The raven stirred.
Lyana snatched back her fingers, clutching her hand to her chest. But she couldn’t look away as he shifted, groaning in pain twice before falling still once more.
A light flashed from the ground near his neck.
A reflection, she realized as she watched a flame blink on and off and on and off, oscillating. Lyana put down the lantern and reached for the spot, curious as to what had caused the sudden glow.
Shock stole her breath for a second time as she lifted a ring from the rocks, studying the smooth planes of midnight stone, recognizing it immediately—a royal seal. Her father’s was similar, but it was carved from clear diamond, arched into a dome resembling their palace. This gem was so dark it seemed to devour the firelight, smothering the glow with shadow. And the cut was different, in the shape of a V with two tall lines extending from a point and a valley stretching between them. The seal of the House of Whispers.
He’s a prince.
She dropped the ring and sat up, hardly registering as it clinked against the ground. Her mind raced, flashing to the many conversations with Luka and the advisors, when they discussed all the houses and all the royal families—all her possible mates. The House of Whispers only had one heir, a male raven.
He’s the crown prince. Lyana’s eyes widened. The one who’s supposed to be participating in the courtship trials.
Suddenly, everything became clear—why the ravens had asked for a delay, why they had lied about the dragon fight, why they had needed more time.
A shiver ran across the sensitive spot at the base of her neck, making her hair stand on end. Her mind stilled. Her body paused. The sensation crawled over her shoulders, down her back, pulsing with undeniable anticipation, a sizzle firing to life beneath her skin.
Lyana looked away from the ring.
And stared directly into the raven’s open cerulean eyes.
10
Rafe
He remembered her face as though it had come from a dream—those brilliant green eyes that seemed to sparkle like distant stars as they looked down at him in concern. In the memory, her face had been silhouetted by the sun, but he realized now that it was just her natural color, dark and rich, with golden highlights enhanced by the warm fire.
Who was she?
Where had she come from?
The longer they looked at each other, the more space the questions seemed to fill, spreading through his thoughts until he forgot who he was, where he was, aware of nothing but this mysterious beauty before him. His own eyes began to sting, yet he couldn’t blink. He didn’t want to break this moment, didn’t want to end whatever was happening—the undercurrent throbbing in the air between them.
She smiled. Soft, nervous laughter spilled from her lips. Then she glanced away, her bashful gaze dropping to the ground as her shoulders bent forward and her wings curved around her arms as though she were trying to hide.
Rafe moved, attempting to lift his chest from the floor and turn.
Just like that, everything came rushing back.
He hissed with pain as his battered wings cried out, as his healing body shouted at him to lie still, as his heart thundered in his chest, all the worry and fear and panic returning.
“The dragon.” He forced the words up his dry throat and through his shivering lips. “What happened to the dragon? What happened to my—” He stopped, catching himself in time. “To my people?”
What he really wanted to say was, to my brother.
Xander. Xander.
Was he all right? Had he gotten away? Was he safe?
Rafe’s blood pounded through his veins, hot and painful. A groan left him as he pushed against the stones, trying to heave his body to a seated position—he had to get up, he had to go. There was no time to waste. Xander needed him. The ravens needed him. No amount of pain would stop him.
“Stay down,” the girl instructed. Her warm palm pressed his shoulder back. “Be still before you make everything worse. The dragon is gone. There was no one there but you. And that happened hours ago.”
“It’s gone?” he asked, breath coming in short spurts as his tired body conquered his will. Rafe’s muscles gave out and he collapsed on the floor, still trembling with cold. “How? When?”
A wider smile danced across the girl’s face as she shrugged. “I scared it off.”
Despite the injuries, the pain, and the dire situation, Rafe snorted, eying her skinny arms and small frame. “You?”
She drew herself up indignantly, arching a brow. “Yes, me. And you’re lucky I was there, because a minute longer and you would have been the fire god’s next victim.”
A shudder coursed through him, the first provoked not by the cool air prickling his skin, but from the icy dread piercing his heart. Rafe remembered. The fire. The claw digging into his gut. His body slamming into the ground. The crunching of his bones echoed through his memory, only drowned by the sound of his screams as they ripped their way from his gut out into the world.
But then it had all stopped.
The pain had been there, but not the beast. He had seen her face, then heard her mutter words he couldn’t make out over the ringing in his ears. After that, there had been nothing, blank space, until awakening now in a place saturated by shadow.
“Would you like some water?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts.
“Please.”
Moving slowly this time, he pushed up again, easing his chest from the ground, wincing as his broken wings scraped against rock, every movement a new source of torment. Hands gripped his shoulders, helping him. A trickle of heat tingled down his arms and across his chest, flaring hot at the spot where his wings met his back and dulling some of the ache.
Rafe froze.
The girl swallowed audibly.
Glancing over his shoulder, he found her eyes through the soft golden glow of undeniable magic. They were wary of him, yet defiant. Cautious, yet unafraid. Bold in a way that was slightly unnerving.
“You…” He trailed off, blinking and shaking his head, trying to remember. His chin dipped as he looked at his abdomen, at the deep maroon stain on his leathers, the gaping puncture wound through the melted material, and the exposed sliver of intact flesh. “You… On the bridge…” He’d thought he was going to die. The wound was massive, undoubtedly fatal even with his magic. He’d lost a lot of blood. Vital organs had been slashed. Yet, here he was. Rafe stared into those dazzling eyes again. “You healed me.”
The girl surveyed his frame, his cheeks, his arms, the bits of skin peeping through the scraps of fabric that clung to him—bits that he suddenly realized glimmered with the proof of his own power. Xander had never been able to see the glow of magic beneath his skin, but apparently, this mysterious stranger could.
“Looks to me like you healed yourself," she remarked.
He didn’t deny it.
Then again, she didn’t either.
The girl looked away and reached into a pack Rafe had just noticed, pulling out a water jug. She held it aloft like a peace offering, like a truce.
He accepted, taking it with a nod.
No one except Xander knew about his magic. In fact, Xander had been the one to point it out. After Rafe had been found underneath the charred bodies of his parents, Xander had ordered the castle guards to carry him up to his rooms. The left side of Rafe’s body, the part his mother’s thin frame had been unable to protect, had been badly burned. He remembered very little of what had happened, hardly anything except the pain. Xander had ordered the royal doctor to use every drop of salve from the House of Paradise on his wounds. They had wrapped his body in bandages, praying to Taetanos he would last the night. When they had returned the next day to repeat the process, his skin was nearly healed. The ravens had never looked at him the same way after that. They had said he belonged to the fire god. They had chanted for his death.