"You might not believe me, but I don't take pleasure in your pain, Aleksander. Everything I do is for the good of the world. It's inevitable that there should be some hurt feelings along the way."
Rafe flinched, understanding how Brighty felt at the sound of her real name—as though an arrow had slipped through a small break in his defenses to pierce his heart. He wasn't that person anymore. Neither was she. Of course, that was the entire point. It allowed the king to give the first strike.
He didn’t ask how the man knew. Maybe Cassi had learned it. Maybe he had other spies in the House of Whispers. It mattered little.
"I'm at a disadvantage," Rafe said instead, thrilled at the hint of surprise written on the man's face. "You know my name, but I've yet to learn yours."
"King Malek’da’Nerri, though you may call me my liege."
"You're not my king."
"Until you have the means to return to your world above the mist, I'm afraid I am, which brings us to the point of this little gathering. You want your wings back. I have the magic to return them to you. But I won't, unless you do something for me in return."
"What?" What could he possibly do that this man couldn't do already?
"I've tasked Captain Rokaro with catching a dragon alive and bringing it to me so that my mages and I might study it. We'd like to learn how they communicate with each other, how their magic and their fire work. I want you to help her, to learn about her crew and about this world, to listen to her instructions and do as she says. And when you come back to Da'Kin with a dragon in tow, we can see about your wings."
"That's it?"
The king shrugged. "What can I say? I'm a simple man."
Rafe snorted. He'd spent his life praying to the god of chance—he knew a trick when he saw one. There was no way the king had gone to so much trouble bringing him down to this world just for help catching a dragon. The gods, he was more a hindrance on the ship than a help. They might have caught the last one if he hadn't leapt into action, or they might have all been killed, but still. What could he do that a whole crew of magical sailors couldn't?
Nothing.
"Give me a dragon," the king murmured, dangling the words like bait. "And I'll give you back the sky."
"What's the catch?"
"No catch. My promise is true."
My ass it is, Rafe silently cursed.
The king leaned closer, sensing his wavering mind. "A man is only as good as his word."
"I know a lot of men who think otherwise."
"Not this man." He straightened, gaze boring into Rafe as though he could see into his soul, into all the dark thoughts and insecurities he'd spent his life trying to hide. "I grow tired of this debate. Give me an answer, now. Do you agree or not?"
No.
No.
No.
No.
"Yes." The black wings resting on the table were ripe for the taking, too good to pass up. The king was toying with him, Rafe was certain, but he would deal with the consequences when they came. If it meant getting his wings back, the price hardly mattered. "I agree."
"Good. Jacinta!" The door opened and a woman walked in, her long black hair as straight as a sword's edge, the bangs across her forehead severe against her pale skin. "Please, escort our guest back to his ship. We're done here."
The binds clasped around him again, this time yanking him to a standing position.
"Wait!" Rafe fought against the magic, even as his feet took step after step against his will. "I have questions."
"And I'm sure someone else will answer them for you. I lack both the time and the desire to do so."
"What are you doing with Lyana?" Rafe said anyway, expecting to be cut off at any moment. "Please, I need to see her. I need to speak with her."
"Don't worry, Aleksander," the king said, voice just as steady as ever, though a light pierced his dark eyes, giving them a wicked gleam. "One day soon, you will."
"Wh—"
He didn't have a chance to finish. A band of metal wrapped around his lips, sealing off the sound, as four more came around his ankles and wrists. Green sparks filled the air and the woman pulled on the cuffs. The last thing Rafe saw was the slight curl to the king's mouth as he was dragged forcefully from the room.
22
Lyana
His chest rose and fell beneath her palm, up and down, up and down, in a mesmerizing rhythm. Nestled against his side with her cheek pressed to his skin, Lyana listened to the steady beat of Rafe's heart. He was deep in slumber while she lay wide awake. Her mind buzzed too wildly for rest, and she slipped her gaze down the length of his bare chest, over the defined ridges of his abdomen, down, down, down to the very tips of his toes, and back up.
How could he sleep at a time like this?
Lyana trailed her fingers over his skin, amazed at the feel of him, hard and smooth. His muscles flexed at her touch, as though stirred to life, and a light trail of goose bumps followed her movement. In the deep grooves of his abdomen, light and dark battled, gaining and losing ground with each breath. She traced the shadows, wanting to linger in the night, in this moment. Every inch of his body was like untouched terrain, a new world just waiting to be explored. All her life spent searching for adventure, and here in his arms, for the first time she wondered if maybe it wasn't a place she should have been yearning for but a person instead, a man with enough mystery and wonder to fill the rest of her days.
She knew the moment he woke up.
His entire body tensed and his heart thundered. Lyana took her time swirling her rogue hand up his abdomen and his chest, until her fingers found the soft tendrils of his hair and she looked into his face. Two eyes watched her, as blue as the clearest sky, as warm as the sun, more tempting than any distant horizon.
"Ana?" His voice brought a shiver to her skin.
"Rafe."
She moved against him, inching closer, until their noses nearly touched. His gaze was steady and waiting, almost unsure, and she realized he didn’t know what was coming next. There was a hint of fear, as though he worried she was about to say goodbye. But the moon still hung low in the sky, dawn a faraway thing, and she preferred to keep it that way.
"I think…" Those three sacred words hovered at the edge of her tongue, fighting to be said, just as they danced across his eyes, bright and burning. Had they gone mad? Was that what this was? They'd only known each other for a few short weeks, mostly in stolen moments and secret meetings, yet here they were, free-falling into unknown territory together. Maybe it was love. Maybe it was something else. They'd never know for sure, their time like a dream cut short, like a blossom clipped before it could bloom, the smallest hint of something that could've one day been so much more. Saying those words would only make things harder, so she covered her sorrow with a grin. "You're snoring."
Disappointment flashed across his face, quickly replaced by relief. He, too, wanted to pretend their hearts weren't on the cusp of breaking. "I am not."
"You are. It’s horrible, like a monster clawing at my ears. I can't sleep."