By the time her companions landed, Lyana was at a third tree, this one with bark the color of her wings, stark against the curtain of green but striped with brown.
“What is it?” she called without turning to see who waited on the ground beneath her.
The snark in the reply was familiar. “A tree.”
Lyana met Cassi’s gaze with a pointed one of her own. “I know that…”
She cut herself short when a flash of yellow caught her attention, the tree forgotten as she raced to a flower bed, reaching down to run her thumb along a smooth, bright petal. Lyana breathed deeply, a smile passing over her lips as the scent of honey drifted to her nose. “What are these?”
Before anyone could answer, a spot of red berries also drew her eyes. “And these?”
Then a fallen tree, covered in patches of minty stains. “And this?
“And that?
“And those?
“And—”
“Ana!” Cassi finally interrupted, shouting across the forest. “You’re making me dizzy. You’re making us dizzy.”
Lyana hovered in midair and spun, finally remembering she wasn’t alone, and this wasn’t a secret exploration back home. She had an audience—a group of patient guards, a queen who looked unimpressed, a prince who looked amused, and a sullen raven she refused to look at, even for a second. She was supposed to be a princess. Dignified. Controlled. A figurehead.
But—
But—
Oh, I don’t care! Lyana thought as she dropped to the ground, leaves crunching beneath her feet, a sound she’d never heard before—and wasn’t it marvelous? Princess or not, she threw her arms and wings to the side, resisting the urge to spin around, but just barely. “Oh, Cassi, come on. This is amazing!” Lyana shifted her gaze to her mate, brows drawing together. “Don’t you think this is amazing?”
His smile deepened, but he didn’t answer.
Queen Mariam stepped forward, instead. “While I imagine this is quite different from what you’re used to, daughter of Aethios, the sun is beginning to set, and we must be going.”
Lyana kept her eyes on the prince, giving him the chance to defend her, to prove himself, to soar across the clearing, grab her hand, and whisk her on a grand tour of the isle, to surprise her. Thus far, her mate had been a man who had allowed someone else to fight his battles, who had run from a dragon and from the courtship trials, who hadn’t had the nerve to stand up for himself, let alone for her.
She wanted more from him.
She needed more from him.
Especially when, hard as she tried not to, she was comparing him to someone else, someone she’d promised not to look at or think about or speak to ever again.
She ignored the pleading expression from her friend and quietly asked, “Lysander?”
His smile twitched as his focus jumped back and forth between his mother and his mate, the silence stretching. And then his shoulders dropped ever so slightly. “We really should be going, Princess.”
Lyana fought the sensation that the wind had been stolen from her wings, a plummeting sort of feeling. But her sigh was audible, and she couldn’t keep her face from drooping along with her feathers. “Yes, of course,” she murmured, catching Cassi’s eye for a moment before quickly sliding hers away. “Let’s be on our way.”
Lyana didn’t miss the quick motion of an ebony wing stretching and shoving the prince forward an inch, but she refused to look at the source of the gesture. Her mind wandered where her eyes would not, drifting back to the night where her hands were pressed against his bare skin, in the muscular valley between his wings. Lyana blinked the vision away, focusing only on the words he’d spoken as he told her of his home—the mountains, the river, the city nestled in a valley, and the godly entrance to another world.
“Taetanos’s Gate,” Lyana exclaimed suddenly, some of her enthusiasm returning as she remembered the House of Whispers had much more to offer than the forest around her. “Oh, can we see it? Please? Even just from the air?”
“Who told you—” Lysander broke off abruptly, turning toward his half brother.
This time, Lyana couldn’t help turning to the man she tried to remember was Rafe, and not Lysander. Rafe. Rafe.
What kind of name is that? she spat silently, clinging to every ounce of wrath she could muster, because anger was so much easier to deal with than all the other emotions swirling like a storm in her chest. Rafe? More like rude, repugnant, repulsive, re-, re-, re-
Real.
Rare.
Lyana shook her head to clear it, but her eyes remained glued to him. He’d turned away, presenting them with his profile as he stared into the woods. Lyana had a sneaking suspicion that if he’d dared to meet her gaze, she would have seen the same memory reflected in his eyes as was playing in hers. The two of them in their own world, a halo of light in a cave of darkness, something that now seemed little more than a dream—one that lingered in her waking hours, rather than fading blissfully into the realm of the forgotten.
Don’t think about it.
Don’t think about him.
Much as she’d loathed his delivery of sharp words the night before, Lyana couldn’t deny they were true. He wasn’t her friend, or her confidante, or her anything. A fact that had never been more evident than in this moment, standing in this clearing with the far-to-curious interest of the flock shifting between them. For the sake of her happiness, Rafe had to be nothing. For the sake of her mate, she had to bury him away.
The prince cleared his throat as the uncomfortable silence lengthened.
Lyana pulled her gaze from one raven and switched it to the other, remembering what Rafe had called the prince the night before. Xander. She liked it better than Lysander, because it was new and light, not full of foolish wishes that would never come true.
He was her future.
He was her mate.
She was determined to give their life a chance.
“Xander,” she said, testing the name, enjoying how it rolled from her lips, a little hesitant and unsure, just like they were about each other. His eyes softened, losing their edge. “Will you show me?”
35
Xander
He must have held his breath the rest of the way through the mountains. The sweeping forests of his homeland were mostly uninhabited, gliding up and down in sharp ridges and some barren cliffs, even a few snow-capped peaks that remained through summer. Most of his people chose to live in the valley, in the city of Pylaeon, where the castle was nestled. They were the least populated isle and the smallest, though the journey seemed endless as his eyes continued to drift to the princess time and time again. His chest felt tight, his mind unable to erase the disappointment flashing through her face—disappointment at him.
Please be impressed, he thought as the thundering of water made its way to his ear, signaling they were almost there.
Please be impressed.
By the view? By his home? By him?
Xander wasn’t really sure.
All he knew was that when they crested the final peak, he heard her gasp, and it was one of the sweetest sounds he could ever remember. When he glanced in her direction, a warm feeling spread inside him as he saw her wide, dazzled eyes and the mouth that had opened in wonder. Her wings beat faster, led by her excitement, but the rest of her remained still as she took in the scene.