He landed on one knee at Lyana’s feet and offered her the bouquet, glancing up to meet her surprised smile with a charming lopsided grin of his own. A dimple dug into his right cheek. When she reached to accept the flowers, he brushed his fingers against hers, his olive skin warm and smooth. Before she knew whether to frown at his audacity or deepen her smile in approval, the prince disappeared, soaring to his brother’s side with a flash and also lowering into a bow.
The king jumped in quickly, as though his son’s display had been unexpected and unplanned, “May I present Damien Eurytheus, born of the god Eurythes, Crown Prince of the House of Flight. And Jayce Eurytheus, born of the god Eurythes, Prince of the House of Flight.”
Neither prince looked up as they placed the jug of hummingbird nectar in the offering basket. When they were done, their father continued with the formal statement.
“May we gift our offering to the god Aethios in the name of Eurythes, god of water and the plentiful harvest it provides. Nectar and nourishment from our homeland to keep the House of Peace well-fed, and our gratitude for all that you sacrifice on our behalf in serving our god Aethios, the highest of them all.”
The princes stood.
Damien, the crown prince, paused to glance at Lyana once more. His lips widened into a deep grin barely visible beneath the edge of his mask. When their eyes met, he tossed her a quick wink before zooming to his throne. He slouched in his seat, letting his chin rest against his fist as he settled to watch the show.
Lyana pulled her attention away, back to the door, but couldn’t stop herself from lifting the petals to her nose and taking a quick whiff.
He’s too confident by half, she thought as the scent of sweet honey filled her senses, so delicious she could almost taste the nectar the flowers produced. But when she closed her eyes, the smell shifted to one of burnt wood and dying embers, and the face she pictured wasn’t masked, but open, honest, and vulnerable in a way that this crown prince could never be.
Two more houses to go before her big reveal.
Two more houses of excruciating anticipation.
Two more houses and then her mate would appear.
19
Rafe
Three houses down, Rafe thought, shivering in the cold as he huddled close to the bonfires they’d set up in the streets in an attempt to keep the wait a little warmer.
It wasn’t working.
He needed to move. Needed to get his blood flowing. Needed to focus. Because the next few days would decide the future of his house and his brother’s life, and he needed to be ready. As he stared at the doors towering a hundred feet away, however, all he could think about was who might be waiting on the other side with white wings that were just another pair in the crowd.
Was she in there?
Was she watching?
Would she see?
Not that it mattered. He’d be gone in a few days, home. She’d stay here. They’d never see each other again. But even as he reminded himself of those simple facts, Rafe’s mind wandered to her silken fingers as they shifted over his skin, running through his feathers, emanating a prickling heat only someone with magic could understand.
“Where are you going?” one of his raven guards asked. There were twelve waiting with him, uninterested in trying to pretend he was their prince. They stood by his side only because Xander had ordered them to be part of the show.
“Huh?” Rafe blinked away the vision of green eyes as he returned to the world, glancing down toward the voice. He was five feet in the air, wings pumping, and he hadn’t even realized it. “Oh, um…”
The guard frowned at him. Without Xander, there was no need to keep up the pretense that they had any affection for him at all. But in an odd way, Rafe preferred this to the careful show they usually put on. He’d rather be honestly hated than dishonestly tolerated, especially when it meant he didn’t have to pretend either.
“I’m going to take a peek,” he said as he pushed hard with his wings, not giving the ravens any time to stop him as he soared into the air, rising over the entrance hall to look through the domed crystal roof and at the floor below, genuinely curious.
The House of Prey had shown up unlike any of the other houses—their crown princess and sole heir had come alone. No performers. No posse. No help. That alone had piqued Rafe’s interest. Add the fact they were also the first house without an obvious act, and he was sold. The House of Song would, well, sing. The House of Paradise would, no doubt, flit and flaunt their extra plumes. And the House of Flight would… Well, whatever they performed, he was sure half the nectar they’d been carrying would end up in their stomachs by the end of the show.
But the House of Prey? They were notoriously isolated, even from each other. Aggressive in a way the other houses weren’t. Their royal family lived alone in a castle at the center of their great hunting plains, while the rest of the families lived scattered through the woods. They’d be presenting furs as an offering, but the performance portion? That was a mystery.
When the doors opened, Rafe could see the blurred outline of the crown princess as she soared into the entrance hall, rich, brown eagle’s wings larger than any he’d seen before. She kept them wide as she floated through the crowd, not even bothering to pump because, well, birds of prey didn’t have to. The skinned carcass of a bear was draped over her shoulders, its head worn like a hood as she drifted, unbothered by the weight. Soon enough, she disappeared into the hollow of the atrium. Rafe caught a glimpse of her wings lazily flapping as she rose, no doubt circling the palace core, and then he saw her twice more at the very end of a death dive, rearing back seconds before her head splattered against the floor, not once losing hold of the fur on her back.
Rafe dropped back to the ground as he imagined the words being said inside by the King of the House of Prey, an eagle just like his daughter: May I present Thea Pallieus, born of the god Pallius, Crown Princess of the House of Prey. May we gift our offering to the god Aethios in the name of Pallius, god of the hunt. A bear skin and other furs to keep you gentle doves nice and warm in this barren winter wasteland you’ve been forced to call home, all so someone is around to give the ever-demanding Aethios the endless amounts of love and attention he requires so that he doesn’t drop all of our homes from the sky and let them vanish in the Sea of Mist.
Or, well, something like that.
Rafe sighed as his feet touched gravel, shifting his weight from one side to the other, anxious to reach the end of the night. The more quickly the trials came to an end, the more quickly he could put the ring back around his brother’s neck, go home, and forget this trip ever happened.
The towering front door of the crystal palace slid open, and the troop of owls that had been in line before him disappeared inside. He’d overheard their crown prince’s name, Nico, as well as that of his sister, Coralee, and he already knew the House of Wisdom’s offering would be a carafe of oil and a blank parchment where all the mate matches would be recorded at the end of the trials to be taken to their secret library for safekeeping. They were the guardians of history, the archivists and academics, serving Meteria, the god of intellect, which of course meant their performance would be a total snore—and something he had no interest in observing.