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

by Kaitlyn Davis

  I've learned more than I ever imagined about the avian culture, and the many ways my own kind work to suppress it. As he told me before, avians with magic are prone to disappearing as soon as their powers make themselves known, but it is so much worse than that. Everything from where they live, to whom they marry, to what jobs they get must be carefully approved by the royal household, and if they step a toe out of line, the threat doesn't fall on them, but on their future children—children who depend on the king's magic for their wings.

  Their villages aren’t broken up by species for no reason—Zavier says it's a way to keep them separated. Doves can only mate with doves, owls with owls, ravens with ravens. They work in different fields as another method of division, which is why it's so rare for an eagle and a dove to be paired as Zavier and Mikhail are. He says it’s because there are far more avians than there are powerful mages, so it’s in the king's best interests to keep them from joining forces.

  I never thought about it like that before.

  I just assumed, perhaps as most do, that they preferred to live that way, apart and with their own kind. I'm embarrassed to say I never put much thought into it, or into why they always worked very specified jobs.

  I should have, but at least I'm doing all I can now to open my eyes, just as Zavier is doing all he can to learn his magic. Rift magic is so much more than I ever realized. Untrained as he is, Zavier has limited range and limited strength but with every day and every session his power is growing. We've read of the things his magic can do, and I see the eagerness in his eyes to try them—to carve doorways to the other kingdoms, to create portals to new worlds, to master single-way windows meant for spying. We're a long way from those endeavors, I fear, but maybe someday. His power works through anchors, so it helps to know someone on the other side or have seen it before or have some sense of the space to grasp. Right now, we focus just between my room and his on the other side of the castle walls, enough distance to hold meaning, but both safe. I'm trying to think of other places we might try, but what if we're seen?

  I'll wait for him to say the risk is worth it.

  Until then, I'm content with our heads bent over my books, his body so close I can feel his warmth. Sometimes our knees brush, and a thrill shoots through me. Sometimes it's our fingers, pointing for the same sentence on a page. Sometimes it's just our eyes that meet, and though it's not a physical caress, I feel those glances the most, burning deep inside of me.

  I'm beginning to think he feels them too.

  * * *

  Twenty-Second Day of the Fifth Moon

  * * *

  Another ten days gone in a blink, much the same to report as the last. Wedding by day, rebellion by night. Zavier tells me more about the kingdom I didn't know before. Avians are not allowed to learn to read, though some (such as his mother) have carried on the practice in private, teaching their young. Avians are not supposed to believe in anything but magic and the all-powerful aether, as we mages believe, but they have an entire system of gods they honor behind closed doors. They are not supposed to communicate with the others of their kind, but they've created secret messages through wing shapes and movement across the skies that no mages could hope to understand.

  He doesn’t know much about life in the other parts of the kingdom, though he tells me, from what he's heard, the hierarchy of magic isn’t kind to those with little power, or worse yet, none at all. I've known this, of course, in theory. Powerful mages get the biggest households, the most servants, the most prestige, but I always thought my father took care of the rest. But there are sectors of the city that grow hungry and weak, and with fields tended by agro'kine magic yielding unending crops, for that there is no excuse.

  I asked him what he once thought of me, and he grew quiet.

  "That I was a spoiled princess, no doubt," I teased, laughter in my voice, though it didn’t quite cover the hurt. Not at his thoughts, but that they were true. "Up here in my palace, uncaring of the horrors the outside world faced."

  He placed his palm over mine and squeezed gently. "It wasn't true."

  "Wasn't it?"

  I met his eyes as he rubbed his thumb across my skin, making me shiver. We were close, our faces no more than a few inches apart, close enough I could just feel the brush of his breath on my cheek. He tilted his head to the side, moving our lips closer in the process, but he didn’t drop my gaze. The golden speckles in his eyes brightened, the green depths shifting wider as though opening to let me in. There was no judgment and no anger, only sympathy.

  "I admit, I thought that, yes," he said slowly. "But just as you had no knowledge of what happened in my home, I had no knowledge of what happened in yours. The palace has thick walls, not just to keep enemies out but to keep its secrets in. And there are things that happen here, Princess, things I've seen happen to you that would make even your enemies shudder."

  I thought of my soon-to-be husband.

  There was no telling what he would unleash on me once the ceremony was through, though I tried not to think on that too often, and especially not in moments like these, with Zavier close and the rest of the world so far away.

  He seemed to sense my shift.

  We pulled apart. I didn’t want to think of Bastiant with Zavier's hand upon me—it felt wrong. Not to my future husband, but to this gentle man who didn’t deserve to share space in my thoughts with that monster.

  Only six days until my wedding.

  Six days.

  What would my mother say if she were here?

  I guess I'll never know.

  * * *

  Twenty-Fifth Day of the Fifth Moon

  * * *

  As I look out my window, the first of the bannermen are approaching the castle walls. All along the main streets, colorful fabrics fly, the symbols of all the kingdoms, their most powerful mages coming to bear witness to the end of my youth, the end of my freedom, but not the end of my life. I'll find a way to power through.

  Tomorrow, the festivities begin.

  On the twenty-eighth, I'll be wed.

  After that, who knows? But I'll find a way to keep meeting with Zavier. No matter what, I won't let him go, not when he and our time together are the only things that have ever been mine.

  We—

  I've just had a vision while looking out my window. The same one from so many weeks before, with orange lighting the skies, only now I realize it wasn't a blood dawn. It was fire.

  My kingdom is going to burn.

  When and how, I have no idea, but even as the scene fades from my eyes, replaced with fluffy clouds and endless blue, I see the flames. They were thick, spitting ash into the sky, and angry, as though with a spirit of their own, swallowing the city whole. There were no avians in the skies, but there was something else—some sort of beast I didn’t recognize, sifting like a shadow through the haze, as monstrous as it was graceful, too far away for my eyes to clearly see. I have to know what it was. Somehow, I need to see.

  The vision was clearer this time, which means we're moving closer to this future. How do I stop it? How can I? And the more nagging question—do I want to?

  29

  Xander

  The sun was nearly at its peak by the time Lyana finally arrived at the raven camp. The sound of shouts and cheers lured Xander from the royal tent just in time to see her white wings flash against the tree line before she disappeared into the crowd. The knot in his chest loosened, all the worry he’d been trying to ignore draining away in an instant.

  She was all right.

  She was alive.

  Though he wanted to rush across the camp and bombard her with questions, he remained where he was, waiting patiently for her to reach him. Kings needed to be confident. The last thing he wanted to reveal was the doubts plaguing him all night, keeping him awake—the fear that she might not return. When she approached the royal tent, he took the hand she offered and kissed the tops of her fingers before leading her inside.

  The moment the tent flap
closed, he dropped her hand and spun. “What happened?”

  “I was going to ask you the same thing.” She grinned and stepped past him toward the basin of water in the corner. Her leathers were covered in blood, though he knew by her gait none of it was her own. “What did Queen Zara say?”

  “She agreed to send letters to the remaining houses,” he said, turning his back to give her privacy. “When she reaches Sphaira, she vows to take our cause directly to your parents. Once they’re on our side, the other royals will have to listen.”

  “They’ll be on our side,” Lyana said, utterly sure in a way he almost envied. Her voice grew muffled by clothes as she changed behind him. “I’m their daughter. My father, especially, has never been able to tell me no. And Luka has been speaking to them. They were already on the verge of making a proclamation on our behalf, but now, with Queen Zara’s support, I’ve no doubt they will.”

  “Good.” He nodded, mulling over the information for a moment. “So, what happened in the sacred nest?”

  “Exactly what we feared.” She sighed, the sound drowned out by the splashing of water. “I was powerless, Xander, absolutely powerless. The rift broke. The creature hatched. My magic couldn’t touch either of them. I wouldn’t have made it out alive if not for—”

  She broke off suddenly.

  He knitted his brows. “If not for what?”

  “If not for Rafe.”

  “What?” He turned before he could stop himself, propelled by surprise, then promptly covered his eyes with his arm, finding her in her underclothes. Once, the sight might have brought a blush to his cheeks or made his heart drum. Now he just felt uncomfortable. “Sorry, I just— What do you mean, Rafe?”

  “There’s something I haven’t told you,” she said, not at all bothered by his intrusion. Clothes ruffled in the silence. He waited a few moments before peeking through his fingers, relieved to find her in trousers and a fresh shirt. “Something I should have told you right away, but I was too afraid of how you’d react when we’d only just started learning to work together again. I realize now that wasn’t fair of me, to you or to him, and I’m sorry, but I just didn’t know how to tell you or what to say…”

  The longer she rambled, the quicker his pulse raced. Fear lit his veins, sharp and acute, something he wasn’t used to feeling when it came to Rafe—his warrior brother always ready with a smile, untouchable, especially with his healing magic.

  “Lyana, what is it?”

  “Rafe is a dragon.”

  A claw seemed to clutch his throat, cutting off air, and then a moment later laughter full of relief and denial spilled through his lips. “The gods, don’t tell me you believe that nonsense, too? I’ve been dealing with these rumors my entire life, and I can assure you, Rafe—”

  “No, Xander, listen to me,” she cut in, her voice so deadly serious he stopped cold. “You know how we’re all taken to the sacred nest as children to get our wings? It’s not a gift from the gods. It’s magic, somehow wielded by the rift spell, but the same power runs in my veins. It’s called soul joining, and birds aren’t the only creatures we can be united with. Malek has the same magic as me, and he—he soul-joined Rafe with a dragon.”

  “I don’t—” Xander stumbled as his knees went weak. “He can’t—”

  “It’s true,” she murmured, those intense eyes studying him, her face puckered with concern. “His wings are made of fire. His spirit burns. He’s the same man he’s always been, but he’s no longer a raven. At least, not visibly.”

  “Rafe. Oh, Rafe.”

  Xander collapsed on his desk chair, all his muscles giving out as a lifetime of memories flashed before his eyes—wrestling with his brother as children, spending countless nights talking in his rooms, exploring the isle, playing games in the castle halls, every moment of his youth made brighter by the presence of his sibling. Then the other memories came—classmates teasing, people whispering, the looks, the gossip.

  Fire cursed.

  Bastard.

  Son of Vesevios.

  Xander remembered how the names struck like knives, carving wounds his brother tried to hide, but how could he? No one deserved what Rafe had grown up hearing. No one deserved to be an outcast among his own kind, hated and reviled through no fault of his own. Despite it all, he’d been loyal to his house and his people. He’d won them a queen. He’d done anything Xander ever asked of him. He’d sacrificed everything.

  And I banished him.

  I banished him and led him to this fate.

  Xander raised his fist to his lips to stop the sob from spilling out, a plug forming in the back of his throat as his eyes burned.

  Taetanos, help me.

  What was Rafe thinking right now? What was he feeling? His worst fears had come to life. His every horrible thought had been confirmed.

  It wasn’t true.

  He had to know it wasn’t true.

  Xander didn’t care what wings his brother possessed or who shared his soul. Though Rafe had spent his life pushing people away, trying not to let them see, Xander knew exactly who he was—noble and kind, softhearted despite his walls, a hero. His hero. A man he’d been able to rely on, and lean on, and admire, not just for his physical strength but for his heart too.

  “I have to see him,” Xander murmured, the decision shooting through him like lightning as soon as it was spoken, prompting him to his feet. “I have to see him. I have to speak to him. I have to tell him I don’t care—I don’t care about any of it.”

  “Xander.”

  “No, Lyana. He thinks I hate him. You don’t know. You weren’t there. He left, and I let him, and now, now… Where is he? Please, where is he?”

  She grabbed him by the shoulders, drawing him back to the world. His chest heaved. His breath came in wild spurts. The room spun, everything aside from her face swirling about him as his thoughts whirled.

  “Xander, listen to me,” she commanded, staring at him hard. “You need to stay here. I need you to stay here, because I’m leaving.”

  “What?”

  “I’m leaving,” she repeated, more softly this time. “The creatures saw what I am, and though I got away last night, they’ll be back. I don’t know how to fight them, but Rafe does. He’ll protect me. And though I would love nothing more than for him to come to us, we both know that with his wings, that’s not possible. It’ll undermine everything we’ve fought to achieve. So I need to go to him, and you need to stay here to carry out the rest of our mission with the remaining houses.”

  “But what will I say? How will I explain?”

  Those weren’t the real questions he wanted to ask. Lyana had the magic. Lyana was the queen of prophecy. Lyana was the storm. How would he do this without her?

  “Tell them the gods called me back. Tell them I went somewhere private to pray. You’re better with stories than me, Xander. I’m sure you’ll come up with something. I believe in you, and there’s no other way. I think—” She paused, biting her lower lip as she dropped her hands from his shoulders. The edges of her lips curved, revealing the smile she was trying to hide. When she spoke, her voice held awe. “I think Rafe might be the King Born in Fire, so I have no choice but to go to him.”

  “You think Rafe…”

  His voice faded as the information sank in. His brother, the King Born in Fire. His brother, the hero of prophecy. His brother, the savior of worlds.

  The description fit.

  For their whole lives, he’d had the sense that Rafe had been destined for something more—more than rejection, more than a life in his shadow, more than a sword, and an empty practice yard, and simply getting by. He’d always been a warrior, and now, maybe, the world would see it too.

  “Go to him,” Xander murmured, giving the blessing he hadn’t been able to give before. Lyana and Rafe had been drawn together, time and time again, through fate, through love, through choice, perhaps through a mix of all three, but one thing was clear—he would no longer stand between them. “Go to him, L
yana, and when you do, please give him this.”

  He slid the dagger at his waistband free, then balanced the blade on his palm as he held it out to her. The hilt was carved to resemble a raven in flight, two wings unfurled, while at its base rested a polished obsidian stone. It was a gift from his father, and its twin now lay at the base of the sea, lost forever, but their meaning endured. Once upon a time, he and Rafe had made a promise to each other, a promise to always remember what it meant to be brothers, to be blood, to be bound by a trust so deep it could never be broken. Their father had been a man of many mistakes, but instilling that lesson had been his greatest success.

  They’d forgotten that promise.

  Now Xander intended to see it through.

  Lyana took the dagger and tested the balance before finding his face, a question in her gaze. She knew there was more to this request, but it was a matter between brothers, and it would stay that way.

  “Rafe will know what it means,” he said instead, pushing away the memories. “But you can tell him I love him, and I’m sorry, and as far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing left to forgive.”

  “I will.” She curled her fingers around the hilt and tucked the blade safely at her side. “I’m going to ask Cassi to act as our go-between, but in case you need me for any reason, I’ll be at the raven guest quarters in the House of Peace. And I’m taking my mages with me. There are people there who can help them learn their magic—people with far more experience than me.”

  A lopsided grin pulled at his cheek. “The raven guest quarters?”

  “I figured they were available.” She shrugged, a spark lighting her green eyes. “Besides, where else would the Queen of the House of Whispers stay?”

  “Our people will miss you.”

  “They won’t,” she answered softly as she took his hand and gently squeezed his fingers. “They’ve always had exactly what they needed. They’ve always had you.”