.
Lyana stood and whipped around to face the queen, wearing a look cold enough to smother fire. “I should be asking you the same question, Queen Zara. What is the meaning of this? Surely you got the missive I sent. Our world is dying, and the gods have given us one gift with the power to save it. Yet you defy their generosity. You throw it to the wind.”
“Magic is an affront to the gods,” the queen answered calmly, placing her hands on the rail. Murmurs of agreement rose from the crowd as she leaned forward, spreading her wings with an inscrutable expression on her round face. “One letter from a newly crowned queen with no kingdom is not enough to change my mind on that.”
If Xander were there, he’d bid caution.
Too bad he hadn’t caught up yet.
“Is that so?” Lyana asked.
“Yes.”
“Fine, then I call upon Mnesme, god of arts and medicine, patron of the House of Paradise, to give us a sign.” Gasps rose. The queen’s upturned eyes widened. The sight only fueled Lyana’s ire. “If magic is evil, if this boy should die for possession of it, may she choose her murderer now. Step forward, and I will not stand in your way. Step forward and see your god’s will done.”
While she spoke, Lyana flooded the platform with her power. A wave of gold descended over the crowd, wrapping them in unbreakable binds. Behind her, the boy drew in a sharp, wonder-filled breath. He could see her magic. He could, and possibly a few others, but to the rest, the scene was unchanged—eerily unchanged, as though frozen in time.
Stay, she commanded their spirits. Do not move.
A breeze swept through the trees, ruffling their skirts and shifting their feathers, but their bodies were stuck.
“Come. If Mnesme wills his death, will none of you step forward? Will none of you devout servants carry out her wishes?”
The queen gestured to the king, and he vaulted over the edge of their balcony, his hummingbird wings carrying him swiftly across the distance. Lyana let him get as far as to tug the sword free from where she’d stuck it and lift it over his head before she stopped him.
Distantly, she felt the god stone thrum.
It was close, she knew, housed somewhere near the palace. The power of the rift called out to her, an urgent beat to match the rapid pounding of her heart. She was using too much magic by holding this many souls for so long. Yet she couldn’t let go. She refused to back down. The people needed to understand. They needed to believe her.
The stone wavered.
The rift spell weakened.
“I invoke all the gods,” she shouted, hoping her panic didn’t show. “If you want magic destroyed, send someone forward to kill this boy. Now. Show us your will.”
Still, no one moved. But their spirits shifted. With their bodies caught within her grasp, their fury diffused, turning instead to uncertainty, to confusion. One more moment, one more second, and she’d have them. Just one more—
The ground trembled.
It dropped.
The trees groaned and branches swayed. Rigid floorboards shuddered and snapped. Glass shattered and flaming oil caught rope, shooting a blaze across the clearing. In the back of her mind, Lyana heard squawking ravens and creaking metal, her own screams as the sacred nest of her former home threatened to collapse beneath the might of her new magic.
The memory snapped her from her daze.
She pulled her power beneath her skin, releasing the crowd at once. Screams lit the air. Several people took to the sky. But with her magic doused, the god stone stopped quaking. After a long moment, the earth fell still, leaving a deafening silence in its wake. Not a soul moved, this time of their own volition.
“You see who answered our call,” Lyana stated just as Xander and the rest of the ravens finally arrived at the scene, their two escorts trailing behind. He stared at her beneath furrowed brows. Lyana gestured, not to her flock but to the fire now cutting up the ropes, the sizzle loud in the quiet. “Vesevios is the only god who wants magic erased, because he knows it is our only weapon against him.”
Even from this distance, she swore she could hear Xander’s groan. He’d left her alone for a few minutes, and look what happened.
But Lyana held no regrets.
“By the power of Aethios, Taetanos, and all our patron gods,” she cried, “I cast you out, Vesevios! Be gone!”
Beneath the command of her magic, the flames retreated. Lyana gripped the wild spirit of the fire, taming it until every last spark burned out. Then she knelt and gathered the boy in her arms, helping him stand. Holding his hand, she led him above the crowd to where the ravens hovered, and then she turned back to the queen, now at her eye level.
“The boy is free—the gods will it so—and he is coming with me. When you’re ready to hear what else the gods command, when you’re finally ready to listen, you know where to find me.”
With that she spun and caught the eye of one of the escorts. Understanding the unspoken command, he jolted, glancing once between Lyana and his queen before leading their party away.
18
Xander
“They’re not coming,” Xander muttered.
“They are,” Lyana insisted. “They’re coming. Trust me.”
“They’re not.”
“They’re—”
A knock at the door cut her off, and she grinned triumphantly.
Inwardly, Xander groaned. He knew why she’d done what she’d done, and he couldn’t fault her. A boy’s life had been on the line. Swift action had been needed. Yet he’d had such high hopes for their negotiations with the House of Paradise—high hopes of getting at least one house on their side, an important first step in changing the tide of people’s minds. Queen Zara had reached out to them for help. She’d told them about the earthquake. She’d asked them to come. And the first thing they�
�d done was challenge her before the entire city, immediately putting her on the defensive.
Still, on the other side of the door, two guards and an escort stood with an invitation to meet with the royal family. Xander and Lyana quickly took them up on the offer, following the trio back toward the city center. The sun had started to set, casting Hyadria in a golden glow as soft beams cut through the trees, flickering with the movement of the leaves. The people had gone back to their daily routines, the constant flutter of colorful wings a comfort compared to the unnerving absence of it during his first flight through the city. Little more than an hour had passed since the stalled execution, but perhaps an hour was all they’d needed for tempers to calm. Queen Zara was waiting for them on a wide balcony, her dark brown eyes unreadable in the dying light as she welcomed them inside her home.
In stark contrast to the gaudy halls of the House of Song, the palace here was built directly into the trees, in hollowed cores and carved stairs and rooms suspended off the bark, relying on little more than natural beauty for its decor. Views of the forest greeted them at every turn. Flowers descended from the ceilings. Polished wood grains swirled along the walls and across the floors, giving an almost painterly effect. Every inch of the space had been meticulously designed, and yet the overall effect was soothing, as though the palace were one with the forest, a tribute to Mnesme and the fine arts.
They settled in a room balanced on the highest branches, where the rest of the royal family sat waiting on plush floor cushions, no longer in formal garb but in relaxed silken robes. A warm floral scent filled the air, emanating from the kettle set in the center of a low table. It was unlike any meeting space he’d been in before, nothing like the heavy wooden chairs and table in the castle where he’d grown up. Servants poured him and Lyana cups of herbal tea before disappearing through the door. The flavor instantly soothed him as he took his place upon the floor, his leather pants a bit restrictive as he tried to fold his legs. Lyana’s lips twitched with a grin when his clothes groaned in protest. With a sigh, he simply stretched his long legs before him, trying to hide them beneath the table.
The Dragon and the Queen (The Raven and the Dove Book 3) Page 12