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

by Kaitlyn Davis

  12

  Xander

  The door to the palace of Cytrene closed behind Xander and Lyana with a resounding bang. Thankfully, the dark night hid his flinch.

  "They'll never help us with the other houses," he murmured as he took her arm and led her down the front steps. "King Dominic will never forgive us for making him the fool."

  "I believe he did that all on his own."

  "I doubt that's how he sees it."

  Lyana sighed. "Do you regret making the wager, then?"

  "No," Xander answered honestly.

  The edge of her lip lifted, prompting his to do the same. No, he didn’t regret putting the man in his place even a little bit, and the King of the House of Song had made good on his word. He’d shared their proclamation with his people, he’d sent food to the ravens, and he’d welcomed them to his home, providing supplies for the House of Whispers to build more permanent housing. However, his good will had ended there. No matter how many times Lyana and Xander had come to his door in the following days, he refused to hear them. He refused to order an end to the execution of mages on his isle. He refused to send letters of support to the other houses. He refused them any further access to the sacred nest. Short of Lyana using her magic to break her way inside, they'd reached an impasse. To Xander, a man of diplomacy, there was no bigger frustration. "All I mean is we need to consider other ways to convince the rest of the houses, ones with more amicable outcomes."

  His queen huffed—not an outright disagreement, which he'd take as a win. They were silent the rest of the way down the steps.

  "Xander?" she finally asked as they reached the bottom. His wings had started to spread in anticipation of the sky, but they fell still at the sound of her voice. "I know we have so much to do, and so little time, but do you think, maybe, we could take a short walk?"

  The expression on her face spoke of wonder, all her attention on the ornate bridge lit by soft lantern light leading deeper into the city. He'd been ready to say no—there was too much to do, too much to plan—but the twinkle in her eyes made him swallow the refusal. For the first time since they'd landed in the House of Song, she looked a bit like the princess he remembered, full of awe and curiosity, not weighed down by responsibility. The sight brought a warm tingle to his skin.

  "I suppose we have time for a walk," he conceded.

  Lyana smiled up at him. The look no longer brought a flutter to his heart, but it did smooth the tension from his frame. Maybe they both needed a break, no matter how small. And he had to admit, he, too, was curious about this foreign city neither of them had taken the opportunity to explore.

  They walked arm in arm over the bridge, marveling at a scene that was beautiful by day, but glorious by night. Since the city was composed almost entirely of wood, Cytrene was lit by contained colonies of firebugs instead of flame lanterns. Their muted glow softened the evening ambience—a mood enhanced by the fountains cascading along and arching across nearly every street, the water sparkling like starlight descended from the sky. Soothing splashes mixed with tingling chimes to create a musical backdrop. Everywhere Xander looked, bright colors weaved through the shadows, a mixture of floral carpets and sculptural accents. The City of Love lived up to its name, a romantic paradise, though the very thought made his chest tighten.

  Strolling among the songbirds, he and Lyana looked every part the mates they pretended to be. No one here would guess the raven king and queen slept in different beds, that they dreamed of holding other lovers in their arms, that their union was just as flimsy as this world around them, suspended in air and held aloft by shredding threads, as temporary as a fleeting thought. But Xander knew, and with each passing day it was becoming harder to maintain the ruse.

  "Lyana?"

  "Xander?"

  Nervous laughter spilled from their lips.

  "You first," he said, not even sure what he'd been going to ask anyway. "Please."

  She stopped halfway across the next bridge and put her hands against the banister, looking down at the flowing water as an expression he couldn't read passed over her face, there then gone. He took the spot by her side and leaned his forearms on the wooden rail. Shadows darted and danced beneath the surface of the river, flashing as iridescent scales caught the light.

  "I like those, by the way," she murmured, indicating his arm guards. He'd been rubbing the polished metal with his thumb subconsciously. "They suit you. Are they new?"

  Xander stood and tucked his arms behind his back, removing the weapons from sight as the memory of Cassi's knife at his throat stirred. He didn’t know why he still wore them, just as he didn’t know why he still had that leather-bound diary tucked against his breastbone, hidden beneath the folds of his jacket. They were a comfort and a curse—things from which he couldn’t be freed.

  He cleared his throat before answering, "They were a gift."

  "Oh?" Her curiosity was piqued. "From who?"

  Xander held back a grimace. I should've known that would happen. The name scratched its way up his throat, coming out strangled. "Cassi."

  "Oh."

  An uncomfortable silence stretched, the sort he couldn't help but note he never experienced with her friend. The problem with Cassi had been losing himself to their conversations, until time and duty both seemed distant ideals, a fact he now knew had been the point all along. She'd been lying and leading him in circles, all the while plotting his demise.

  Was he so different?

  Now, Xander was the liar—to his people, to his world. He didn’t want the avians to live in fear. He didn’t want the houses to crumble. But the isles were going to fall, no matter what they did, and every passing day he lived without confessing that ugly truth the guilt thickened. His every proclamation was drenched in false hope, and it ate away at his soul.

  How had Cassi lived like this?

  How did Lyana?

  Maybe that was what he'd been going to ask before—how she kept a smile on her face and the wonder in her eyes, how she carried on, knowing the doom that lay ahead.

  "I've been speaking to her," Lyana confessed softly and Xander's heart lurched inside his chest. "That's what I was trying to say earlier. I've been speaking to Cassi, and I'm not sure why I didn't tell you sooner, but I should've. I asked her to spy for us, and she's been giving me information about what's happening on the other isles and down beneath the mist."

  On some level, he must have known. How else had she been getting the information she'd been sharing at their meetings? Obviously, Cassi was the source. Yet upon his hearing it, disappointment carved a hollow inside his chest, a feeling he'd been trying to ignore every morning since first waking from a dreamless sleep in the House of Song. It was better this way—seeing her would only bring him pain—but if he were honest, it was an ache he welcomed.

  "Is she…?"

  "She's in Da'Kin with Malek," Lyana answered, sensing the question he couldn't complete. "Her body is, at least. He's not sure how to heal her yet, or maybe he's not willing. I don't know. But I do know she's doing everything she can to help our cause."

  "So you've forgiven her?"

  "No." The word was adamant, yet a moment later, the harsh lines of her face softened. "No. I don't know. I guess I understand her, knowing Malek, knowing the prophecy, knowing the impossible choice placed before her. But every time I look at her it stings, and I can't quite erase the hurt. I suppose it's probably how you feel every time you look at me."

  "What?" Xander frowned. "I don't—"

  "It’s all right," she interrupted. "I deserve it. I lied to you, in the worst way possible. I wasn't thinking about you or about him, or about the relationship you both share. I was thinking about myself. And I don't know if I ever told you how sorry I am for treating you the way I did, but I am, Xander. From the bottom of my heart, I'm so very sorry."

  "I know."

  "And he is too."

  Xander lifted his face to the sky, searching the forest canopy for the bright spot of the moon. His
cheek burned beneath the weight of her stare, and his voice was hardly louder than a whisper as he said, "I know."

  That didn’t stop it from hurting.

  He'd forgiven Lyana, and she was wrong—it didn’t hurt every time he saw her. But the ache was there whenever he thought of Rafe, a blow far deeper than the one she'd struck, sharpened by time. For all Xander knew, his brother carried the same scar from how quickly he'd been banished, with no thought for his defense. They'd cut each other, and the wounds were still bleeding. He wasn't sure when they'd heal.

  "There's one more thing I should probably tell you before I lose my courage," Lyana started. "Rafe—"

  "Your Majesties!"

  They spun, wings slapping together in their surprise. A raven guard landed behind them, his feathers inky as he offered a deep bow.

  "What happened?" Xander asked, all personal thoughts fleeing at the worry written across the man's face. The role of king settled on him like a mantle.

  "A letter arrived while you were gone, and Helen insisted you be informed of the news immediately." The man paused to swallow, and Xander felt his stomach drop all the way to his toes. "There's been an earthquake in the House of Paradise."

  The gods, he silently cursed and lifted his fist to his mouth to cover his frown. Beside him, Lyana tensed. Whatever time they thought they had was gone. Mnesme's god stone would be the next to fall.

  Visions flashed across his mind—of his people crying, of their screams, of his city engulfed by mist and his isle sinking beneath the waves. Soon, the House of Paradise would experience the same terror. Soon, they'd lose everything. And if there was even a shred of comfort he could provide, an ounce of solace, any lie was worth it. He would say and do whatever he needed to ease the pain headed their way.

  Resolve hardened around his heart like a shield.

  "Go, find Helen and tell her we'll be there shortly," Xander ordered. When the man disappeared into the shadows of the trees, he returned his attention to Lyana. "What were you saying? About Rafe?"

  "Huh?" She shook her head as though clearing her thoughts. Clarity sparked like green fire in her eyes, then quickly dampened. "It was nothing. It's not important."

  Xander took her hand, studying her face. "You're sure?"

  "Yes. He’s safe. He’s with friends."

  "Friends?"

  The word popped out drenched in unintentional shock. The brother he remembered was a brooding recluse who pushed everyone away, and now he had friends? Who? How? What had happened to him beneath the mist? Questions Xander had been suppressing for days bubbled from the depths, a topic he’d been avoiding now more intriguing than ever, as though Lyana’s apology had opened a door he hadn’t realized he’d locked.

  "Later," Lyana pleaded, the word carrying the weight of a promise as she tilted her chin toward the sky. Moonlight spilled through a break in the trees, casting her skin in a luminescent glow and reminding him she was more than just his queen. She was a servant of the gods, and right now her power was needed elsewhere.

  "Let’s go," Xander agreed, pushing all the selfish desires of his heart aside. "Helen’s waiting."

  13

  Lyana

  The raven camp was still beneath the moonlight as Lyana crept through hastily erected tents, leaving the royal quarters behind. The meeting with Helen had been quick. They were leaving for the House of Paradise tomorrow, which meant she had one final night to enact the plan she’d been concocting for days, the one she'd conceived as she used her magic to calm the House of Song and spotted a handful of knowing eyes among the crowd. Unlike in the past, she'd already filled Xander in and acquired his approval. Not that his disapproval would have stopped her, but still—she was trying to be better, fairer, more open than the king she'd left to stew in the mist.

  "I have an idea, Xander," she'd told him after Helen left their spacious canvas palace. The sight of a space far too large for just two people had left them feeling guilty when ravens were still sleeping beneath open skies, not even a pillow to rest their heads upon. "I'm not sure it's one you'll like, but I want to be honest and I don't want to go behind your back anymore."

  His brow had furrowed. "What?"

  "I want to put a personal guard together."

  "That sounds wise."

  "…formed of mages."

  He'd gone rigid.

  "Hear me out. No one needs to know they're mages—not yet, anyway. But I want ravens with magic to understand we support them. And we're going to need every soldier we can get as more of the eggs hatch and the rift widens. I can help train them. I can—"

  "Do it," he'd cut in, no ounce of doubt in his tone.

  "Really?"

  "Yes. If you're able to find a mage among our people, do whatever you can to help them."

  "I'm glad you said that." She'd paused, pulling her lower lip into her mouth in a moment of hesitation before blurting, "Because I already identified five."

  His eyes had about fallen from their sockets with disbelief. Lyana explained how she could sense the power in their spirits, and how she'd spent the past few days quietly using bits of magic around camp and searching for awareness in people's eyes. He didn’t understand what she meant until she described the secret beauty of magic and the golden sparks dancing around her fingers, invisible to him, yet so clear to her—so clear to any mage, including the woman who would be her first visit of the night.

  Lyana stopped beside a tent near the outskirts of the clearing and called upon her magic, letting it simmer beneath her skin. A single soul rested at peace on the other side of the canvas, alone and sleeping, exactly as she'd hoped. Pushing her hand through the flaps, she ducked inside. The woman woke immediately, her heart leaping in her chest as her spirit filled with fear. Recognition sparked in her deep brown eyes and she stumbled from her cot. Waves of ebony hair spilled over her shoulders, blending with her wings, as she swept into a deep curtsy.

  "My queen."

  "Please don't be frightened," Lyana hastily whispered. "I'm not here to hurt you. What's your name?"

  The woman swallowed, her lips pursed and her throat tight. She was older than Lyana by a few years, but age didn’t matter when speaking to a monarch. Despite her obvious reluctance, she answered. "Amara, my queen."

  "Amara," Lyana said as she stepped farther into the shadows of the small tent, letting the flap fall behind her. The sounds of the forest slipped away, replaced by tense silence. "Do you know why I'm here?"

  Awareness sparked in the corners of the woman's eyes, like diamonds in the dark, but she shook her head in a silent no.

  "I know you've seen my power." Lyana lifted her palm and released the smallest tendril of her magic. Brilliant gold sparks flared to life, illuminating the space between them and casting a sunlit glow upon Amara's pale skin. The raven dropped her gaze to the display, then jerked it back up, alarm written across her face. "I know you have magic, too."

  "Your Majesty, please. I don't—"

  "It's all right," Lyana crooned, aching to use her power to calm Amara's spirit. The woman's hands trembled. Her dread dug into Lyana's soul like claws. But unlike Malek, she would give people a choice, and if they chose terror, the fault lay in her. "You don't need to say anything. You don't need to explain. I won't even ask what type of magic you have, though I sense the earth in your spirit. Unlike most people in our world, I didn't come here to hurt you. I know the terror of living with our secret, but I also know magic is a gift from the gods, and I don't want the mages of our world to live in fear any longer."

  She waited for Amara to relax, but her body remained as tense as a bow held taut, one second from snapping. It had been her intention to sit with the woman and practice some magic, to prove she meant no harm, but it was clear that would be too much for tonight. Instead, she made her offer, hoping the hours alone would change Amara's mind.

  "I came here tonight to ask you a question, and if you say no, then I will never bother you again. Your secret will be safe, and no one will learn th
e truth of your power from me. You'll be able to go on living the way you always have been. But if you are tired of living in fear, if you are tired of hiding something that feels as much a part of you as the raven who shares your soul, if you are tired of wondering what you could do once freed of the chains that bind you, then please consider my words. I'm looking to form a personal guard, and I'll be visiting four others tonight who share our secret. If you want to learn how to use your magic, if you want to unleash your power, if you want to fight at my side to save our world, then come to my tent at dawn and pledge your allegiance. We'll be flying to the House of Paradise at midday, and I would be thrilled to have you by my side. I know the idea of discovering who you really are and what you're truly capable of might be terrifying, but embracing my magic is the best thing I've ever done, and I want to give every mage I can the opportunity to find their inner strength as well. It may be a while before our people understand, but I assure you, the gods are on our side."

  While she spoke, Lyana's power filled the tent, spreading more and more, so that when she finished they were surrounded by the shimmering beauty of her magic. It was the sun and the stars. It was Aethios come to life. And even after all she'd experienced, the sight of it left her breathless with pride.

  But that was her journey.

  This was Amara's.

  Difficult as it was, Lyana pulled the power back beneath her skin, snuffing out the light. Amara studied her as the glow faded, those dark eyes missing nothing yet giving even less away.

  "If I don't see you in the morning, please know you can always change your mind and I'll be there waiting whenever you're ready."

  Then she departed, leaving the woman to her thoughts. The hour was late, and she had four more souls to visit before dawn broke, chasing all her time away.

  Despite her best efforts, the meetings all passed in similar fashions. The older man she visited next held his cards even closer to his chest than Amara had. The older woman was intrigued, but just as quiet, her gaze darting almost constantly to the corner of the room where her toddler slept. The youngest of the night, a boy of fifteen was the most eager, perhaps through the folly of youth, though Lyana sensed in him a kindred spirit. He was the only one to confess to his magic, revealing himself as a hydro'kine. And her final stop, a man around the same age as Amara, still young enough not to be mated, had been calmer than the others. She wasn't sure if that was better or worse.