Lyana’s heart dropped. “The House of Flight started experiencing earthquakes, and she didn’t come to tell me.”
The captain pursed her lips.
“I haven’t seen her since before the House of Paradise fell,” Lyana continued, her pulse growing more rapid as she spoke. “It’s not like her to go so long without communicating. I think—I think something’s happened.”
Captain Rokaro’s expression darkened. Neither of them spoke, but a name passed between them just the same.
Malek.
He had Cassi’s body. He had his aethi’kine magic. He was the only one in the world with the power to stop her spirit from reaching the world above.
“I’ll save her,” Lyana blurted.
“But the king—”
“Doesn’t scare me.” She took the older woman’s hands in her own and held them to her chest as soothing magic flooded from her palms. The captain tensed, as though unused to the comforting touch of another human being. “He didn’t kill her. He wouldn’t dare, not while I’m still breathing. This is a ploy, probably to get to me—”
“It’s working,” Rafe interjected.
“Maybe.” Lyana released the captain and turned to face him, hating the insecurity written in the tense clench of his teeth. “But I’m willing to take that chance.”
For Cassi.
For the world.
The truth was this moment had been unavoidable from the start. Another isle had fallen, and a third would soon, yet Lyana was no closer to figuring out the mystery of the rift. More of those creatures would be coming, and eventually Rafe wouldn’t be able to fight them off on his own. It didn’t matter who the king of prophecy was, not really. Rafe was her protector. Malek was her teacher. And she needed them both to survive.
“I’m going to Da’Kin.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“I know.” Lyana smiled and ran her fingers along the chiseled curve of Rafe’s jaw. Golden magic seeped beneath his skin and silver swirls rose to meet it as he sank into her touch, lifting his palm to cover hers. “It’s high time we face him together.”
35
Malek
“My liege!”
Malek looked up from his paperwork, annoyed by the interruption. There had been a slew of unexplainable deaths in recent weeks, in cities all across the seas, a puzzle that nagged to be solved. But if Viktor was here, it was important. His aero’kine knew better than to barge in unannounced. “What?”
“They’re here.”
No explanation was necessary. Malek dropped the report and stood. “Where?”
“Close,” Viktor replied. “I sensed something cutting through the mist at rapid speed, too small to be a dragon based on the winds, but Isaak could feel flames. We don’t have visual confirmation yet, but it’s them. It must be.”
“Alert Jacinta and Nyomi, and ready the rest of the mages. We’ll only have one shot at taking them by surprise. I want you to concentrate on the raven, as planned. I’ll wait here for Lyana alone.”
“Yes, my liege.”
“And Viktor?” His aero’kine stopped in the doorway, looking stoic the way he’d been taught. “Good work.”
The barest twitch of lips was the only clue Viktor approved of the praise, at least to the outside observer, but Malek felt the thrill pass through his spirit. By the time his mage was gone, the king was already halfway to his balcony. Magic glittered around his palms as he gripped the metal banister and searched the gray expanse of the sky.
Where are you?
He’d been waiting for this moment for days, ever since he’d received the report from his dormi’kine. Lyana had moved into the House of Peace with her mages. She and the raven were inseparable. They knew the rumors. They believed them. He’d almost let Cassi go then, but it wasn’t in his nature to admit defeat. Malek was the King Born in Fire. He knew it in his bones, and if she’d only just return to him, Lyana would see it too.
So he devised a plan to lure her back.
And now she was here.
A flash of white seized his breath. The trail of smoldering flames in her wake struck like a knife. His chest burned.
Come to me, he thought. Come back to me.
They were made for each other.
They were meant to be.
Two aethi’kines with the most powerful magic in the world. Two aethi’kines destined to heal the rift. Two aethi’kines able to understand each other in a way no one else ever could.
They were the saviors.
They were the chosen king and queen.
He retreated into his study and waited. Lyana arrived first, her ivory wings fluttering as she landed gently on his balcony—the space only big enough for one body. Already his dreary world felt brighter.
Come closer, he silently willed.
She listened, stepping cautiously into the room, her voice soft despite the hard emerald sheen in her gaze. “Malek.”
Now, he thought, and magic exploded across the skies.
36
Rafe
As Lyana disappeared into the castle, Rafe swooped to follow and landed hard on the stone balustrade. Something was wrong. Deep in his stomach, hunger panged. The air tasted of magic. A subtle prickle danced along his skin.
“Ly—”
A chain wrapped around his ankle, then pulled. The word died on his lips as he fell back, dropping out of the sky. Before he could speak or scream, he slammed into the cold waters of Da’Kin. Blue magic lit the dark depths. Liquid hands grabbed him from all sides, holding him down as he tried to swim. A strong current carried him deeper. White bubbles exploded from his wings as the fire and sea met in a wash of steam. He chased the pockets of air, dragging his hands and kicking his feet, searching for a way out.
A flash of green was his only warning as a plate of metal clamped around his mouth, molding to the curve of his chin as it wrapped around his skull—not meant to cut off air but sound. More chains plunged through the depths to secure his arms to his chest and his wings to his back. They wound him in a metal cocoon until every inch of his body was contained. Only then, with his chest burning, did his attackers finally let him up for air.
As soon as his face broke the surface, Rafe sucked a sharp breath through his nostrils. His coughs were caught by the muzzle, forcing him to swallow the water he spit up, the bile making his stomach turn. The ferro’kine deposited him on the rocks at the base of the castle, unmoved as he struggled against his binds. All the king’s top mages were there. He recognized them from the warehouse, his few short minutes in their presence permanently carved like a scar across his memories. The water mage with slicked-back hair and golden eyes. The fire mage with wrinkled olive skin and a deceptively kind smile. The air mage with a lanky frame who seemed more likely to get blown over by a stray breeze than to command one. The light mage with hair the color of fire and eyes the same opal sheen as Brighty’s, though not nearly as full of life. And of course, the metal mage with black hair and pale features as sharp as knives.
Rafe silently pleaded with them.
I’m not here to fight him. I’m not here to steal your prophecy. I’m not even here for the world. Please, I’m only here for her. To protect her. To keep her safe. Please, you have to release me.
They didn’t get it.
They didn’t understand.
They would soon.
Already, the two souls constantly alive in the back of his mind were racing closer. Craving gnawed at their insides, the pure instincts of a dragon. But fury simmered around the edges, undeniably human.
Rafe twisted his neck, fighting for one glance of the castle at his back. He thrashed on the rocks, unmindful of the jagged edges scraping his skin. Golden light emanated from the tallest spire, shining like a beacon through the fog, making his own longing surge. Aethi’kine power saturated the skies like the sweetest forbidden fruit, daring him to come and take a bite. That’s what they were coming for. That’s what they wanted.
“Lyana!” he t
ried to shout. “Lyana!”
Against the metal covering his lips, the name was little more than a muffled noise. The metal mage kicked him in the ribs.
“Quiet.”
He glared at the woman.
“Not so tough without his raven cry,” the water mage murmured, folding her arms across her chest as she tilted up her face. “How long does the king want us to wait?”
“Until we see the sign,” Viktor murmured, his gaze on the balcony overhead. “I don’t think he expected the fight to end so quickly.”
It’s not over, Rafe wanted to say. It hasn’t even begun.
His bond with the creatures strengthened as they neared, closing in on Da’Kin. He could feel their wings beating, their hearts racing, their stomachs pining. On some level, he felt the same as them, the dragon in his soul crying out for a taste of the magic pouring from the top spire, such blatant power. Yet the human inside him felt something else entirely—dread.
“Let me go!”
The mages paid him and his garbled nonsense no mind.
“They’re coming! They’re almost here! Let me go!”
Nothing.
What do I do? How do I get out of this?
Already the scene played through his mind, of the shadow beast tearing through the open window and grabbing Lyana by the throat to drink her magic in. The battle would be over quickly, and with it, the world. None of the mages around him would even understand until the golden light winked out, never to be seen again.
He fought to jerk his arms free of the chains, his entire body trembling against the rocks. But it was useless. The green magic still glittering along the chains was binding. There was no way to muscle his way out of this.
Think, Rafe. Think.
What could get past metal? The sheet covering his lips was thin, so if he could just break through to his raven cry, to his voice… But how?
Fire.
Not his wings—they didn’t burn hot enough—but there was another source of heat constantly churning deep inside his chest, one he’d been reluctant to use for the sheer monstrosity of it.
For Lyana, he would.
For the world.
Rafe sucked a long slow breath through his nose, letting his fury guide him. The volcanic pit deep inside spewed with repressed rage, ready to erupt. He didn’t fight it. All the frustration, all the loathing, all the ugly parts of himself he was too afraid to face he now allowed to barrel up his throat and boil over. For the first time, he understood why dragons roared as they spit flames. The shout careened up his throat and spilled through his lips as a bubbling inferno.
The mages ignored him.
Rafe pushed, breathing in and roaring out, again and again and again, until he felt the metal band covering his mouth waver.
Come on. Come on.
In the back of his mind, two souls raced closer. Through the bond, he saw Da’Kin emerge from the fog, the groaning wood and slapping water, the maze of streets all leading to one central location. The castle loomed against the rocks, the top spire shining as brilliantly as the sun.
They were nearly here.
Come on!
Rafe screamed. The metal broke open and fire exploded across the rocks, singeing the mages. As one, they spun.
“Light up the skies!” Rafe shouted. There was no time to use his raven cry to free himself from the chains. He stared at the photo’kine, struggling to remember the man’s name as he fueled every ounce of authority he could muster into his tone. “Kal! Light up the skies! Now!”
He didn’t know if it was the panic in his voice, the command in his tone, or Kal’s sheer instinct to follow an order, but white light cut through the mist and wrapped around the castle, chasing the shadows away.
A piercing howl sent a shiver down his spine. The mages whipped their faces toward the spot. A set of ebony wings beat helplessly within the glow, diving out of sight beyond the castle wall, back to the darkness.
“What was that?” The fire mage stepped forward, the blaze around his palm surging. “It’s too small to be a dragon, but I sense—”
“It’s like me,” Rafe cut in, struggling to speak through the mangled metal muzzle still covering his lips. The ferro’kine didn’t ease the binds, but the sheet covering his mouth peeled away, taking a layer of skin with it from where the melted metal had fused to his flesh. Rafe clenched his teeth against the pain, his magic already racing to heal the wounds.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“They’re half-dragon, like me.”
“They?”
“There’s a second, fueled by earth magic, somewhere close—”
Rafe cut off as the thunderous groan of splitting rock filled the air. Across the water, the wall collapsed in a heap of dust. Through the haze, the outline of dark green wings could only just be seen. Stones the size of men shot from the rubble, racing toward them.
“Viktor!”
A gust of wind blasted across the sky, blowing the boulders off course to crash against the cliffside. More came.
“Nyomi!”
Tendrils of water swerved like arms to swat the projectiles away, batting them down into the sea. The barrage continued. More of the wall collapsed. More rocks flew. The ground beneath them trembled as flecks of green magic soared across the distance.
“It’s going to tear the castle down!”
“We need the king—”
“No,” Rafe shouted, cutting the metal mage off. “Remember what happened on the ship? The king’s magic is useless in this fight. I’m the only one who can fight them. Let me go, now! Let me go or all is lost!”
Fissures formed in the flattened rock, spidering out. The quaking intensified. Rafe rolled from side to side, still wrapped in the chains, as he stared at the ferro’kine. A stone crashed against the cliff, the pieces ricocheting in every direction as it exploded into a dozen deadly shards. One struck the photo’kine. He dropped and darkness descended.
“Let me go—now!”
The chains snapped, falling away in an instant. Rafe leapt up, taking to the sky as the ground ripped to pieces beneath his feet. A steady stream of aethi’kine magic still poured from the balcony, interrupted by the briefest ebony blip as the creature swept inside. Rafe dove after it, closing his wings tight to his back as he sailed through the opening to land on the rug at a roll.
“Lyana!”
She and the king were too deep in their magic to hear. Behind her ivory wings, shadows rippled. Black claws slipped around her throat.
“No!”
Rafe threw the broken strip of chain in his hand. The razor-sharp edge flashed gold, the metal catching the glow of her power before vanishing into darkness.
37
Lyana
Nails scraped across her neck as a cry filled her ear, jolting her from the fight with Malek. Lyana emerged from the throes of her power as the world came back into sharp focus.
“Move!” Rafe shouted as he ran toward her. “Move!”
She dove to the side. He barreled past her and collided into a body with a smack. Flame and shadow rolled across the floor, claws and hands and wings and limbs merging into one. The shadow beast was here. Before she could help, golden power enveloped her, dragging her backward across the room. Magic sizzling at her fingertips, she turned and struck back.
“Malek!”
He was too far gone to listen. His spirit thrummed with a crazed energy she’d never felt before, as though all his careful control had fled, leaving him unhinged.
“Malek, this is not the way—”
“Promise me you’ll stay,” he demanded again, repeating himself for the third time since her arrival. “I’m the King Born in Fire. You’re the Queen Bred of Snow. We need to be together. We need to figure this out together. You can’t live up there with him. You have to stay with me.”
“I’m going to stay, Malek,” she said, not using her power to fight him but to break through to him. “And so is Rafe. And the three of us are going to—”<
br />
“No!”
His power pushed against her back and she stumbled forward, her focus no longer fully on the battle with Malek but half-consumed by the fight raging on the other side of the room. Rafe gripped the shadow beast by the shoulders. The creature dug its claws into him, blood pooling around the edges of its talons. They circled, their wings pumping as they fought, neither strong enough to break the other’s hold. The castle trembled. The earth shook. She didn’t need to see the magic to know it was the work of the second creature, attacking from somewhere nearby. Only the strongest geo’kine magic could make a foundation of solid rock shift so precariously.
“Malek, this is bigger than you and me. Can’t you see—”
“Nothing is bigger than you and me,” he urged. “Nothing is greater than our cause.”
“There are things you don’t know—”
“I know the world depends on us.”
“Malek, just listen!” she snapped. Her magic whipped across the room like a violent wind and smacked him in the cheek. Would he never learn to let others speak? Would he never understand that even the greatest king needed counsel? Would he never treat her as his equal?
“Lyana.” He said her name like a broken man. “Lyana, please.”
She wanted to throttle him. She wanted to comfort him.
A pain-filled grunt made her freeze. Rafe clutched his abdomen as blood spilled over his fingers. He wobbled on his feet, gritting his teeth before diving toward a spot of pure darkness. The shadow shifted, flitting away. Rafe fell to his knees. Lyana reached for the creature, but its soul burned. A yelp escaped her lips. In a blink, the creature disappeared, and one moment later, the golden magic filling the room winked out.
She spun. “Malek!”
It was too late. The creature clutched him by the throat, holding him so high his feet dangled two inches above the ground, his body thrashing. The dark eyes she’d so often seen stone-cold with control and full of storm clouds now flashed with the bright spark of something she never thought she’d see—fear. Power seeped from his spirit, sinking into the creature.
The Dragon and the Queen (The Raven and the Dove Book 3) Page 26