A shout rang from an upper terrace.
A blurred figure hurtled through the foliage.
A gleam of silver brightened the sky.
Don’t move, Xander thought. Don’t move.
The unnamed hummingbird barreled toward him, the deadly intent in the attack obvious. But Xander was king of a foreign house. They might not welcome him, and they might not agree with him, but they wouldn’t murder him. At least, he hoped not. Still, as his heart hammered in his chest, he couldn’t deny that just this once it would have been nice to have a little of Lyana’s impossible power, no matter how many times he’d preached for her to show restraint.
Don’t move.
The hum of air through feathers and the ring of steel filled his ears, then silence. Xander didn’t flinch. He simply swallowed, the skin of his throat grazing the edge of a blade as he stared into a furious face he recognized from the trials.
“Good morning, Prince Damien,” he said, as nonchalantly as possible.
The prince sneered, his olive skin wrinkling as his iridescent violet wings ruffled. “What? No raven cry this time?”
Unfortunately not, Xander thought, fighting to keep his face blank as he struggled to recall everything Rafe had once told him of the prince. They’d fought during the trials, as all the heirs had. There had been some altercation during hand-to-hand combat, and he’d been dishonored during the welcome ball when Rafe interrupted his dance with Lyana. They’d never liked each other. All Xander remembered thinking at the time was that they sounded too similar for their own good. How would he play this if it were Rafe on the other side, throwing a tantrum?
He’d disengage.
Nothing would have infuriated his brother more.
“I didn’t come to fight,” Xander offered, keeping his tone even. “I came to speak to you and your family about the devastation about to befall your house. I came to help.”
“We don’t need help from a mage-lover like you,” Prince Damien spat.
Before Xander could respond, the prince kicked him in the chest. He stumbled back but managed to keep to his feet. The hummingbird disappeared in a flash, moving too fast for normal eyes, and then hands shoved him from behind. Xander fell forward, dropping to his knees.
“Not so tough without your queen around to fight your battles,” the prince accused, loud enough for all those gathered to hear.
“I believe a battle requires an opponent,” Xander said as he returned to his feet, brushing off his clothes. “And as I said before, I have no intention of fighting with you today.”
The prince punched him in the stomach, and he doubled over with a groan. A fist slammed into his chest, and he flew back up. The swiping of legs left him on his ass.
“When I heard you lost your hand, I didn’t think you’d also lost your spirit,” the prince mocked, a low blow Xander should have expected. Even after a lifetime of similar jabs, it still stung. “What happened to the great warrior prince of the House of Whispers?”
“I grew up,” Xander answered, unable to keep the simmering anger wholly from his tone. “Perhaps you should try it.”
With a low growl, the prince grabbed Xander by the wrist and spun him so his wings slammed into the hummingbird’s chest while his good hand twisted painfully behind his back. Prince Damien held a dagger to his throat, the point pinching his skin. “You cavort with mages, which is still punishable by death in the House of Flight. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t cut you right now.”
“I’ll give you three,” Xander answered, his voice deathly calm. “One, your isle is going to fall whether you wish it or not, and I have the experience to ensure as many lives are saved as possible. Two, the gods are on my side, and if you murder me, I have no doubt retribution against your house will be swift. And three…” He paused to pointedly eye the guard around his right forearm, which he’d raised to his chest. As Cassi had so aptly predicted all those weeks ago, the prince hadn’t bothered securing the limb he naively believed posed no risk. Now, he tensed upon noticing the sharp point hidden in the shadows of the metal. “The moment I turn my wrist, a blade will spring free, striking you in the throat. So if you want to kill me, kill me, but my blood won’t be the only blood spilled today. The choice is yours. As I said before, I didn’t come to fight.”
Palm trees swayed on the palace verandas. Wings speedily beat. The waterfalls crashed. But the prince didn’t move. The moment stretched, becoming two, then three. Bowstrings whined, pulled taut. Not a single arrow was loosed.
Xander had him.
They all knew it.
Still, they might have waited like that all day, the prince’s pride too great to suffer such a wound, if two more figures hadn’t shot from the palace terraces, descending in a whoosh of feathers and fine silks. The king landed first, his turquoise hummingbird wings carrying him faster to the fray. The queen, formerly of the House of Paradise, followed gracefully behind.
“King Axos, Queen Odehlia,” Xander murmured cordially, as though their heir didn’t have a blade pressed to his jugular. “So kind of you to join us. The prince and I were just getting reacquainted.”
The king frowned and flicked his wrist. In a flash, the guards lining the courtyard vanished. Then he eyed his son. After a reluctant pause, the prince released Xander. They disentangled, each taking a moment to straighten his jacket.
“Tell me, King Lysander, what brings you to our home?” His voice was wary, the look in his dark eyes unsure. “We didn’t send for you.”
“No, you didn’t, which is why if you ask me to leave right now, I’ll go. But I believe that would be a mistake. I know relations are strained between our two houses, and my actions at the courtship trials are partially to blame for that, but I urge you to put the past behind us. Not for me. Not for you. But for your people. Change is coming. All I want to do is help.”
“And where is Queen Lyana?” The king searched the clouds.
“The queen has been summoned by the gods, and though she wanted to be here, it was a call she couldn’t afford to ignore.”
“That’s rather convenient.”
“If you want proof of her power, write to King Dominic or Queen Zara, and they will tell you what they’ve witnessed. I didn’t come to intimidate or boast. I came simply as I am to humbly offer aid.”
The king and queen started, as though noticing for the first time that no other ravens filled the skies or the courtyard. He’d come alone. The tension in their stances softened.
“Queen Zara speaks highly of you,” the king said, not a question, though it lingered just the same.
“As I always will of her, should anyone ask.”
“You seem changed.”
Gods alive. It took everything within him not to laugh. Rafe had certainly left an impression on people during his short stint at the trials, none of it very good. King Axos was now the second ruler to notice Xander’s newfound composure. “You could say I’m a new man.”
“We shall see.” The king motioned behind him and a servant emerged from the palace carrying a tray full of glasses bubbling with hummingbird nectar. It was a wonder nothing spilled. “In the meantime, my son will show you the hospitality he failed to offer upon your arrival. Eurythes is god of the harvest, and we’d be remiss not to offer nourishment after your long journey. Take the afternoon to recover, then join us for dinner this evening and we’ll listen to what you have to say.”
The king and queen retreated into the palace as Prince Damien grabbed a drink and knocked his head back, downing the contents in one swallow.
“I should think you’d be thanking me,” Xander murmured, drawing the prince’s attention.
“For what?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Xander grinned, silently praying Lyana would forgive him for his next words. As he’d said, hummingbirds were quick to anger and even quicker to forget. Well, they’d done the fury portion. It was time to move on to forgiveness. “Had you matched with Lyana at the trials, you’d be her erran
t messenger boy instead of me.”
A soft puff of air verging on laughter escaped the prince’s lips. He took two more glasses from the tray and offered one to Xander, eying him as though aware of the aches already beginning to percolate. “It will help numb the pain.”
Xander stifled his grimace. By nightfall, purple blotches would mark his skin, thanks to the prince. It wasn’t an apology for the attack. Still, though, it was something. He took the nectar and brought it to his lips. The liquid burned on its way down, the local version quite a bit stronger than the drink he was familiar with, and he coughed.
“Not what you’re used to?”
“Not exactly,” Xander managed to say, his voice strained.
“Well, then, King Lysander.” Prince Damien clinked his glass, a dimple digging into his cheek as his lips curved in an impish smile. “Welcome to the House of Flight.”
34
Lyana
Deep in meditation, Lyana didn’t sense the spirit racing toward her room until the door slammed with a loud bang. She and Rafe opened their eyes at the same time, his blue irises mirroring her shock. They were sitting cross-legged with their knees touching. He’d been immersed in his mental connection to the dragons, and she’d been steeped in her magic trying to access the rift. The slight body contact helped to keep them grounded—he knew she was safe, and she knew he wasn’t doing anything heroically foolish.
“Wait!” an out-of-breath voice carried down the hall. “Wait! You can’t— I’m supposed to—” Brighty slammed into the doorframe, a frown twisting her features as her chest heaved. “Magic alive, you people are fast! I tried to stop her, but—”
“It’s all right,” Lyana murmured, shifting her focus to the woman who’d charged into her room. “Welcome, Helen.”
The raven started, forcibly pulling her gaze from where it had settled, on Rafe’s fiery wings, to offer a stiff bow. “My queen.” Within moments, her attention slid sideways again. Her voice was tight as, with a curt nod, she muttered, “Rafe.”
He sighed. “I suppose Xander warned you.”
“He did.”
“And yet?”
The captain of the guards swallowed, fighting for composure. “It’s a shock.”
Outwardly, Rafe maintained his walls, but Lyana sensed his spirit clench, fighting an all-too-familiar pain, one buried so deeply he might never root it out. She reached across their laps to take his hand, and his fingers immediately tightened around hers. Helen watched on, her expression inscrutable. The wariness in her heart, though, was palpable.
“What brings you, Helen?” Lyana asked as she eased to her feet, pulling Rafe with her even as he tried to wriggle his hand free. She wouldn’t let him run anymore. She was done hiding, and he had no reason to be ashamed. “Is Xander all right?”
“As far as I know, he’s fine. He sent me here while he traveled to the House of Flight. Alone.”
“The House of Flight?” Lyana scrunched her brows.
Beside her, Rafe tensed. “Alone?”
“It was his idea,” the captain said, her reluctance obvious. “I’m to meet him with a set of guards as soon as I leave here.”
“And where are those guards?” Lyana glanced quickly through the crystal wall, seeing nothing but frozen land stretched as far as the eye could see.
“Waiting in the House of Song for my return.”
She released a heavy breath. Only a handful of people knew about the mages stationed here in the outskirts of the House of Peace, and Lyana wanted to keep it that way. Her people were opening to change, but a magical training ground, especially one outfitted with teachers smuggled up from the world below, would have been a bridge too far. Even Helen’s discomfort was obvious.
“Have there been earthquakes?” she asked, turning back to the captain. “Why didn’t he send word? I told him to communicate through Cassi.”
“He waited, but she never came.”
“She never…” Lyana trailed off, lifting her hand to her chin as she thought back. When was the last time she’d spoken to Cassi? Surely, it hadn’t been that long. Yet her days in the House of Peace were a bit of a blur. Between the hours spent deep in her magic, and the brief breaks to monitor the progress of her army, and the lively dinners with the crew, and the quiet nights coaxing Rafe to sleep, time had passed more swiftly than she’d realized. Had Cassi visited her dreams at all in the past week?
No.
Unease made the hairs on the back of her neck rise. Lyana shuffled through her memories, back and back and back. When was the last time they’d met? It couldn’t have been before the House of Paradise fell, could it? Cassi would have come after that, if for no other reason than to make sure her queen was alive. She would have checked in, unless something—or someone—had stopped her.
“What’s wrong?” Rafe murmured, sensing her sudden fear.
“I have to find Captain Rokaro,” Lyana announced, her pulse spiking. “Now.”
“She’s—” Brighty dove out of the way as Lyana raced toward the door, half running and half flying through the opening. “Oh, for magic’s sake! Not again.”
The words were lost to the winds stirred by her wings as she propelled forward with urgent speed, leaving the featherless mage far behind. Rafe followed, and Helen too, the three of them emerging from the royal quarters within moments. The truth was, Lyana didn’t need help locating the older woman. A little spark of her magic was all she needed to sense the captain’s spirit through walls of rock and crystal. Everyone was in the training field on the other side of the grounds. With a leap, she flew up and over the domed buildings, then landed at a run across the open snow.
“Captain!”
At the sound of her voice, half the mages in the field froze—the members of her army. At the sight of Helen, water, fire, and dirt dropped out of the sky with a sudden whoosh. Panic saturated the air and their magic drained away, the sparkles at their fingertips fading. They’d been sighted using magic.
Lyana didn’t have time to soothe them. Instead, she marched to the single-winged hawk watching steadily with her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.
The gods, they look so much alike, Lyana thought, a pang in her chest. There was no denying Cassi was a liar and a traitor, but despite everything, Lyana needed her—not just as a spy, but also as a friend.
“When’s the last time you spoke to your daughter?”
The crew stopped dead the moment the question left her lips, their magic vanishing in the blink of an eye. As one, they turned to gape at their captain. For her part, the older woman just lifted her fingers to her forehead and smoothed out her frown lines with a sigh.
“Daughter?” Rafe spat. “Cassi is your daughter?”
“You didn’t know?” Lyana spun to face him. How could he not know? Their mannerisms, their expressions. They were so similar. Yet the realization filled his normally clear eyes with tumultuous storm clouds.
“You said you didn’t know anyone named Cassi,” he accused, stepping forward. “You said—”
“Kasiandra is the name I gave her,” the captain interjected in a tired tone. “And yes, she’s my daughter, so the lot of you can shut your mouths before the cold air freezes them open. I had a whole life of my own before I became your captain and got roped into all your messes. I don’t owe anyone any explanations, except maybe you…” She turned to Rafe. “I’ll only say this once, so listen good. I’m sorry. When you landed on my ship, I knew you’d need someone to trust, and I knew that would never be me or any of my crew if you learned the truth. Maybe I should have told you. Maybe I did the right thing. There’s no way to go back now, and everything else I ever told you was true. My king ordered me to catch a man falling from the sky, and that’s what I did. The fact that it was my daughter who pushed you over the edge changes nothing.”
“It changes something to me.”
“Be angry if you want to be.” Captain Rokaro shrugged, unfazed as the flames at Rafe’s back strengthened in response to his
fury. “Kasiandra is my daughter, and like me, she’s done what she needed to do to survive. I won’t fault her for it.”
Rafe stared at the woman, his fingers curling into fists. She stared right back, expression open and somewhat sad as the breeze ruffled the fabrics entwined with her hair, highlighting that only one side of her face was framed by feathers. Their standoff was interrupted by a voice cutting across the silence.
“All right, I’m here—finally. Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to fly away in the middle of a conversation?” Brighty huffed as she trudged across the field. Everyone turned toward her, prompting her to stop where she stood. An almost comedic look of uncertainty passed over her features. “What? Did I grow a second head or something? What’d I miss?”
“Captain has a daughter,” Archer offered casually.
Brighty started. “What?”
“And I think she’s the one who cut off Rafe’s wings,” Jolt added.
“What?” The photo’kine spun so fast she risked whiplash.
“And apparently she’s missing,” Pyro said.
“Magic alive, you arrive five minutes late to the party, and—” She broke off to push her fingertips into her temples as her entire face scrunched. “Is that everything?”
“I think that about sums it up,” Captain snapped, wiping the grins off all their faces. Lyana admired the woman’s ability to reprimand so many at once, and by using nothing more than subtle intonation. Cassi might have been her only blood relation, but it was clear the ship ran like a family, the crew her unruly children. One word from her and they all shrank back, chagrinned. Those icy eyes turned on Lyana, but she wasn’t afraid of reproach, because she, out of everyone here, was the only one who could feel the deep-rooted worry tangling the captain’s spirit into knots. “And to answer your question, I haven’t spoken to her in weeks. Why?”
The Dragon and the Queen (The Raven and the Dove Book 3) Page 25