The silence lengthened, four sets of eyes watching him and Lyana over steaming rims, until the queen finally broke the quiet.
“You’re so young,” she said softly.
His chest squeezed painfully tight, as though a searing rod of iron had been pressed to his skin, stealing his breath. His mother’s violet eyes flashed across his thoughts, but he buried the image. Now was not the time to show weakness, to show vulnerability. “We’re not the first to have been crowned too soon, and I doubt we’ll be the last. But our age matters little—”
“I think it matters a great deal,” she interrupted, her tone holding no anger or chiding, but rather a pensiveness he’d never expected. “There’s a boldness to youth, an invincibility and an openness so often whittled away by time. Perhaps that’s why the gods chose you—they knew you would be the most likely to believe. My mind has been molded by the years. The clay is no longer malleable. Try to change me, and a crack appears, as it did today. We got off on the wrong foot, I believe, King and Queen of the House of Whispers. For my house’s sake, I should like to start over.”
So, they did. They started from the beginning. Xander and Lyana launched into their rehearsed tale, explaining their mating day, her disappearance, and his isle’s fall. The royal family listened raptly, sometimes interrupting with questions, but showing far more interest than the songbirds ever had. And as their story came to a close, Xander ended with a soft, “You need to be prepared.”
“Can it not be stopped?” King Arie asked.
Lyana released a heavy breath. “I’m going to try.”
“How much time do we have?”
“I don’t know,” she said, her frustration evident. “I need access to your god stone. Take me to your sacred nest, now, and I might be able to give you an answer.”
As their feathers bristled, Xander hurried to soften her demands. “What my queen means is she needs to touch the god stone to sense the havoc Vesevios has wrought and see how much Mnesme’s spirit has been tainted. The closer she is to the gods, the better she can communicate with them. If you’ll honor us with access to your holiest place, it might be possible to slow the spread and gather more time.”
“Done,” Queen Zara agreed, her tone final. It was the first she’d spoken since the start of the conversation. All through their tale, she’d simply sat, sipped her drink, and studied them with her soulful eyes. Now she gently placed her cup on the table and gestured to her son. “The crown prince and princess will escort Queen Lyana to the sacred nest immediately. King Lysander, I hope you might stay and answer a few more of my questions while my mate returns to the business of our house.”
“Nothing would please me more.”
“Good.”
Lyana caught his eye on her way out the door and nodded subtly. So far, so good. An almost odd sense of optimism warmed his heart, out of place among the doom and gloom he’d been drowning in. The spark faded as quickly as it came.
“She’s too rash,” Queen Zara said the moment the door closed, leaving the two of them alone.
He sighed. “I’m aware.”
“She doesn’t ask. She demands.”
“I’m aware of that, too.”
“Had the gods not spoken so clearly this evening, I might never have listened.”
Xander paused, his pulse skipping a beat. “But?”
“But I find you intriguing, King Lysander,” she continued. He furrowed his brow. Me? “The prince I remember from the trials was just as rash as the queen I met today, relying on instincts instead of intellect. I’m not sure what’s changed you, but it’s as though losing your hand made you gain a new sense, or perhaps so much hardship and responsibility so soon has simply forced you to grow up. When I got your letter, I was thinking of the prince and princess I’d once met. I had my doubts, but seeing you as King and Queen has made me understand why the gods have chosen you. The queen has all the passion of a natural-born leader. She’s the sort of woman who can rouse an army, but how would that army be fed? Where would they live? Who would clothe them and care for them long after the rallying cry has faded? She is the storm, but you, King Lysander, are the shelter. You are the one I trust.”
Lyana was the chosen one.
Lyana was the queen of prophecy.
He was… He was…no one.
“I’m not sure I understand what you’re asking me.”
“For the truth,” she said simply.
He sucked in a strangled breath. “The truth?”
“Come.”
She stood from her floor cushion, walked to a wide veranda, and placed her forearms along the rail. Xander took the place by her side, following the path of her eyes. Night had fallen while they spoke, and Hyadria had been born anew. Lanterns blazed across the forest, but none so bright as the bonfire upon the dais where only hours before a boy had nearly lost his life. Around the flames, the people danced, bodies fluid as they leapt and spun, swaying toward the blaze and retreating, moving as one unit as though the song lived in their blood. And perhaps it did. There was no music aside from the pounding of feet, the humming of insects, and the rustling of leaves.
“They’re praying,” Queen Zara explained, reading the wonder in his gaze. She was clearly intuitive. “This is how our house gives honor to Mnesme—we dance with the fire to show we’re not afraid of it, to show our faith that she will protect us and keep us safe. And we won’t stop until the fire has died. Oh, some will sleep and some will tire, but others will take their place for as long as is needed to see Vesevios conquered. So I ask again, King Lysander, for the truth. Do my people dance in vain?”
“No,” he murmured, his voice low.
The queen studied him. His pulse pounded beneath her scrutiny, the rhythm in the forest filling his heart until it beat to the same tune. His spirit moved as one with the bodies below, demanding and forgiving, believing and wanting, pleading with him the way these people pleaded with their god.
He couldn’t tell her the full truth.
He couldn’t lie either.
“No, they don’t dance in vain,” he continued, staring into those bright flames as though they held the answers. “Because time spent praying to our gods is never wasted. They’ve sheltered us and protected us for hundreds of years, long before these isles rose into the sky, and they’ll continue to do so long after our time in the clouds has ended. Vesevios will never destroy our faith, but our homes…” Xander took a deep breath and turned to face her. The flames flickered across her unblemished cheeks. “They are going to fall.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“If we can’t prevent it, why do you need my help?”
“Because the people need to be prepared.” He closed his eyes, memories drawing him back to the night he would never forget. “My kingdom plummeted in a flash of terrified confusion, marked by screams. It happened so quickly. There was hardly time to take to the sky before the isle was falling. Many ravens died, and I don’t want the other houses to suffer the same fate. Start moving your people to the House of Peace. Start packing your supplies. Start preserving what you can of this way of life. The gods have given Lyana the power to buy us time. We cannot save our palaces. We cannot save our cities. But we can save our citizens. And as long as they still have breath, our cultures and our gods will live on.”
He didn’t know if he’d said too much, if he’d pushed too hard. The world wouldn’t change in a night, but it would never change if he and Lyana didn’t have help.
Queen Zara placed her hand upon his arm and squeezed gently as she watched her people dance. They stood like that for a few moments, side by side, listening to the rhythm, two monarchs with the weight of their subjects on their shoulders, until a cough interrupted.
“My queen,” a soft voice said, “Queen Lyana waits for King Lysander in the entrance hall. Shall I escort him out?”
“Yes.”
A sigh escaped his lips. He’d failed. His plea hadn’t been enough. He’d tried
honesty. He’d tried lies. He’d tried action. He’d tried diplomacy. It seemed no matter what he did, he was destined to fall short.
Xander turned to the door.
The queen dug her fingers into his jacket sleeve, and he froze, his body, heart, and spirit all hanging on her breath.
“I’ll stop the executions,” she said, tone low but not a whisper, full of authority. “The gods have chosen Lyana to save us. Her power can’t be denied. But perhaps they’ve chosen you to lead us, raven king. Come tomorrow. Help me plan a future for my people. Let me see what you can offer above public displays and pretty speeches. Then, maybe, I’ll plead your case to the other houses. Convince me, and I’ll help you get the other rulers on your side.”
He nodded, but her attention remained on her people, so he left her to her thoughts. The servant escorted him through the palace. With his every step toward the door, her words echoed across the silent halls.
Convince me.
Unlike Lyana, he had no magic, no godly displays, no irrefutable power. But he had his heart. He had his conviction. And he prayed they would be enough.
19
Cassi
Their swords crashed together, the sound echoing off the crystal dome and reverberating around the empty arena. When Lyana attacked again, Cassi rolled to the side and sliced her blade toward her queen’s calf. Lyana jumped and took to the air. Cassi pursued, her speedy owl wings gaining ground, but her friend darted left, then right, shooting up and then plummeting down, her dove wings far more agile in flight. Frustrated, Cassi tossed the sword aside. With a single thought from her, a bow filled her hands and the weight of arrows nestled against her spine. She grinned as she sent one flying.
“Hey!” Lyana shouted as she swerved out of its path. “No fair!”
“Who said anything about fair?”
Cassi released another arrow. Lyana widened her eyes indignantly, her power churning in the background of the dream. She took control of the scene and a belt of daggers appeared around her waist. With a wicked grin, she flung one toward Cassi.
I probably deserved that.
Arching her wings back, she plunged to the ground and skidded to a stop. By the time she pulled the bowstring taut, Lyana had landed. Halfway to her mark, the arrow transformed into a feather and drifted harmlessly to the ground.
Cassi frowned. Two can play at that game.
Snatching back command of the dream, she set her sights on the dagger in Lyana’s hand. The metal tip sprouted a tail, then four limbs, finally emerging as a small monkey that darted up her queen’s arm and leapt into her hair.
“Hey!” Lyana said again, her voice thick with laughter this time as she swatted at the little beast. Cassi made it vanish with a thought.
“Swords?” she asked.
Lyana nodded. “Swords.”
A blade appeared in each of their hands and they crashed together again, needing an outlet for all the energy their waking lives provided no way to expend. They were restless, and in that restlessness, they’d come here for the third night in a row. Saving the world made one a lot more stir crazy than Cassi had thought possible.
“Is Malek still sailing?”
“Yes,” she grunted as she parried Lyana’s attack, her teeth clenching at the mention of the king. Spying on him was not going according to plan. The man had his castle on lockdown. No one spoke outside of his presence, at least not about anything interesting. And every time she got within earshot of his meetings, they fell silent. He could sense her within moments, perfectly attuned to her spirit after so many years of shared dreams. And as much as she wanted to confront him and scream at him and beg him to put her body right, she refused to be the one to break. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem as though her king had plans to relent or apologize anytime soon. “He’s been in the open ocean for days. I have no idea where he’s going, and he can sense my spirit before I even see his ship through the fog. It’s infuriating.”
Lyana sighed.
Cassi used the opening to swing for her exposed left side, but Lyana spun away, refocusing on the fight in an instant. She advanced. Cassi blocked. They traded blows.
“What about Rafe?”
“Also still on the open ocean. Last I saw he was still trying to figure out how the whole communicating-with-dragons thing works, but he hasn’t run into one again. I would’ve heard the crew talking.”
Lyana ducked and sliced with her blade. Cassi jumped over it. They met back in the middle, metal ringing.
“He won’t go to the House of Peace?”
“Not yet.”
“His shipmates?”
“Let’s just say they aren’t exactly enthused about the idea of fleeing to a place where magic is forbidden. Oh—or a place that’s fifteen thousand feet in the air and ready to crumble.”
“It’s not…” Lyana protested weakly.
Cassi arched a brow.
In a burst of frustration, Lyana surged forward on the attack. Knowing exactly how to mentally and physically put Cassi on the defensive, she then asked, “Have you spoken to your mother?”
Low blow.
Cassi lifted her foot and kicked Lyana in the breastbone, forcing her back as she took to the sky. In an effort at honesty, she’d confessed to Captain Rokaro’s true identity, and not a day went by when she wished she hadn’t. Their relationship was complicated, now more than ever, and while she might have been able to ignore her mother’s obvious avoidance, Lyana wouldn’t let her. Captain Rokaro wasn’t sleeping—at least not during any of the times Cassi had tried to pay her a visit. She was hiding something, something big, and it was driving her daughter mad with curiosity.
“Obviously not, or I would’ve told you,” Cassi said, the words coming out in short bursts between quick breaths as her body grew labored with the fight. “How go things with Queen Zara?”
It was Lyana’s turn to groan. “Fine.”
“Fine?”
“In truth, I’ve stopped attending the meetings. There’s no point in just sitting there as she and Xander review logs and take notes and talk endlessly about any number of subjects I don’t care about when all I can focus on is the rift, and the magic, and the countdown running in the back of my mind.”
“Xander’s well?” Cassi asked, doing her best to keep her voice even, though just the sound of his name on her lips made her heart thunder.
Lyana rolled her eyes, unaware. “If the House of Whispers weren’t lying somewhere beneath the ocean right now, I’d say he was having the time of his life.”
For some reason, that made her chest twinge. “Oh, good.”
“Great,” her queen said, the tone implying anything but. “Except we’re not here to plan every little movement of the House of Paradise. We’re here to prevent a war. We’re here to open people’s eyes to the beauty of magic. We’re here to try to figure out how to close the rift and seal off the dragons and save the world, but no matter how much time I spend in their sacred nest with my hands pressed against the stone, I can’t figure out a gods-damned thing.”
That last word turned into a yell as she charged.
Cassi sidestepped easily. “Training is going that well, then?”
“I don’t know how to teach them.” Lyana spoke through heavy breathing, dejection evident in her tone and in her person as her blows weakened. She was, of course, talking about her army—though Cassi wasn’t sure three ravens and one bird of paradise with absolutely no experience really counted as such. “I only just learned how to use my own magic. I have no idea how to help other mages use theirs. I mean, I’m trying. Don’t get me wrong, I’m doing everything I can. But they need someone else. They need Malek and his mages. And we both know that will never happen.”
No.
Definitely not.
“And I sensed two more mages in the House of Paradise, but I’m not sure what I can do for them even if they will join me. I’m going to speak to them, if for no other reason than to lessen their fear, but I wish I could do more.
With all my magic and all my power, I’m so tired of not being able to do more.”
You and me both.
The uselessness was driving her insane. Sure, she kept Lyana informed. Sure, she tried to spy and gather intel. Sure, she acted as messenger, even though the messages had lately been few and far between. But there was only so much aimlessly floating around the sky a spirit could do before one went mad, and she was part bird for crying out loud.
She missed her body.
She missed being alive.
She missed feeling, even if all she remembered feeling lately was pain.
She missed being able to move and do and act and run and fly.
She missed having true wind beneath her wings.
As their anger grew and their muscles weakened, their attacks turned sloppy. Cassi’s body burned, but not in the way that counted. This was all in her mind, in their minds—the sweat, the exhaustion, even the pounding of her blood. And knowing that somehow made it all as useless as everything else.
Tired in more ways than one, Cassi feinted left and Lyana lunged, falling for the ruse. She hooked her sword underneath her queen’s and twisted, flinging it across the practice yard. Before she could right herself, Lyana wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled them both to the ground. They lay there, panting, as they stared at the blue sky through the crystal ceiling overhead. Another lie. They weren’t back home, just as they weren’t best friends, not anymore, as the silence stretching between them seemed to whisper.
“Lyana?” Cassi finally murmured.
“Hmm?”
“Can I ask for your blessing on something?”
Her queen dropped her head to the side. “What?”
“I’d like to try to free Elias,” she said, not giving Lyana the chance to respond as she hastily continued. “I know we said it was too dangerous before, with Malek there watching. But he’s gone now, and I just— I just— I need to do something.”
The Dragon and the Queen (The Raven and the Dove Book 3) Page 13
