Xander bit his tongue, chest ablaze with the sudden fire of fear. Rafe was right. And they both knew what the penalty might be if someone overheard them. Yet, the magic was there, invisible, hanging between them as it always was, unspoken but present.
“You know I’m right,” Xander whispered. From his pocket, he pulled the item he’d been carrying around all day—a single, crumpled ivory feather. “I found this on the bridge. I know someone was there. By the size of the footprint, I’d say it was a woman. Don’t try to tell me she fought off a dragon all by herself. What’s going on? Why won’t you talk to me?”
Rafe released a long, slow breath, his body deflating as the air left his lungs. He took the feather from Xander and touched the bristles, the barest hint of a smile on his lips. Xander frowned, curious as he watched a tender feeling play over his brother’s face—a feeling he’d never seen there before. When Rafe looked up, his eyes had a brightness that caught Xander off guard.
“You know what happened, Xander. Think about it and you’ll know, without my needing to tell you. As you said, your mind is fully intact and far sharper than mine ever was.” Rafe shoved the feather back into Xander’s hand, jaw clenching for a long moment before he opened his lips to continue, “Besides, it doesn’t matter anymore. We have bigger things to prepare for, like the trials. What’s done is done. There’s no going back.”
Rafe stepped to the side. Xander stayed by the window, watching as his brother walked to the bed and collapsed in sheer exhaustion. He turned toward the crystal city, thinking over Rafe's words.
There had been a fight. There had been a wound. There had been a woman. Of that much he was sure. And the fact that Rafe wasn’t speaking could only mean one thing—there had been magic as well. New magic. Magic that wasn’t his to share. It was the only bond between strangers that could possibly be stronger than blood.
But who?
And what?
And why?
And—
Xander cleared the questions from his mind as his eyes landed on the crystal palace looming in the center of the city.
Rafe was right.
They had more important things to worry about, more important things to focus on.
“I’m going—” Xander stopped as he swiveled to find his brother fast asleep, a bit of drool dripping onto the wing he had folded like a pillow beneath his head.
I’m going to let it go, he finished silently. I’m going to let you have this secret, because I know you wouldn’t keep it from me if it wasn’t important to you. The obsidian ring still hung from Rafe’s neck, the ring he hated to wear, the ring he was wearing solely because Xander had asked it of him. And I know the sacrifices you are making for me.
Xander walked to the edge of the bed and put the white feather on Rafe’s nightstand. He left his questions behind him, looking instead toward the future.
The courtship trials were starting in only a few hours.
And there was much they needed to do to prepare.
18
Lyana
“Are you ready for this, Ana?” Luka whispered, leaning down as he squeezed her hand tightly.
They were standing before the entrance to the royal rooms, waiting for the signal to make their descent into the atrium at the center of the palace. Luka was garbed in a crisp white overcoat embroidered with silver-and-gold thread, the colors of the House of Peace. The royal seal, a sparkling domed diamond identical to the one their father wore, was pinned like a brooch to his chest, golden band gleaming. Lyana was by his side in a flowing ivory gown with sleeves made of translucent organza, two slits running down each arm, and a back that dipped low so her dark skin acted like a frame to her unblemished snowy wings. The fabrics of their outfits were similarly detailed and in matching colors, but hers had a bit more sparkle than Luka’s, with diamonds, pearls, and gilded beads woven into the needlework.
A shiver darted up Lyana’s spine, but it wasn’t from the cold. It was the thrill of standing at the edge of the unknown, the ache of wondering what the future would bring, the anticipation of so many sleepless nights and vivid daydreams finally coming to fruition.
“I’m ready,” Lyana replied, voice strong as she squeezed her brother’s hand and turned to look into his honey eyes. “Are you?”
He shifted his gaze back to the wooden doors looming before them, the slightest hint of uncertainty on his face. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
They let go of each other’s hands and as one lifted the masks they were holding, securing them to the backs of their heads. Lyana glanced at Luka, smiling at the way his ashy feathers highlighted the richness of his skin and the warmth of his eyes, hoping her own did the same. The courtship trials were born of the more animalistic aspect of their nature, so during the tests, the heirs hid their faces behind their own molted feathers as a tribute to the gift the gods had given them—the gift of their wings—leaving only their eyes and mouths visible. The matches were supposed to be made based on strength and endurance, on intelligence and agility, on the instinctive belief between two souls that the gods had chosen them to be united—not on looks or the very human feeling of desire. The masks were only removed on the final day of the trials, when the mate selections were revealed.
“You look beautiful,” Luka murmured, tone as unsteady as his nerves. Still, beneath the edge of his mask, a smile pulled at his lips. “Not at all like the scrawny little sister I know and love.”
Lyana elbowed him in the ribs. “I’d say you look handsome, but I don’t think you need the ego boost.”
Her teasing did the trick. The grin on his lips widened and the tension in his shoulders lessened. Before he had a chance to respond, the doors in front of them swung open, turning whatever response had been rising in his throat into a gulp instead.
They’d practiced their entrance a dozen times in the past few weeks, so they didn’t need to speak as they crossed the threshold, pausing at the rail for a few moments to let the crowd waiting below take in their full splendor. Then they beat their wings in unison as they rose over the edge and descended slowly to the mosaic floor.
No matter how hard Lyana had prepared for this moment, there was no getting ready for the almost physical weight of hundreds of eyes staring at her, judging her, scrutinizing her every move. Her heart thundered, but she refused to show her nervousness. A serene smile played on her lips. Her chin remained high and proud to keep her gaze straight. The outer layers of her skirt fluttered like a set of extra wings, while the inner layers remained tightly cinched around her ankles. Part of her voluminous hair was braided like a crown over the arch of her forehead, woven with diamonds and gold lace, while the rest was loose and wispy, an elegant black halo that flounced as she flew. She looked perfect. And she knew it. The only thing that remained was sticking the landing.
Though her knees wobbled, as soon as her feet grazed the edge of the floor her legs did their job, muscles clenching to receive her weight. And Luka’s did the same. He offered her his arm, and as the Prince and Princess of the House of Peace, they walked the remaining steps to the empty thrones waiting on either side of their parents. As soon as they sat, their father stood. And, simple as that, the courtship trials had begun.