I, of course, was forgotten, my magic useless in this sort of war. I wondered what it said about my father's spirit that Bastiant didn’t even attempt to use me as a bargaining chip, my life for my father's surrender, though I didn’t dwell on the thought. Truth be told, I knew long ago that my father would always choose himself.
Soon, the room began to tremble beneath the strain of so much power. That's when Mikhail and Zavier acted. The battle must have looked silly to them before that, the power invisible to their magicless eyes, nothing but men and women bending to unseen forces. But as the stone walls groaned and fissures snaked their way across the ceiling, even the avians realized the severity of what was happening.
Zavier grabbed my hand. "Come with me, Princess."
Together we ran for the door, but as we neared, a marble column snapped and crashed to the floor. Zavier skidded to a stop, using his body as my shield. Dust fell from the ceiling, whispering of instability. He glanced to Mikhail. They spoke without needing words, the sort of companionship I envy, and together turned toward the opposite end of the banquet hall, to the massive rose window revealing the dying light of the sun.
"I'll go first," was all Mikhail said before he took to the air.
Zavier scooped me into his arms, and we were flying. Unlike in my vision, I didn't tremble with fear or shut my eyes. I did, however, curl into the warmth of his chest to breathe in his soothing essence. The muscles around me were firm and comforting, his strength undeniable, his prowess too as we cut across the room. The ties at the top of his shirt came loose and I pressed my cheek to the hollow of his throat, unable to deny the yearning to feel the heat of his skin.
I'm terrible, I know.
My father was a few steps from doom. My kingdom on the brink of disaster. My future husband the cause of it all. And yet I hardly cared, protected as I was in the circle of Zavier's arms. Perhaps I knew that nothing would ever be the same, and I needed to take those few moments of calm before the storm. Perhaps I'm what my father always feared, a foolish girl. Perhaps I'm just like so many other lonely souls, desperate for the barest hint of connection. I drank those few moments in, waiting for the inevitable.
Mikhail crashed through the window, shattering the glass and clearing a path to safety. But I already knew it wouldn’t be enough. Before we reached the window, the ceiling collapsed, just like in my vision. Zavier dove with all the grace of an eagle on the kill. My skirts flew into my face, but having predicted that, I clutched them to my chest, clearing my eyes. A blast of energy surged into our sides, tossing us off course, directly under the falling debris. Zavier was fast, but not fast enough. We were going to be crushed. I heard him mutter a soft curse, and then, just as we were about to slam into the floor, the world glittered white. It was the same white I'd seen for the first time only minutes before—the ivory sparks of spatio'kine magic.
Zavier landed hard on a mud-packed floor, dropping to one knee as he set me down. The world was eerily peaceful compared to the chaos we'd left behind, but his body oozed tension, thickening the air between us. And then the same scream from my vision broke the silence.
"Zavier!"
I rolled to the side before he could stop me, my gaze going toward the woman. In an instant, her identity became clear—the same hazel eyes, the same sun-kissed skin. Her wavy hair was streaked with ivory highlights, and wrinkles hinted at her age, but there was no mistaking his mother. Anger and fear built in her gaze as it shifted between me and her son.
"What have you done?" she demanded.
"What I had to," he said softly, tossing me a lingering glance, one I could feel as easily as a touch though I kept my eyes on her, wondering at her reaction as a derisive snort escaped her lips. "She spared my life when she could've sacrificed it. I was duty bound to save hers."
He had magic.
I didn’t think avians could have magic. I'd never heard of it before, never seen it. This was wonderful. Elation grew like a tide within me, until I finally turned to meet his shattered expression. Confusion punctured my excitement.
"You saw?" he asked.
I nodded.
"You understand?"
I swallowed, looking back and forth between him and his mother. "You're a spatio'kine." A bit of the light seeped from his eyes and his jaw clenched. "It's marvelous. My father will be thrilled. We don't—"
"You can't tell him," Zavier said, his voice louder as he reached out to clutch my hand. "It's forbidden."
I glanced down at our entwined fingers, his golden skin against my olive, wanting more than anything to rub my thumb across his palm, but he snatched his hand away.
"Forgive me, Princess."
He seemed to remember himself, who I was and who he was, and he jumped to his feet, offering to help me rise. I glanced around the room, taking in the clay walls and the simple furnishings, the kettle over the fire and the smoke hole in the ceiling. I'd never been to an avian home, and I'd never felt more out of place, used to gilt moldings, ornate carvings, and mural-covered walls. Our lives couldn’t have been more different, but in one simple way we were the same—magic.
"Forbidden?" I finally asked, turning back to him.
"My kind aren’t allowed to possess magic."
"Allowed?" I wrinkled my nose, shaking my head. "But I thought you couldn't?"
"We're born the same as you," he offered, a new spark igniting in his eyes, taking me in as though seeing me anew. "It's your father who gives us wings, but other than that, we're no different. I assure you, we have magic. The only difference is that for us, it's a death sentence."
"You mean…" My voice caught and I turned toward his mother. I'm not sure why. She would never pick my side against her son’s, and she stared at me with hard, unbending eyes. "Surely they wouldn't…"
I couldn’t even finish the sentence. My father would. Bastiant too. Any aethi'kine would do whatever was necessary to keep their kingdom and their power, to maintain the balance. Avians are already stronger than us, better fighters, faster and more agile. If they had magic too—if one of them was ever born with aethi'kine power—they wouldn't need mages like my father any longer.
The truth dropped like a weight inside my chest, making me stumble. How many deaths? How many lives? Of what other horrors had I been ignorant? Worse, what did they think of me? A princess in her palace, spending her days bent over a journal, reaping the benefits of her station and foolish enough to think they didn't come at dire costs? Even now, my stomach rolls with nausea. What other secrets has my father kept from me?
A pounding at the door broke the silence.
All three of us jumped, even Zavier.
And then a deep voice called, "Zavi, let me in."
With a curse, he opened the door to reveal Mikhail's furious face. The dove spared a moment to cast a disgusted look at me before closing in on his friend. "How could you be so foolish? You did, didn't you? In the palace? With the princess? There's no other way you could've beaten me here."
"I did."
Mikhail lifted his hands, his fingers curling into fists. His arms hovered as though he was unsure whether to punch his friend or pull him close.
"I won't tell."
I meant to sound strong, but the words came out weak as all three avians in the room turned toward me, their wings making them seem so large and imposing. My own petite frame had never felt so small.
I tried again.
"I promise you, all of you, I won't tell a soul. Your secret is safe with me."
They didn’t believe me, which was fine. I understood. But I made the promise to myself as much as to them, and I knew deep in my heart that I would never break it.
"We have to get her back to the palace before they come looking," Mikhail said. "All three of us fled through the window for safety and then we brought her to her rooms to wait for the battle to end. I went there before coming here, and they're empty. The halls were clear. I don't think anyone will come for a while—"
"My bedroom," I cut in, u
nderstanding what he was hinting at. "The curtains were shut when I left, and no one will be in there at this hour."
Zavier nodded, a frown curving his lips. But still, he lifted his palms and a white glow pulsed from his fingers. Mikhail and his mother didn't notice, but I did. I could see his power, and as our eyes met above the glittering haze of the forming rift, I hoped he understood I found it beautiful. A tear cut through the room, just like the one that had formed behind my father, but in the center of this one were familiar embroidered silks and my ornate four-poster bed.
"Let me go first, just in case," I said, then stepped through.
The room was empty. Zavier and Mikhail followed, and then he closed the rift. An awkward silence filled the air.
"I'll guard the door," Mikhail said, leaving us alone.
We tried to speak at the same time.
"I won't—"
"I'm sorry—"
I laughed softly, surprised to find the hint of a smile gracing his lips. He inclined his head.
"I won't tell anyone," I said, finishing the sentence this time. "I promise. And I don't know why you're apologizing, but please don't. You saved my life at great risk to your own, and I'll be forever in your debt. I know you have no reason to trust me, but no one will learn of your magic from me. I swear it."
"Thank you, Princess."
I nearly sighed upon hearing my title—not that again—but there was something different in the tone, in the way the word rolled through his lips, no longer empty, but full of something I don’t yet know how to place. All I know is it brought a flush to my cheeks.
He turned to leave, but I had one question left to ask.
"Why your house?"
He paused and glanced over his shoulder, those piercing eyes finding mine just above the curve of his wing. "It was the only place I knew would be safe."
Safe for him, I realized, not for me.
Safe from prying eyes.
Safe from discovery.
"Good night, Soldier Zavier."
"Good night, Princess."
He left, but it would be a lie to say I slept. I couldn't. Not with the day's events spinning circles around my mind. I threw open the curtains and watched the sky shift from deep midnight to soft lavender to vibrant pink to clearest blue. It was a beautiful day, but it would bring nothing but terrible news.
One of Bastiant's advisors fetched me from my room and brought me to the throne room, where my future husband sat on his newly acquired perch. I'm too tired to write of all the details now, so I'll just say this: My father is gone, banished to some barren wasteland from which there will be no return. Bastiant has laid claim to the kingdom and has already placed the crown upon his head. We're to be wed to quiet any naysayers, and the ceremony will take place in one moon cycle, giving the royal families across the peninsula enough time to send witnesses.
I'm going to be queen far earlier than I ever imagined, and though I've been naive, I refuse to live in ignorance any longer. My father has been hiding things from me—but my father is no longer here. It's time I learn the truth about the kingdom I was born to rule, and all the people housed within it. It's time I pay attention to the world outside my window, instead of the one inside my head.
* * *
First Day of the Fifth Moon
* * *
As it turns out, information is not so easy to come by—at least for a woman in a position of power whom so many people have a vested interest in silencing. Bastiant doesn’t want me to have a voice, just as my father didn’t. He doesn’t want a partner. He wants a puppet, something I've vowed to never be. So my quest has been slow, but not altogether unfruitful.
I started with my father's advisors, going down the line one by one, but they're weak and afraid. My father was hardly gone a day, and already they’d fallen over themselves, bowing to their new king, hoping not to lose their lofty place in the kingdom. One thing I will say for Bastiant—I believe he was as disgusted with the display as I was. So, while I got small bits of information, it was nothing worth reporting.
After that I tried to be subtler, speaking casually to my maids as they dressed me in the morning, but they were also too afraid to speak, though I don't blame them. I went to speak to some of my old tutors, but the answers they gave were the same from my youth, too polished to be real. So I tried the cooks, the groundsmen, the soldiers, but none would talk to their princess. Never had I wanted to throw open the palace gates more, to run through the streets and beg for a willing ear, to shed these skirts and this crown and escape for a few hours. But my home is as much a prison as a palace, and I gave up dreams of sneaking beyond its walls long ago.
Then, an idea struck—Zavier.
I'm not sure why I didn’t think of him before, perhaps my own girlish nervousness about getting too close, perhaps my fears about not wanting him to get hurt. The less involved he was, the safer he and his secret would be. But that should be his choice, right? He'd spoken to me freely before, why not again? Especially if I made it worth his while…
Which is how I got to the library.
My father's collection holds endless tomes on magic, so I pulled as many as I could, concentrating on those with mentions of spatio'kine magic, hoping any spying eyes would assume my sudden interest was fueled by my father's disappearance, though that was hardly the case. I'm sure wherever he is, it is as much as he deserved. Though sometimes I do wonder if the death I saw for him is the one he'll soon find. The idea makes me sadder than I thought it would.
But I digress.
Dinners have been canceled until the banquet hall is repaired. Bastiant is too busy building his new kingdom and shows little concern for his queen. I'm just as happy to eat in my rooms, especially when Zavier brings me my meal, as he did tonight.
I daresay I cornered him when he walked into the room. The poor man had no chance! Before he even set the tray on the table, I was on my feet, nerves racing as I leapt across the room to close the distance.
"Soldier Zavier?"
"Yes, Princess?"
I could sense the wary edge of his tone as his gaze swept quickly across my face, then dropped back to the floor. It wasn't proper for him to meet my eyes, especially not when we were alone in my rooms. It definitely wasn't proper for me to take his hand, but I did so anyway.
"I have a proposition for you."
He arched a brow but said nothing. It took a moment for the full implications of my words to land, and when they did, I just know my face flamed red, but I pressed on.
"What you told me the other day, about certain things being forbidden—I had no idea. But I'm to be queen soon, and ignorance is no longer an excuse. I want to know what truly goes on in my own kingdom. I need to. And I've tried all week to search for answers, but no one will tell me. No one except you."
He licked his lips, swallowing once in an agonizingly slow way that drew my gaze to his throat, a bit of heat pooling in my stomach as his muscles clenched. I glanced back at his face before my focus failed me.
"I would like you to tell me the truth of what happens outside these walls, no matter how ugly, and in return, if you're interested, I thought I might try to teach you about your magic."
His eyes found mine then, though not another inch of him moved.
"My magic works differently than most, but I've still been trained by the best mages in the kingdom. I know their rules and their lessons. I can show you. And I brought books so that we might learn about your magic together. What you did the other day was impressive, and I imagine what little you've learned has been in secret midnight sessions huddled in the quiet of your own rooms. But there is so much more you could accomplish given the chance. I want to give you that chance."
He stared at me for I don't know how long. Our breath mingled in the silence. Outside my window, the breeze rustled through the trees, muffled voices spoke, life continued—but inside, time stood still. My magic prickled, not with a vision, but as it did sometimes in important moments, ones that balance
on a precipice, whose outcome might change everything.
A knock broke the moment, curt and demanding.
We flinched apart.
Zavier dipped into a deep bow as the door swung open to reveal one of Bastiant's advisors, no doubt bringing with him a long list of my future husband's demands for our wedding ceremony.
"Thank you, Soldier Zavier. That will be all," I said with a bored voice as I turned to the advisor. "Am I to be given no moment's peace? My dinner just arrived, and I'd like to eat it before it grows cold. What does the king want?"
Zavier left.
My heart went with him.
I was hollow as I ate my food, not tasting a single bite. Hopefully, tomorrow he will give me an answer, a sign. If I believed in gods, I would pray to them that he would.
* * *
Second Day of the Fifth Moon
* * *
A note sat crumpled with my breakfast when I woke to find it already laid out in my sitting rooms. It was only two words long. "I'm in."
* * *
Twelfth Day of the Fifth Moon
* * *
Ten days have passed, and my, what days they've been. I haven't had time to breathe, let alone write in my journal, though I've missed these few peaceful moments to myself. As the wedding plans race ahead, I'm pulled into fittings and meetings. Bastiant doesn't seem to care as long as his power is on full display, so naturally, the burden of the decisions has fallen on me, as though ceremonies and flower arrangements and dining options and dressing gowns are all a queen is good for! But I play along and do my part, at least during the day.
At night, I've begun a little rebellion of my own.
Zavier has slipped into my rooms every evening while the rest of the castle sleeps, and in the darkness of my bedroom, behind my closed curtains, we do all sorts of forbidden things. Not quite the ones I'm truly looking forward to, though I have more hope than ever that eventually the moment in my vision will come to pass, but with each day we grow closer.
The Dragon and the Queen (The Raven and the Dove Book 3) Page 21