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

by Kaitlyn Davis

  “Rafe!” she called, her desperation acute. “Rafe!”

  He pushed off the ground, one hand clutching his stomach while the other reached for the sword across his back. His movements were sluggish, the gash in his side still gaping even as his silver magic raced to heal it. He stumbled forward unsteadily. There was no way he’d make it in time.

  What can I do?

  How can I fight it?

  A letter opener sat on the edge of the desk, the edge sharp and pointed. Lyana gripped the spirit of the metal and flung the makeshift weapon across the room. It embedded itself in the creature's wrist. A roar shook the air and the black claw loosened. Malek dropped to the ground. Lyana retreated a step as a black wave swallowed the light, one even the golden glow of her magic couldn’t penetrate. The walls and curtains and furniture disappeared, replaced with an abyss, as though she hovered in a starless night. Malek stood to her left and Rafe to her right, their spirits blazing in her mind’s eye. A third shifted too quickly to follow. She went dizzy trying to trace the movement.

  Fingers grabbed her braids and pulled. With a cry, she fell backward and landed hard on the ground. It was on her in an instant, sharp scales digging into her chest as the creature held her down with its knees. Claws snatched her wrists and the magic simmering at her fingertips dissolved into darkness. The beast drank in her magic, its spirit growing stronger and stronger with each passing moment. Her own muscles slackened. Her heartbeat slowed, as though her life force was draining into the beast along with her power.

  Rafe slammed into them from the side, the flames along his wings flashing before he and the creature were swallowed by shadow. Grunts and cries filled the void. Her arms trembled as she pushed herself to a seated position, searching the deep ebony for some hint of the battle raging nearby. Unable to see, she could do nothing to help.

  “Rafe!” she tried. “Rafe!”

  A bellowing roar made her flinch.

  Bright light flashed as the darkness receded. Rafe and the creature stood before the balcony, almost as though embracing. Both swayed, frozen in the moment. Lyana’s heart pounded as she searched Rafe’s body for a wound.

  Is he hurt?

  Is he injured?

  The beast stepped back, and the sharp edge of steel caught the soft light flooding in from the outside. Rafe yanked his arms away and the sword slid free, covered in thick ebony sludge. No longer propped up by the blade, the creature slouched and clutched its stomach, beating its wings to remain upright. Darkness flooded from the leathery appendages, like smoke from a fire, blotting out the sky. Two onyx eyes stared at Rafe for a prolonged moment. Then, with a leap, it fled into the mist. The ground fell still as the second creature raced after it.

  “They’re gone,” Rafe said with a relieved sigh. “For now.”

  “What are they?” Malek asked, his voice raspy. A red mark in the shape of a hand still colored the fair skin of his neck.

  “You should know.” Rafe sneered, his disgust evident. “After all, you almost turned me into one.”

  “They’re soul-joined? But how? I didn’t— You’re the only—”

  “The god stones,” Lyana supplied as she struggled to stand, her legs still weak from the creature’s brief but costly touch. Rafe came to her side immediately, wrapping his arm around her waist to help keep her upright. She leaned into his embrace. “The god stones are eggs. Whoever made the rift all those years ago somehow fused dragon eggs with human souls, and they’ve been maturing ever since, feeding off the power of the spell to strengthen their own magic. Every time a new one hatches, an isle falls. And that’s why I’m here—why we’re here. The world is running out of time.”

  Malek’s gaze dropped to where Rafe’s fingers dug into Lyana’s hip, a frown furrowing his brows. If anything, Rafe’s grip just tightened.

  Men.

  Lyana fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Look at me, Malek.”

  He did, and all his walls came down, leaving him exposed in a way he’d never been before. Right now, she wasn’t talking to a king. She was talking to the lost little boy who’d been forced to grow up too quickly, forced to shoulder a burden so heavy it would have crushed anyone else. She was talking to a man who, above all else, was afraid to be abandoned again, especially as the one truth he’d always maintained as his guiding light flickered with uncertainty.

  “I don’t care who the King Born in Fire is.”

  He flinched.

  “I don’t care because it doesn’t matter,” she said, softening her tone as she stepped forward, bringing Rafe with her until she was close enough to also take Malek’s hand. “The prophecy was written hundreds of years ago, yet you treat it as fact. Maybe one of you is the foretold king. Maybe neither of you are. We’ll never know for sure, and I refuse to let a handful of pretty words decide my fate any longer. I need you to teach me, Malek. And we need Rafe to protect us. That’s the only way to save the world. And despite everything, I know that’s all you’ve ever wanted—to fell the sky, and seal the rift, and rid the world of dragons.”

  A war raged in his spirit. He didn’t move or speak. He just stared at where her fingers entwined with his, pursing his lips as he fought to make sense of everything he’d ever believed and everything she’d told him. Just as he tightened his grip, the door to his study was flung open.

  “My liege—” Nyomi stopped short upon seeing the three of them so close.

  Malek ripped his hand from Lyana’s grasp and turned to his mage, the stoic mask of the king back in place. “What?”

  “Kal and Jacinta are injured. It’s bad—”

  “Where?”

  “The rocks at the base of the castle, near the dock. We didn’t want to move them.”

  “I’m on my way.” He took a step forward, golden magic already bursting to life around his palm, then paused to glance over his shoulder.

  “Go,” Lyana mouthed.

  A torn expression twisted his features. He turned back to his mage. “Take the queen to Kasiandra. Do exactly as she commands, even if it differs from my prior orders. Understood?”

  “Yes, my liege.”

  He left without another word, but Lyana heard the unspoken message. He’d extended a peace offering, and for now that was enough. They followed the water mage down into the underbelly of the castle, through dank corridors and barely lit stairwells, and finally to a wooden door held shut by a thick iron bar. At Nyomi’s signal, the ferro’kine stationed outside lifted the blockade. Nothing could have prepared Lyana for what waited inside.

  Cassi lay trembling on a bed, easily twenty pounds thinner than the last time Lyana had seen her, all bones. Her eyes were closed, but she wasn’t sleeping. Incoherent mumbles spilled from her lips as she twitched and jerked, her head thrashing from side to side. Deep purple bags stained her cheeks. Sweat covered every inch of her skin. A cryo’kine pressed frigid icicles to her brow, while a pyro’kine suspended a flame beneath her feet. The tortured cry of her soul nearly sent Lyana reeling.

  “Stop!” she shouted, seizing the mages with her magic and practically flinging them from the room. The next thing she knew, she was on her knees, leaning over the bed with her hand pressed to Cassi’s brow as her healing power poured into the owl. For the first time since learning the truth, Lyana didn’t see a stranger or a traitor. All she saw was her friend.

  Cassi’s eyes fluttered open.

  “Ana?” Her voice was barely audible, raw and scratchy, quivering with vulnerability. “Is that really you?”

  “Shh, it’s me,” Lyana soothed, brushing her fingers over Cassi’s forehead and into her hair. “I’m here. You can sleep now. I promise I won’t leave you.”

  38

  Xander

  For the first time in his life, Xander was well and truly drunk. And singing. Wait—was he singing? Yes, he was. The sound of his voice echoed off the vast halls of the hummingbird palace, slurred and nearly incoherent but definitely his.

  “I know of a tavern not far from here,
where the nectar flows from tier to tier. The hummingbirds flock from miles around. It’s the best damn time, so fly right on down…”

  He lingered on that last note, laughter stirring in the back of his throat as he and Prince Damien stumbled together over the marble floor. There was no way to know if he was holding the prince up, or if the prince was holding him up, but they each had an arm around the other’s waist, their wings dragging as they followed a zigzag path toward the royal rooms.

  “Have a sip, have two, and drown out your sorrows, say goodbye to your fears, they’ll be there tomorrow. Seize the night with Eurythes’ fine blessing, our god’s on our side so stop second-guessing…”

  They paused for the big finale. Damien threw back his head as he bellowed into the vines crisscrossing the ceiling above their heads. “Now, drink and drink and drink—again! Now, drink and drink and drink till the end! Drink and drink and drink!”

  The room swam as Damien pushed him forward, possibly through a door, though there was no way to tell. Next thing he knew, he was in a seat with a new glass being shoved into his hand.

  “No more,” Xander protested. “I can’t have anymore.”

  “Oh, raven lightweight,” Damien jibed, throwing his own shot back.

  “Your metabolism is five times faster than mine.”

  “Try ten.”

  “Exactly.”

  “You asked for a true hummingbird welcome. Well, this is a true hummingbird welcome.”

  “I think it’s payback,” Xander grumbled as he dropped his head into his hand. The floor and ceiling were spinning, so he couldn’t tell which was up and which was down. Being seated made his stomach roil. The prince had been right about one thing, though—he couldn’t feel the pain of his bruises at all. In fact, he feared his body might be numb. And for some reason, he wasn’t sure he could feel his tongue. But could he ever feel his tongue? Or was it always this fat and heavy?

  Tomorrow, he thought, cringing. I’ll feel everything and more tomorrow.

  “Sounds like you two had fun,” a female voice chimed.

  Xander rolled his head to the side. He would have attempted to stand and offer a formal bow, but he couldn’t move his legs. Or his arms. Or anything, really. “Princess Coralee.”

  A grin curved her lips as she closed the book in her lap and uncurled her legs to rise from the window seat. Humor shone in her bronze eyes, but she didn’t tease. She was too kind, or perhaps reserved, for that. Damien, on the other hand, was as loud and boastful as they came. As soon as his mate stood, he sped across the room, took her arms, and started twirling her around the room, a new song on his lips. They spun in a violet-and-amber blur, his wings moving far faster than hers. Whatever protests she made were quickly replaced by laughter.

  Xander dropped his head back, smiling as he watched them. Strange to think that only months before she’d been his intended mate, until Lyana had changed the game. At the time, he’d thought Coralee would be his perfect match, but now? He wasn’t so sure. They were both studious and polite, preferring books to people and quiet contemplation to raucous celebrations. How long would they have tiptoed around each other before forming a true connection? Months? Years? Maybe she’d needed someone like Damien to break her out of her shell. And maybe he needed someone who would throw him up against castle walls and question his every theory, someone who would pick apart his favorite books and force him to break into locked library rooms, someone who challenged him as he’d never been challenged before.

  Black-and-white speckled owl wings filled his vision as his eyes slipped closed. Cassi’s silver irises flashed with all the luminous mystery of the moon. She’d had many smiles, sometimes devious and sometimes teasing, though his favorite had been on the beach in that dream, her grin honest and true as they built a world full of wonder together. He could see her now, the silken brunette tendrils of her hair swirling in the breeze as she laughed and dipped her hands into a sea made of hummingbird nectar, the sun warm against her tawny skin.

  “Xander?”

  He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of her voice. “Cassi?”

  “Your mind feels…strange.”

  The bookshelves behind her were familiar, a personal collection built over a lifetime, now buried beneath the sea. The leather armchair in which he sat was worn, molded perfectly to the contours of his body. The towering columns, gleaming white marble, and endless vegetation of the House of Flight were long gone. “We’re in a dream.”

  “Right.”

  He sighed. “I thought maybe you were here.”

  “I am…” She trailed off, a groove digging into her brow. “Lyana sent me.”

  “You’re too late. I already sent Helen.”

  “I know. Listen, a lot’s happened, and— Are you sure you’re all right?”

  He wobbled unsteadily on his feet. If waking Xander couldn’t move, did that mean dream Xander couldn’t either? There was only one way to find out. He took a tentative step forward, spreading his wings for balance, then another and another. A grin pulled at his lips. “I’m walking.”

  “I can see that.”

  “Isn’t it marvelous?” He spun to face her, and one foot caught on the other. His body was too slow to catch up to his mind, or maybe his mind was too slow to catch up to his body, or maybe it was all his mind since this was a dream. Regardless, he stumbled to the side and slammed into his desk. Cassi jumped forward to steady him.

  “Are you…” Her lustrous eyes widened, sparkling with mirth. “Are you drunk?”

  “Princes don’t get drunk.”

  “Well, you’re a king,” she drawled, helping him reposition against the table so it propped him upright. “And you’re definitely drunk.”

  Oh, right. He was a king now.

  And an orphan.

  And alone.

  She stepped back, but he grabbed her hand, not letting go. “Do you know Rafe is the King Born in Fire?”

  Cassi nodded slowly. “I do.”

  “I’ve been thinking…” It was his turn to trail off as he rubbed his thumb across the tips of her fingers, again and again, marveling at the smoothness of her skin. “If you never cut off his wings, he never would’ve fallen to the world below. And if he had never fallen, he never would’ve been soul-joined to a dragon. And if he were never soul-joined to a dragon, then he never would’ve become this king he now is. So, in an odd way, the horrible thing you did might have saved the world.”

  “Xander—”

  “So I can’t be mad at you anymore, can I?” he asked, lifting his face back to hers, remembering they were only a few inches apart. Her slightly parted lips were tantalizingly close. As if sensing his attention, she darted her tongue out, wetting them. His pulse spiked. “Not if you saved the world.”

  Shadows darkened her eyes. “You can be mad at me, Xander. You should be.”

  “Why?” He shrugged. “You’re a liar, but now I’m a liar too. I’m lying to everyone in the realm, about the gods and magic and what Lyana’s really doing. You thought about killing me, sure, but you didn’t. The night my home fell into the sea, for a moment I thought about leaving you in that cell, but I didn’t either. We’re even.”

  “You’re drunk,” she said again, the word sounding like a protest as she slipped her hand from his. She didn’t step back, though. The side of her thigh touched his, the small point of contact making his whole side burn. “You’re talking nonsense.”

  “My mother used to say imbibing makes a man too honest. It was why she never drank. Rulers, she said, need to be able to deceive.”

  “Not you.”

  He sighed. “I’m not so sure. I’ve grown quite skilled at deception.”

  A snort slipped out. “You’re the most honest person I know.”

  “You want to hear something honest?” His voice lowered to a whisper. Unable to stop himself, he pressed his fingers to the bare skin of her arm, tracing a path from her wrist to her shoulder before letting his hand drop away. “I was worr
ied when you didn’t come.”

  She swallowed, loud enough he heard, but said nothing.

  “You want to hear something even more honest?”

  With a slow nod, she drew her lower lip between her teeth. All he wanted to do was use his mouth to lure it back out.

  “I missed you.”

  “You’re drunk,” she murmured.

  He arched a brow. “So?”

  A moment passed, then two. Just as he started to lean in, she pulled back and turned her face to the side. Even in his stupor, the rejection stung. With a cough, he straightened his legs, forgetting how weak they felt as he gripped the table behind him to keep from falling.

  “Maybe I should take a turn being honest,” Cassi finally said into the silence. Lured by the sound, he lifted his face, along with his hope. She wrung her hands and took a deep breath, as though building her courage. “I want more than this for us.”

  His heart fell.

  Of course she wanted more.

  Of course she needed more than him.

  “Xander,” she murmured and took his hand, then his wrist, until all four of their arms were joined. “I want more than a drunken confession. I want to hear your forgiveness with my own ears. And for you to mean it with a sober mind. I want to touch you, the real you, and I want you to touch me, not in the stolen hours of a dream, but beneath the bright light of the sun. And that’s partially why I’m here. Malek healed me, and Lyana is sending me back to the world above.”

  “You’re healed?” He tightened his grip, unable to fight his smile.

  As if it were infectious, her lips widened too. Yet something sad hovered at the edges of her eyes, a shadow dulling their shine. “I am.”

  “What’s wrong—”

  “Nothing.” She shook her head. “Nothing’s wrong, I promise. I’ll explain another time, but for now, if you remember anything from this dream by the time you wake up, please try to remember this—I’m coming to the House of Flight as soon as I can. I’m coming to see you and to retrieve the diary.”