The onyx orb hovering in the center of the room caught her attention immediately. It was surrounded by a layer of undulating shadow, so thick the moonlight shining through the open ceiling couldn’t penetrate it. Not that Cassi expected it would.
God stone, she thought, snorting at the idea as she made her way closer, stretching out with her spirit, pressing her invisible hand against the smooth surface of the stone and letting the energy sizzle where it touched her soul. If they only knew the truth.
The avians worshipped these floating orbs, associating each with a different deity, believing they thrummed with divine power. According to their legends, the gods had sacrificed their immortal bodies to lift the isles into the air, caging themselves within these stones to give their faithful servants a free, peaceful life high in the sky where no enemies could ever find them. And they believed these myths so strongly, they were willing to kill for them, to murder anyone who showed any hint of magic for fear it was an affront to their almighty gods.
That irony hit Cassi particularly hard.
She would be dead if her dormi’kine magic, her dreamwalking, was ever discovered.
Lyana too—their own beloved princess.
Cassi’s mother had been a victim of the persecution. At the age of five, her power had been discovered. They had stabbed her in the chest and sawed off one of her wings before hurling her over the edge to fall to her death. But she was an aero’kine. Wind was her power, and while her family abandoned her, the magic never did. It cradled her, held her, softened the fall, and a captain from the world below had seen her through the fog as she gently splashed into the ocean. He pulled her from the water and tended to her wounds, saving her life, giving her a better one where her magic was appreciated, even exalted, the way it deserved to be.
Because the truth was there were no gods.
The energy pulsing through the stone beneath her fingers wasn’t Taetanos, god of death—it was shadow magic. Pure and simple. There was no Aethios, only spirit magic like Cassi’s, like Lyana’s, the strongest kind of all. And Erhea, the god of love, revered by the songbirds? That beating red stone wasn’t a heart. It was the thing those of the world above feared most—fire magic.
There were seven elements, not seven gods, and each stone was one of those elements bottled up and sealed in an elaborate web that had been woven a thousand years ago through the sort of power that no longer existed. No one, not even her king, truly understood how the isles had come to rise into the air or why. The truth had faded into myth and legend in both the world above and the one below, but the past mattered very little.
The future, however, was still in flux.
The future was what Cassi fought to preserve.
Reluctantly, she pulled her spirit hands from the stone and blinked away the thrall of so much magic as she tried to focus on her surroundings. The sacred nest of the House of Whispers was, she quickly realized, a collapsed cavern. Impenetrable stone walls towered at least fifty feet high, curving in toward an open spot where the ground must have long ago given way. The stars glittered overhead, and the moon was bright as it filled the room, shining through the bars across the opening, keeping the squawking ravens inside. The area was thick with trees, as dense as the forest they’d flown across, though there were a few open passages leading from the orb toward the exterior sides of the nest—one led to the gate where Cassi had entered, and the others had to lead somewhere, too.
She had a hard time believing that any time the royal family wanted to visit the nest, they were first soaked by splashing water. There had to be another entrance, an easier one, even if only to deliver food and supplies to the priests and priestesses who were most likely asleep in their beds. The sacred nest at the House of Peace had an elaborate scheme of rooms and secret hallways used for the same purpose. This place would be no different.
Cassi just needed time—time and daylight, neither of which she’d find tonight. She put her hand to the orb one more time and breathed in the powerful aura, pausing for a beat to let it fill her, before reluctantly letting go.
Soon, she thought. Her new mantra.
Soon. Soon. Soon.
42
Lyana
He was so kind—so kind and caring and chivalrous—and he deserved more.
That was all Lyana thought as the rest of the week passed, and her feeling of suffocation grew, while his affectionate smile never wavered.
He deserves more than me, she thought, in his library for the third time that week. Xander leaned over a table, mind deep in the scrolls he’d unrolled, while she stood off to the side, staring out the window at the town below—a town that called out to her, whispering her name, urging she open the window, spread her wings, escape the castle, and join them in the streets below.
Or maybe not more, she corrected, idly rubbing the glass pane with her fingers. Just different. A girl who will stand beside him, not across from him. A girl who is content with being safe and secure, not always dreaming of adventure. A girl who… Her gaze drifted down, down, down to the raven all alone at the far side of the practice field, visible even from this distance. A girl who isn’t staring at his brother, remembering the way his magic sizzled beneath his skin, the way he watched her through firelight.
Lyana jerked away from the glass as if it stung her and spun, squaring her shoulders and facing her mate, determined to find a common ground.
“What are you reading?” she asked casually, stepping to his desk and pressing her palms against the worn wood to keep grounded.
“Huh?” He glanced up, surprised. “Oh, um, nothing really. It’s, well… I’m not actually reading per se, just reviewing some old maps of the isles.”
“Maps?” Lyana leaned over to peek.
Xander tilted his head as if perplexed but turned the spine of his book so she could see. Lyana touched the smooth parchment, following the contours of the mountains, the lines marking where land gave way to sky. But all she could think was, Why? Why sit in a tower and stare at old maps, when everything on that page was waiting just outside the window?
“Hmm.” Her murmur was half a sigh, half feigned interest.
Xander latched on to the latter. A rush of color flooded his cheeks and he leaned closer, their shoulders and wings brushing as he put his finger next to hers on the page. “You see this, here?” he asked in the animated voice of a scholar. “You see the edge, there, on the other side of the isle? Not where the castle is, but on the more uninhabited part. You see how it juts out? Now…”
He pushed the book a few inches away, grunting as he reached with his left hand to grab another heavy volume. Lyana moved to help, but he drew his breath in sharply, so she stopped, gaze darting to his right arm and the rounded end covered in black silk to match his coat. She dropped her hand gently back to the tabletop. As though nothing had happened, Xander hastily opened the cover and began sifting through the pages, searching for something, and there! He stopped with the book open on another map.
“Now,” he said, breathing out before drawing her attention to the illustration. “Look here, that same spot as the previous map, except the edge of the isle is now concave. The two edges don’t line up at all.”
Lyana knitted her brows and looked up at him. “A mistake, surely?”
“I thought so too at first,” he agreed, but pursed his lips, eyes sharp and focused. “Though that’s not the only difference. The others are just subtler. I’ve compared maybe a dozen maps from different cartographers across all different ages, and no two perfectly match.”
“What do you think it means?” she asked, genuinely confused about what he was suggesting.
Xander lifted his brows as a jovial smile widened his lips. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. But either our island has been getting smaller and smaller, slowly enough for no one to realize it, or we are in dire need of new mapmakers.”
Lyana leaned back. “Are you teasing me?”
“No.” An almost comical, horrified look pas
sed over his face, sincere enough to make her trust his response. “No, not at all. I’m being serious. I noticed it before the courtship trials. I even put in a request with the House of Wisdom for access to their records, which should be far more accurate in size and scope than mine.”
“The House of Wisdom?” Lyana’s chest filled with a familiar sort of anticipation. “But they don’t lend their archives.”
“No, no, I’d have to make a trip, which shouldn’t be a problem now that the courtship trials are over,” he told her offhandedly, attention returning to his books.
Her reaction, however, was anything but casual. Lyana gasped and seized his forearm as her eyes popped, mind spinning with every sliver of information she’d ever heard about the great libraries of the owls and their underground maze of a home. “A trip! When? How soon? Have you been before? Oh, can we go, Xander? Can we?”
He started laughing before she’d even finished speaking. “Are you so eager to get out of here?”
Although his tone was playful, there was just enough honesty in that question to make her pause, and a dimming of his eyes made her wonder if her unenthusiastic attempts at being a proper princess had been shamefully transparent.
“Of course not,” she hastily responded.
Xander reached across the table and took her hand in his, gently grazing the tops of her fingers with his thumb, a yearning sort of touch that made her lift her chin to look at him, but his eyes were cast down. Before she could say any more, he pulled his hand away and walked to the window. Lyana followed with her eyes but felt stuck to the spot as she cradled the fingers he’d just abandoned to her chest, unsure why they tingled.
“You’ve been very patient with me, with my family, our customs and our plans this past week,” he said as he touched the window latch.
A wry grin appeared on her lips—patient was not a word that had ever been used to describe her—but she kept her mouth shut, almost afraid to interrupt as he turned the handle and slid the glass pane open. A gust of wind blew into the room. Invisible arms wrapped around Lyana’s waist, tugging her outside. She stumbled closer, unable to stop herself as her skirt flared and her feathers ruffled.
“I think maybe it’s time I return the favor,” Xander said, glancing over his shoulder before taking a single step back and leaping through the large window.
Lyana ran to the opening and stopped at the edge, certain this was a trick.
Xander hovered, onyx wings slick in the sun, eyes sparkling in the bright daylight. “Aren’t you coming?”
“Don’t we—” Lyana broke off before she could finish the sentence, shaking her head with disbelief. They were supposed to be meeting with the queen in half an hour. But if he didn’t mind being late, neither did she. “Yes!”
She dove out the window and snapped her wings wide, blood pumping as her body began to sing.
43
Rafe
If he hadn’t been in the practice yards waiting for the ever-tardy Cassi to arrive, he might not have heard Helen whistle, a high-pitched slow-quick-quick-quick sound that could only mean one thing. Rafe looked up, covering his brow to deflect the glare as he made out two figures zipping down from the top of the castle, racing toward the city on the other side of the wall—Xander and his princess.
Rafe flew over the lawn, landing at a run as he pushed his way through the circle of guards waiting for a command. “I’m coming.”
Helen glanced at him, not an ounce of surprise in her expression. “You, me, and…”
She pointed to two other guards but Rafe had returned his gaze to the two descending figures. It didn’t matter, anyway. Whoever else was coming would treat him just the same. And it wasn’t about the guards. It was about his brother—who was, at this moment, acting very much not like his brother. Xander rarely went anywhere unless the proper arrangements were made first, and unless his mother and the guards knew. He was the sole heir, and even though the seven houses were peaceful, and the royal family had no enemies they knew of, he still wasn’t supposed to travel alone—not when so many hopes and dreams and people relied on him.
“Come on,” Helen said as she secured a throwing knife to her belt and pumped her wings. “We’ll stick to the sky, give them a little privacy. But keep a watchful eye, just in case.”
Rafe and the two guards nodded. He felt almost naked going out without his twin blades, but they were resting on a table in his room where he’d left them the night before, and there was no time to retrieve them. Instead, he swiped a single sword from the collection, making sure it was sharp, before he followed the others.
By the time they were over the wall, Xander and Lyana had disappeared into the city streets, but it didn’t take long to find them. If the rising hum of conversation hadn’t been enough, the rush of movement certainly was. People running. People flying. All moving closer and closer to one fixed point—the main town square where a pair of ivory wings stood apart from the crowd, yet also its center.
Helen and the two guards remained high above the city, maintaining the aerial view, but Rafe shifted closer. Maybe he was a glutton for punishment. Maybe he was just being a diligent brother. Maybe it was a bit of both. But he found he couldn’t help but sink toward one of the rooftops circling the square, crouching out of sight as he searched for the best vantage point from which to watch the pair.
They were as happy as he’d ever seen them. Xander spun in circles, shaking people’s hands, introducing them to his new mate, laughing so hard he threw his head back, his whole body racked with mirth. And Lyana was right by his side, kneeling to accept the hugs children offered and threading the flowers they brought her through her hair. The crowd continued to grow and grow, but true to the House of Whispers, no one pushed, and no one shoved. They respected their prince and kept a ring around him, allowing Xander to approach them instead of the other way around. Still, it was an unusual day when the prince made a surprise visit to the town, especially with his new mate, and some of the ravens on the outskirts began to beat their wings for a few futile seconds to steal a quick glance as the couple walked by.
The longer he watched, the deeper the pit in Rafe’s stomach grew, though he couldn’t pinpoint precisely why. He was used to the role of outsider looking in, and this was no different—perched on a rooftop, watching the revelry without taking part. And yet, as he watched his brother, for the first time uncertain of what was going on in his head, Rafe realized he wasn’t accustomed to this feeling, not at all, not when it came to Xander. And as his eyes flicked to Lyana, the image of the alluring girl in the cave—the one who had looked at him as though he might be the start of something—was shriveling away, replaced by a princess he hardly knew.
It was good.
It was how it was supposed to be.
Nevertheless, the gaping hole in his chest that no one else could see ached. Rafe glanced at the guards circling overhead, but didn’t move. He kept his wings against his back and gritted his teeth as he turned again to the square, forcing himself to watch no matter how much it hurt, because there was no other option but to suffer in silence, which he did, keeping his eyes glued to the happy couple. His diligence was the only reason he saw Lyana freeze.
A moment later, he understood why. The air prickled with magic. A static charge made the hairs on his arms stand tall and sent a tingle down his spine.
She looked up, searching the sky.
Her eyes found him instead, widening before quickly dropping back to the square and the people around her. He didn’t miss the frown creasing her forehead or the way her feathers bristled. He looked away, trying to shut out the world, if only for an instant. And that was when he felt the ground beneath him tremble—a small, subtle thing.
Rafe jumped to his feet, alarmed. The shingles on the roof vibrated ever so slightly. The water in the twin fountains on either end of the square rippled, not from a splash, but from movement unseen. He found Xander in the crowd, noticing how his brother smiled at a jewelry vendor, admiring
his wares, unconcerned. Rafe turned to Lyana, but the princess had been pulled into a nursery game with some children, holding their hands as they skipped in a circle. He’d experienced earthquakes before, but this felt different, bigger, yet no one else seemed to notice or care.
The fizz of magic dissipated.
Then everything happened all at once.
A rumble turned into a roar and the ground violently shook, sending half the crowd to their knees as the stones along the floor of the courtyard ruptured. The statue in the center of one fountain broke, and a torrent of water spewed like heavy rain. Parts of the river splashed over the barriers, sending waves across the already slick cobbles. Laughter turned to screams. Through the chaos, a deafening crack split the air.
Where?
Where?
Rafe searched for the source of the sound, gaze jumping to the bridge connecting the two sides of the square, to the black arches of the spirit gates, to the stone façades of the buildings around the perimeter.
Then he saw.
All the buildings close to the river were set on low columns, no more than four feet tall, to escape the flooding that happened each spring. And one of those columns was now splintered down the center, a spidery fissure that crept up into the building above. The crack spread, foot by foot, higher and wider, like a snap of lightning cutting through stone.
The world continued to shake.
The stones began to teeter.
The surface wobbled.
A flash of white caught Rafe’s eye. Two ivory wings spread, but didn’t move, didn’t launch into the air like many ravens had done in the confusion.
She was still, shocked.
With her head angled up, she stared in horror at the avalanche of rock ready to crush her.
The Raven and the Dove Page 25
