The Dragon and the Queen (The Raven and the Dove Book 3)

by Kaitlyn Davis

  "Stop."

  Bastiant's mouth curled into a smile that could make even the sun go back into hiding. "Your vision?"

  "Not nearly so interesting as to cause all of this. I saw the throne room on fire. People were screaming and a roar shook the earth, then nothing."

  "That's all?"

  "My magic is a little more unwieldy than yours. It does what it wants, and all I can do is bear witness."

  "Well, at least I learned one thing tonight."

  "And what's that?"

  "Our marriage might not be so disappointing after all."

  I don't think I breathed as he walked away, dread like a vice around my throat. Even after the shimmer of his power left the air, I stood frozen by the fear. It wasn't until I felt a warm hand on my forearm that I finally snapped from the trance.

  "Princess?" Zavier asked, his voice like a fire on a cool winter's night, instantly fighting off the chill. "Are you all right?"

  "Of course."

  I nodded and turned toward my rooms. He hurried ahead to get the door while Mikhail lingered behind, his sword at the ready. There was no need. The danger had passed. Still, I didn’t argue as Zavier led me inside, through my quarters, all the way to my bedroom, his hunter's eyes scanning the shadows for hidden threats. When it was clear the area was safe, he strode quickly to the exit to give me my peace. Before he left, he paused in the doorway, drawing my gaze.

  "I'm sorry, Princess" he murmured, focused on the ground, though I could see the grooves etched into his forehead from his frown.

  "For what?" I asked.

  He turned to me with surprise. "For hurting you."

  It did not go unnoticed that for the first time he forgot to end the sentence with my title. His guard was down, and his hazel eyes were as deep as undiscovered forest pools. I held them, feeling my own walls crumble. "That wasn't your fault."

  "It was my sword."

  "You're not the first unwilling participant to lay a hand on me, and I doubt you will be the last. Please, don't feel guilty on my account. I know better than most how aethi'kine power works."

  The golden highlights in his eyes flashed with unmasked sadness. But I wanted his pity even less than his disregard. I'm a princess of the realm. My suffering is small compared to some of the other suffering I've seen.

  "Thank you," he finally said.

  I knew what he meant—thank you for sparing him and Mikhail both, for choosing their lives above my secrets. The cost tonight was small, a simple vision, but we both knew that with time, revealing my weakness would exact a greater price. Oh well, Bastiant was right. I have a soft heart. If he didn’t discover it tonight, I doubt I would have been able to hide it for very long.

  "Good night, Soldier Zavier."

  "Good night, Princess."

  He stayed for one more moment and we held each other’s gazes across the distance. For the first time, despite the title, I think maybe he saw me as a woman. A charge filled the air, spreading a heat across my skin, and then he was gone. The feeling remained, though. Even now, as I write, my cheeks are flushed.

  Something changed tonight.

  And if that's the case, my sacrifice was most definitely worth it.

  * * *

  Twenty-Third Day of the Fourth Moon

  * * *

  Bastiant is still here, but the days have been uneventful. He's agreed to our marriage. To my father, he is ever the charming soon-to-be son-in-law. He hasn’t cornered me in the halls again, though I get the sense he's just biding his time. Soon enough, I'll be his to do with as he wills.

  The very thought makes me queasy.

  So I try to focus on other things—my people, my kingdom, all the lives that will be saved by securing this alliance so none of the neighboring aethi'kine will dare attack us.

  Mostly, though, I concentrate on Zavier.

  My attention slides to him as though by strings, and lately I've felt his gaze upon my skin as well. I study the way the light falls across his bare biceps, the way it plays along his sun-kissed skin, the way his muscles flex and coil as he moves. I trace the outline of his wings and imagine what it might feel like to brush my fingers over his feathers, to watch them ripple at my touch. Sometimes, I wonder what it might be like to fly. Not myself, of course, but in his arms, the ground a blur below me as I huddle against his warm chest, the breeze swirling around us. In the privacy of my room, I envision more intimate things, the sort that make me blush to even write—what it would be like to press my lips against his, to kiss my way down his throat, to feel the deep rumble of a sigh beneath skin.

  Do avians make love the way we do? I never thought to wonder, but now I do. As my marriage night goes from a far-off future to a very real possibility, I can't help but dream of my first time with a noble warrior instead of a cruel mage. I doubt even my mother would fault me. What did she think on the eve of her union with my father? Did she have a lover first to show her the way? Or was she a proper lady, honored to be chosen as queen?

  I suspect the first.

  But perhaps it's just my own selfish desires that wish it might be so, that if she were alive she might understand me. It makes me feel a little less alone.

  Tomorrow is my last day with my future husband. He'll return in a few moons for our wedding, and though I'm not experienced in seduction, I think it would be a rather enjoyable way to spend my time in the interim.

  * * *

  Twenty-Fourth Day of the Fourth Moon

  * * *

  Something is about to happen. Something big is coming. I don’t know what, but I know when—tonight. Which is why I'm writing this down in case I don't get the chance.

  I had a vision this morning.

  After breakfast, I took a walk in the gardens to clear my head, Zavier and Mikhail following me dutifully. I paused to smell some of the jasmine newly bloomed after the cool winter and plucked a bud. As I crushed the petals and lifted them to my nose, I felt the tingle at the back of my neck. Before I could blink, I was deep in the future.

  Wind rushed against my cheeks. Warm arms held me close. My forehead was pressed against a solid chest and my eyes shut as I trembled with fear. The air prickled with magic, crashes and booms so loud they made me jump.

  "I've got you," a man whispered in my ear. Zavier. I would know his deep voice anywhere, and instantly the sound calmed me. "We're almost—"

  He broke off and my eyes shot open.

  The window he flew toward disappeared behind a cascade of falling stone, but I recognized our location by the richly painted archways—the banquet hall. The starry pendants on the ceiling caved in and the room collapsed around us. He dove, to where I'm still not sure. All I saw were the flowing violet skirts of my gown as they rose to cover my face. I tried to swat them away, but before I knew it, the screaming chaos was replaced by perfect silence.

  Then, "Zavier!"

  Not me, someone else. Someone older, a voice filled with fear.

  The vision ended.

  I still don't understand what it means. How did we escape so quickly? Where did we go? Who did that voice belong to?

  I dropped my hand from the jasmine and turned to face him. I'm not sure what gave me away, but understanding lit his gaze. Somehow, he knew I had a vision. Somehow, he sensed my magic. And by the look in my eyes, he must have known I'd seen him.

  When I returned to my rooms, my maid was there with my evening dress already laid upon the bed, the same deep violet silks from my vision. Whatever I saw, it's happening tonight. It's happening now, as soon as I finish writing this and I leave my room for dinner. Bastiant is going to act. My father, I'm sure, will stop him. I could try to warn him, but I don't want to change the future I've seen—I want to fly. I want Zavier to whisk me away. I want to know this secret of his that waits just out of reach. But the future, even from visions so clear, can be fickle, which is why I wrote this down.

  Just in case I don't come back: I love you, Mother.

  I'll see you in the aether.
/>   22

  Cassi

  The pyro’kine circled down the steps, a dinner tray balanced in one hand while the other sizzled before him like a torch, lighting the way through the dark halls at the base of Malek’s castle. The moisture along the walls sparkled. In the darkness outside that moving halo, Cassi hovered unseen.

  She’d been planning Elias’s escape for days, neglecting all her other duties, and the time to act was finally here. There was no telling how soon Malek would return, but when he did, she’d lose her chance. His mages were vulnerable without him, and she planned to capitalize on that weakness. Elias, of course, had no idea. He feared magic far too much. Though she’d whispered subtle suggestions through his dreams, trying to make him understand the entire plan would have been more than he could handle. Besides, he was a warrior. When he saw the opening, he’d take it. At least, she hoped he would.

  The pyro’kine stopped outside their cell and set down the tray. The keys jingled loudly in the silence as he tugged them free of his belt and lifted them to the lock.

  Please hear that, Elias.

  Please be ready.

  The door to the cell swung open. In the back corner of the room, Elias stood protectively before her immobile body, his sandy wings spread to either side like a shield. Suspicion shone in his deep brown eyes as he watched the man push the tray deeper into their room. The flames around the fire mage’s hand brightened. Elias stepped back involuntarily, his sharp intake of breath loud against the silence. In her spirit form, Cassi could feel the mage’s amusement. It made her want to scream.

  Elias bent his knees, shifting subconsciously into the stance of a soldier at the ready. The tray scraped against the stone, inching farther and farther into the room, until finally it was beyond the door. The mage straightened and reached for the knob.

  Cassi acted.

  Shooting through the shadows, she forced her spirit inside his mind and took hold of his thoughts. The mage rebelled against her. While dreams were easy, Cassi had to claw and scrape and dig with her magic to hold on to his waking mind. He expelled her within moments.

  A satisfying crack split the air.

  By the time Cassi righted herself, the mage was unconscious on the floor. Elias stood above him with the water jug in his hand, the gray stone bright with blood. He tossed it to the side, the remaining liquid splashing as it fell.

  Go, she thought. Go.

  But he didn’t. He stood frozen before the open door, his jaw clenched. Then in one fell swoop, he spun on his heels and knelt before her bed.

  “Come on, Cassi,” he murmured as he shoved his hands beneath her back and knees, then scooped her into his arms. “Time to go.”

  No, she wanted to scream, but it was useless. Leave me, Elias. Forget about me. Save yourself!

  He didn’t. He wouldn’t. The sight warmed her heart, affection and annoyance both ripe and burning. It was her curse in life to be surrounded by noble idiots—her curse and her blessing.

  The light from their cell only extended so far, and after moments of running, they were enshrouded in darkness. Elias used his wings to feel along the walls, his feathers scraping painfully against the uneven stones as he searched for the opening. Luckily, the stairs weren’t far, and he found them quickly. The climbing was slow in the narrow, circular passage, the cramped space too tight for their wings. He moved gingerly to avoid crushing her feathers, which dragged along the floor.

  Idiot, she silently cursed the entire time. Beautiful idiot.

  They reached the top and he braced her against the wall as he slid open the door, blinking away the sudden brightness. No one waited on the other side. They were alone, as she’d known they would be at this late hour of night.

  Go, she thought. Go.

  Excitement fluttered through her spirit. The plan was actually working. He was going to make it.

  Elias ran down the hall, his bare feet silent on the rug. If she had breath, she would have held it, waiting for some sort of alarm to sound. But they weren’t used to housing prisoners in the castle, and they’d underestimated him, seeing only his lack of power and not his other skills. He took the corners slowly, checking for guards before dashing around the bends. Cassi knew exactly where they were, but he didn’t—he couldn’t.

  Go right, she silently urged. Turn right.

  At the next fork, he cut right as though he’d heard her voice in his thoughts. At the end of the hall, a balcony waited, the heavy curtains stirring in the breeze. His spirit lifted. So did hers. Elias ran, no longer worrying about caution. His wings began to beat. His feet barely touched the ground. They soared, closer, closer, closer, and—

  A spout of water shot through the opening and slammed into Elias’s chest, knocking him backward. As her body spilled across the floor, Cassi’s spirit spun. A mage stood behind them, blue simmering at her fingertips while she tunneled water in from the outside. Despite the flood, Elias jumped to his feet, ripped a torch from the walls, and hefted it like a club. Before he could take a swing, a liquid sphere encircled his face, churning around his mouth and nose to cut off air.

  Stop!

  No one heard her scream. She lay useless on the floor, her mouth open and unmoving, even as her spirit cried.

  Stop!

  Elias’s body twitched. His arms dropped as he swayed unsteadily on his feet. The water kept cycling, kept spinning.

  Stop!

  Cassi slammed into the mage’s mind. Same as the last time, within moments she was expelled, unable to hold on. Elias knelt on his hands and knees, coughing as the breath rushed to his lungs. The hydro’kine glanced suspiciously around the hall, a knowing look in her eyes. A whistle rose to her lips. Elias scrambled toward Cassi’s body as two more mages rushed into the hall.

  Leave me, she whimpered. Go. Go.

  He grabbed her by the armpits and tried to drag her toward the balcony. Wind rushed through the opening, pressing against his chest like a living wall. Still, Elias fought, gritting his teeth as he battled for just one more inch. The metal torch on the ground rose into the air, surrounded by flecks of green. His eyes widened in fear one moment before it whipped into his stomach, knocking the breath from his lungs. He stumbled backward. The torch swung, swiping his legs out from underneath him. Elias dropped. Once more, the torch came down, this time into the center of his chest. Her friend groaned in pain.

  Cassi crashed into the ferro’kine, all the while knowing it was no use. He swatted her from his mind as though swatting a bug from the air, and by the time she emerged, Elias was already bound at the wrists.

  Against three mages, they had no hope. At least not like this—her body splayed across the soaked carpet, her limbs motionless. All she wanted to do was sink into her skin, rise from the floor, and defend him—but she couldn’t. She could do nothing as they hauled him through the castle and back into the cell. The slamming of the door reverberated through the darkness.

  She was useless.

  No—less than useless. She was a burden. A liability. If not for her limp body, he might have made it to freedom. He would have moved faster, flown more swiftly. He could have been halfway home by now.

  “I’m sorry, Cassi,” he whispered over her body after the mages had hauled her back into the cell. “I’m so sorry. I tried. I tried.”

  It’s not your fault.

  It was me.

  I failed you.

  She wanted to scream. She wanted to kick over a barrel. She wanted to punch a wall. She wanted to throw and tear and rip and pull until the entire castle was in shambles. She wanted to knock it down stone by stone. This had been her one shot to do something, something tangible, not sharing messages or eavesdropping or spying, but something that made her feel good, something that made her feel alive. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt alive.

  Except she could.

  It had been in the dark hall of the owl archives, her body pressed against Xander’s, her lips grazing his throat, his hand digging into her waist as his
breath washed over her skin. That was the last time she remembered feeling that potent spark of life, that unique burn of being perfectly in a moment, of being awake in every sense of the word.

  She wanted to feel that way again.

  She needed to feel that way again.

  By the time her mind caught up with her spirit, she was already racing through the mist. Cassi burst through the fog, the moon and stars goading her on as they twinkled defiantly in the darkness. The House of Paradise loomed like a shadow overhead. This was a bad idea. A terrible one. A mistake.

  She couldn’t stop.

  She didn’t—not until she pushed through the tree trunk to find him peacefully asleep, a soft smile on his lips. He was stretched across the floor, one arm flung casually above his head while the other rested across his abdomen, hand hidden beneath the sheets. His wings unfurled, taking up most of the floor. Lyana slept soundly on the bed, her dove wings acting the cocoon as she turned away from Xander toward the wall. The King and Queen of the House of Whispers. It was a sham, but the thought still stopped her cold.

  He was a king. She was a traitor.

  He was honest. She was a spy.

  He was undeniably good. She was irrevocably damned.

  They would never be, which was why she hadn’t visited his dreams. It would be too painful to spend even a moment inside his beautiful mind, remembering the night they’d flown through imagined worlds together, knowing it would never be the same now that he knew the truth of who she was. She didn’t want to taint that single perfect memory—that one stolen night.