“You asked me to apologize,” Rafe said as he ran his fingers up her arm, watching her body respond to him, her muscles flexing as she leaned closer. “Do you remember that?”
“Actually, I ordered it, but you refused.”
“I couldn’t,” he confessed, not meeting her eyes, because he knew the second he did, he’d give in. He’d let everything melt away until nothing existed outside of him and her and whatever this was between them—no magic, no monsters, no prophecy. It had become his new deepest fear. Not loving her, but the awareness that in his love he might let the world burn. “At the time, I told myself it was because I wanted you to be angry with me, to hate me, but the truth is, I wasn’t sorry. I’ve never been sorry for a single moment we’ve spent together.”
He was only ever sorry for all the times they’d had to say goodbye—like now. The apology stuck in his throat as he ripped his hand away from her and stepped back, turning his face to the side. Lyana let him retreat, because she knew, same as he, that though the stakes had changed and the players were different, the game remained the same. They were two souls on a crash course, ready to combust, but their collision might set the world aflame.
If he wasn’t the King Born in Fire, then he was a distraction.
If he was, they couldn’t lose themselves to passion, the way they had once before. It would cost them too much.
Rafe ran his hand through his hair, pulling in a deep breath as he searched for a distraction, any distraction, from the heat coursing through his veins. A spot of glimmering onyx caught his eye, dousing his rising desire as thoroughly as a cold shower. An icy chill struck him.
“Where’d you get that?” he asked, already reaching for the dagger at her waist. He hadn’t seen it in years, but the hilt formed by open raven wings was unmistakable.
“Oh.” She jumped and grabbed the weapon before he did, then pulled it from her belt and offered it to him immediately. “I should’ve started with this, Rafe. I’m sorry. Xander gave it to me, to give to you.”
His throat tightened with emotion as he lifted the weapon from her hand. “He did?”
“He said he loves you, and he’s sorry, and there’s nothing to forgive.”
“He said that?”
She nodded, curiosity sparking like golden highlights in her eyes. But she didn’t ask. She didn’t intrude, even as he collapsed into a nearby seat, his legs no longer strong enough to hold him, the enormity of the gesture leaving him overwhelmed.
“It was a gift from our father,” he said anyway, the words so insufficient they almost made him want to laugh.
The dagger felt different from what he remembered, more balanced in his hands, lighter, less awkward. Then again, he hadn’t held it since he was a boy. It probably wasn’t the dagger that had changed, but him. If memory served, he and Xander had been fighting when their father cornered them in the practice yards to present the gift, a matching set, one for each of them. He’d made them promise to remain true to one another, to put blood above all else, to remember they were brothers no matter how the world tried to come between them.
He forgives me.
For not being truthful. For sneaking around with Lyana. For running away.
And he’s sorry.
There was only one thing Xander could have been apologizing for—allowing him to leave.
And he loves me.
Rafe drew in a shuddering breath and tightened his grip on the hilt. “Did you tell him what I am?”
“You’re the same Rafe you’ve always been, thinking the worst about yourself despite all the evidence to the contrary.”
“Lyana,” he murmured, no humor in his tone. “Did you tell him what I am?”
She sighed. “I did.”
“And he gave you the dagger after?”
“He did.”
He doesn’t care. The realization pulsed through him like a shock wave. He knows about my wings. He knows about my soul. He knows, and he doesn’t care.
A thousand pounds seemed to lift from his shoulders, but instead of feeling invigorated, Rafe slumped forward in exhaustion until his now-flameless leathery wings dragged along the floor. He felt as though he’d been fighting for months, straining and struggling to carry this burden, and now that it was gone, he could breathe, yes, but he could finally rest too.
“Rafe.” Lyana took his free hand, wrapping their fingers together. “You look tired. When’s the last time you slept?”
“I’m not sure.”
The past few days were a blur—fighting Malek, retreating to the House of Peace, and racing to the House of Paradise, then battling in the sacred nest and waiting endless hours for Lyana to return. All his focus had been on connecting with the creatures to make sure they remained far away, to ensure they wouldn’t touch her while she was gone. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d closed his eyes or the last time he’d truly slept a whole night not plagued by nightmares.
“You should rest,” she said.
There was so much to do. “I’m fine.”
“Well, I’m not,” she bit back, the arch to her brow promising an argument if he didn’t relent. Rafe remembered the look well, yet he couldn’t find the will to fight. She always seemed to push him whenever he needed it most. “We’ll be of no use to anyone if we’re exhausted and delirious. Come on.”
Lyana pulled him toward the bed, not giving him the opportunity to say no as she dragged him across the room. Rafe stumbled behind her, his heart heavy. The pillows and blankets were as inviting as ever, especially after Lyana released him to crawl across the mattress and lie down. He stopped with his shins against the frame, frozen in place. There was nothing he wanted more than to take the spot by her side and wrap his arms around her, but what—
“It’s just a bed, Rafe.” Lyana sighed, reading every tumultuous thought in his mind. “And we’re just going to sleep. I promise, the world will still be there when we wake up.”
She was right.
Still, nerves tightened in his chest as he reached for the mesh blanket folded at the end of the bed, the one Brighty had stolen. It was made to stifle fire, and he never went anywhere without it, not anymore. Lyana watched him silently as he tossed the heavy drape over his side of the bed, putting a barrier between his wings and the highly flammable blankets, just in case. Awareness lit her eyes, tinged with an edge of sadness, as she ran her fingers over the material, recognizing what it was. Rafe swallowed the knot in his throat and sank into the spot beside her, careful to keep his arms to himself, but Lyana had different plans. The second he put his head upon the pillow, she rolled closer, wrapping an arm around his torso and pressing her cheek to the hollow of his neck. As their legs tangled together, he stopped trying to resist and slid an arm behind her back to pull her closer. He buried his face in her hair and breathed in her scent. Everything about the two of them felt so right. The way their bodies fit. The way their spirits calmed. The way their heartbeats slowed, coming together until they thumped softly to the same rhythm, almost as though made for one another.
Within moments, they both fell asleep.
He flew across a frozen landscape, the snow glowing cerulean in the moonlight, glistening with the reflection of the stars. The night was quiet. Ahead, a cluster of crystal domes marred the otherwise barren landscape, resting along the edge where ice and rock gave way to sky.
They were there.
He could feel them.
One of the buildings shone bright white against the night, a group of people visible through the translucent walls, laughing and talking. He stuck to the shadows, keeping out of sight. No one noticed him. Few ever did.
They were somewhere else.
He crept across the darkness, following the connection at the back of his mind, whispering of nearness. A dark dome loomed ahead, larger than the rest but absolutely still. He pressed his nose to the crystals, unfazed by the cold, and peered inside. Even without the assistance of the moon upon her luminous wings, he would have seen them. They
curled together on the bed, fused from head to toe, no sense of where one started or the other ended, just limbs and feathers and fire. His wings simmered, casting a subtle orange glow about the room. Their bodies rose and fell to the same cadence.
An unfamiliar feeling stirred deep within, making his hands curl into fists as his every muscle tensed. Thus far, he’d been living in this world based on instinct, moving from one meal to the next, but now the human bits within him rose to the surface, promising retribution.
He’d left them for her.
He’d cut them for her.
Someday, he’d regret that decision.
Claws scratched upon crystal, carving deep grooves into the rock. The squeal mirrored the cry inside his heart, his newly awakened emotions wreaking havoc as he—
Rafe gasped and sat up, his pulse hammering like thunder as he turned toward the crystal wall, but no one was there. Moonlight and shadow danced across the frozen land, unbroken and unblemished, nothing but endless tundra and empty air. The fire upon his wings intensified, chasing the darkness of the room away. He searched the corners, the crevices, every hollow, but the night was still.
“Rafe?” Lyana murmured sleepily by his side, her body protesting his absence. “Is everything okay?”
“It’s fine,” he whispered as he settled back down, pulling her into his arms. “Shh.”
Within moments, she was fast asleep.
Rafe rested his head upon hers, trying to let the brush of her breath and the steady pulse beneath his hands calm him, but it was futile. Every shift in the shadows drew his eye. Every sound stirred his thoughts. He stared ahead, not entirely sure what he was searching for until the starlight caught the crystal just right, illuminating five jagged grooves—a message drawn for his eyes alone.
They were coming.
For him.
For Lyana.
For the world.
And he had better not be asleep when they did.
32
Cassi
Time passed in a blur, the minutes, hours, and days blending together until Cassi had no sense of how long she’d been trapped. The room was a haze. Her vision had long since gone bleary, and her mind was too strained to focus. The world passed in shades of shadow and light, in splashes of cold water and pricks of hot spears, in loud shouts and blissful oblivion. She could no longer feel her legs or her arms, was unsure if she stood or lay down, was unaware if she slept or remained awake or hovered somewhere in between.
“Cassi,” Lyana called, appearing as if from a dream. “Cassi, hold on. Be strong.”
Heal me, she tried to say. Help me.
The golden magic never came.
“It’s what you deserve,” Rafe spat as he hovered over her. “You did this to yourself.”
I didn’t, she tried to argue. I want to help.
He was gone before he could listen, replaced by his brother, the two of them so very similar and yet so different.
Xander! she called. Xander!
He couldn’t hear. No matter how she shouted, he just stood there, absent-eyed, as though he didn’t see her, or worse, didn’t care.
I have something I need to tell you! Something important!
But what?
She couldn’t remember anymore.
Malek’s voice was the loudest and the most frequent, but his requests were nonsense. “How’s the prisoner? Has she slept? Is she conscious? Don’t do that again unless I’m here to heal her. Use the water instead. Has the boy stopped fighting? Did she say anything? Did you hear anything? Leave us. Tell me if her condition changes. Again.”
Other times, he threaded his fingers through her hair and leaned so close she could feel his lips upon her skin as he whispered, “I’m sorry, Kasiandra. There’s no other way. I don’t want to hurt you. You forced my hand. You’ll feel better soon. I’ll help you.”
Power flooded into her veins, just enough for her to make out his tumultuous blue eyes, and then the storm would crash over her again, the waves dragging her under, until sounds and sights and smells faded, lost to the oblivion.
Come back! Come back!
Silence.
33
Xander
The desert stretched before Xander in rolling hills of endless orange. Sweat dripped from his brow, the sun blazing against his black wings. A lone river cut through the monotony, flanked by vibrant patches of green. Far in the distance, along its bank, a bustling metropolis bloomed, bursting with color and buzzing with movement. It was no mirage. Though the heat and the sand had played tricks on him earlier, there was no mistaking Abaelon, the City of Life, the capital of the House of Flight.
Xander swallowed, his pulse hitching with the awareness of how exposed he’d soon be. The plan he and Helen had devised was risky, but he didn’t see another way. Lyana had never sent Cassi to his dreams, so he’d never been able to inform her of the earthquakes on the hummingbird isle. Helen was the only person he trusted to carry the message, so he’d sent her to the House of Peace and traveled to the House of Flight alone. Sure, he could have brought guards or advisors or any other sort of entourage, and now, as the city loomed, he was starting to question his sanity, but the truth was he needed to prove himself—to the hummingbirds, to the other houses, and even to himself.
This is going to work. He silently tried to convince himself. You have no choice but to make it work.
The bad blood between the House of Whispers and the House of Flight was undeniable. Prince Damien had been Lyana’s intended mate before she pulled her stunt at the matching ceremony. He’d been snubbed, forced to pair with the owl princess instead. Even before that, the prince and Rafe had butted heads. And the poor relationship continued. The royal family hadn’t sent for Xander when the earthquakes began. In fact, they seemed to go above and beyond to ensure he wouldn’t find out. If not for a letter from Queen Zara informing him of the news, he might never have known. They clearly didn’t wish for his or Lyana’s help, despite how obviously they needed it. Yet hummingbirds were notoriously loud and boastful, quick to anger but also quick to defuse, given the right circumstances. They were a house more ready for a celebration than a confrontation, so if he played his cards right, he could convince them.
At least, that was what he told himself as he soared into Abaelon.
Gardens covered towering sandstone buildings, green foliage brilliant against the honey backdrop. Flowers of every color spilled over the edges of the tiered levels, while rows upon rows of columns stood wrapped in various vines. An endless supply of water trickled like music in the background, flowing through the intricate network of aqueducts spread across the vast city. Fountains and layered streams twinkled in the sun. The winds from the desert howled, making the palm trees sway. Against that movement, darting faster than the eye could follow, hummingbirds zipped through the sky, their wings little more than blurred swathes of color at their backs as they raced from terrace to terrace, cultivating their crops, delivering messages, and just living life at a speed ten times faster than everybody else.
In comparison, Xander clambered slowly through the air, his black wings standing out not just for their color, but for their seemingly lazy flight. If not for the crown of onyx feathers nestled on his brow, he was sure someone would have stopped him. Instead, they waited and watched as he made his way to the palace looming in the center of the city.
The building was at least twenty stories high, shaped like a pyramid, the tiers growing smaller and smaller as they stretched into the sky. Unlike the rest of the city, it shone brilliantly white against the cloudless blue sky, the sandstone covered in marble quarried from the mountains. The effect would have been blinding if not for the hanging plants and foliage draped over every inch of the exterior, as though the palace were alive. Two enormous waterfalls framed the front entrance, the central lifeline of the irrigation system, pumped directly from the river itself. Xander had read all about the engineering, but the drawings in his books hadn’t done the system justice. He adore
d his home, even if it was now buried beneath the sea, yet the more he came to learn about the rest of his floating world, the more he understood how relatively quaint his isle had been, just another reason the ravens had been easy to overlook.
Today, the hummingbirds would learn the true strength of his people.
They would discover exactly how memorable a raven could be.
Embracing his fear and wearing it like a shield, Xander swept into the courtyard before the palace. He landed at a stride on the marble tiles, his boots loud as he stomped toward the door. Before he made it halfway across, a hum filled the air. Shadows flickered beneath the sun, whizzing overhead as bodies flooded in from the terraces. By the time he blinked, he was surrounded. Guards hovered in formation above the courtyard, each with an arrow trained precisely on him.
Don’t act afraid, he silently determined.
Don’t give them the satisfaction.
Be brave. Be bold.
Be yourself.
It was a point of pride that his steps didn’t falter. Paying the display no mind, he continued on his path until he stood at the base of the short stack of stairs leading up to the wide veranda of columns and trees. Through it, the doors to the palace were just barely visible. The waterfalls sprayed water thunderously into the air. Xander cupped his hands around his lips and prayed someone would hear him over the noise.
“I am King Lysander Taetanus of the House of Whispers, and I’ve come for an audience with King Axos and Queen Odehlia of the House of Flight.”
Then he waited.
The air thrummed with the movement of wings, but the hummingbirds remained in place, hovering menacingly above him. No doors opened. No emissaries appeared. Xander stood with his feet braced and his spine straight, prepared to stay there all day until he was acknowledged. In the end, it didn’t take nearly so long.
The Dragon and the Queen (The Raven and the Dove Book 3) Page 24
