The Dragon and the Queen (The Raven and the Dove Book 3) Page 5

  Gasps filled the air as Xander and Lyana landed in the city center, followed by screams as the rest of the flock swooped in behind, black wings out of place in a land made of color. While the raven castle had been fortified by a massive wall, the House of Song was a peaceful place not made for war. No partition separated the palace from the populace. Nothing was there to stop Lyana and Xander from marching up the front steps and breaking down the door—nothing but decorum. He half expected Lyana to charge, but she remained by his side and slid her fingers through his, squeezing his palm once. When he turned to meet her gaze, her green eyes were filled with challenge. The message was clear. She would give him his chance for diplomacy, but if it didn't work, all bets were off.

  Please work.

  Xander swallowed as the massive front door of the palace swung open.

  Please, please work.

  A man dripping in gems and silk stepped through. Every inch of him gleamed in the sunlight. His jacket was a study in golden embroidery, his crushed velvet trousers a deep maroon. Ruby broaches and diamond studs lined the seams, and even his boots had been polished to shine. It was almost easy to overlook the crown nestled in his golden hair and the crimson cardinal wings folded behind his back. Against any other backdrop, he would have seemed garish, even to Xander, king of a house known for its mines—but before this palace, it worked. The entire façade was painted in bright hues, highlighting the window surrounds and decorative transoms, the columns and cornices, the intricate filigree and elegant spires. One could go dizzy trying to take it all in, and Xander nearly did, but he quickly covered the imbalance by dropping to one knee. By his side, Lyana settled into a reluctant curtsy. Next to this man, they looked like paupers in their ripped and dirty clothes, but royalty was a matter of blood.

  "What brings the House of Whispers to my doorstep?"

  "King Dominic," Xander said as he rose. "We come bearing grave news. Vesevios has gained strength, and his power sent my homeland tumbling beneath the Sea of Mist. My people have lost everything, so we came to you, the patrons of Erhea, god of the love that exists between mates and kin, to humbly beg for your compassion. The only difference between ravens and songbirds is the color of our wings. We share the same worries and the same fears. Our hearts all beat to the tune the gods create. We are one people sharing one sky, and right now, the House of Whispers needs your help. Just as we pray Taetanos will guide your souls to the life after, so too we pray Erhea will provide for our poor souls in this one. What say you?"

  As the king ran his gaze over the gathering of ravens, Xander forced himself to breathe. There was a reason they hadn’t come alone. It was far easier to say no to two desperate souls than to a hundred. Their destitution was shocking, especially against this lush cityscape, and this was only a small sample of his people, most of whom still waited in the forests. Erhea was known for benevolence, which was why he'd made a point to call on their god's kindness. This king would be hard-pressed to deny them, especially with the songbirds attentively listening. Still, it was a relief when a few tense moments later the man nodded.

  "Thanks to Erhea, we are a house of plenty," King Dominic announced, making sure his voice carried. "I would not besmirch her name by denying anyone in need. We have more than enough to give, and give we shall. I welcome the House of Whispers to our lands, and I will see you are provided with whatever supplies you require. Please, let's discuss these matters further in the comfort of my home. Come."

  In the privacy of his home, more like, but Xander had expected this. Once they were behind closed doors, he doubted the king would be so kind. Still, they'd gotten what they'd come for—a promise before their people and before the gods that the House of Whispers would be cared for. As he and Lyana mounted the stairs, a weight lifted.

  One burden down… Countless more to go.

  The interior of the palace looked much like the exterior, arrayed in tapestries and draped in silks, every wall lined with paintings and every surface saturated with color. Gilt moldings framed the cased openings and stained glass filled the windows. In the entry hall, decorated trusses arched beneath a ceiling crafted to resemble the night sky. The distant chirping of songbirds echoed down the halls, creating a backdrop of gentle music.

  "It's a bit much, don't you think?" Lyana whispered as they followed the king through the winding halls. Laughter danced in her eyes.

  Xander smiled despite himself. "I'd go mad."

  "We used to tease my mother for calling the crystal palace plain."

  "She's a bluebird, right?"

  "With the voice to match."

  "Did her stories prepare you for all of this?"

  "A little," Lyana murmured, something wistful in her tone. "From the few I could pry out of her. Mostly, I learned by sneaking into her room and reading her letters—a confession that I’m sure must shock you."

  "I never would've guessed."

  "In truth, I think it made her sad to think too much of home, a feeling I never understood or even cared to consider until I stood in her place, a princess in a foreign land."

  Xander nodded, not sure what to say. If he closed his eyes, he could see Lyana standing in his library with her nose pressed to the glass, a dove out of place, a bird trapped in a cage, a woman desperate to break free. He too had failed to comprehend the pressures placed on a princess in a new home, with new duties and new burdens to replace old dreams. Maybe she'd shut him out. Maybe he hadn't tried hard enough. They'd both played a part. But now, in a way, he understood her. His own home was buried beneath the sea, and the many changes threatened to pull him under. Perhaps together they'd find a way to soar.

  "Fetch the queen and the crown princess," King Dominic said to a guard as they entered his private study, a room cased in ruby silks and gold carvings, the walls lined with maps and books and paintings of royals from days gone by. They walked past the desk to a circle of oversized leather chairs. "Please, sit."

  He studied them as they each took a seat, and a heavy silence descended. Xander fought the urge to drop his gaze to the floor. He was a king now, and he wouldn't be intimidated. Still, it took every ounce of patience he possessed not to squirm. Lyana remained impressively stoic by his side, a reminder that she was no longer the wayward princess he’d once known.

  "You have your mother's eyes," the king finally said.

  "I have her spirit too."

  The man arched a brow, but before he could respond, the door to the study opened and three more people entered. The queen was decidedly more reserved than the rest of her family, wearing a cream gown with limited embroidery and keeping her chestnut owl wings tucked demurely behind her back. Rushing past her in a deep emerald gown that perfectly offset the crimson highlights of her russet cardinal wings, Princess Corrinne sped to her father's side. And following at the rear was a man Xander recognized from the trials, Prince Jayce, formerly of the House of Flight. His feathers were those of a hummingbird, but their bright orange hue matched his new home rather well.

  "What's going on?" the crown princess demanded, clearly taking after the king. Their matching hazel eyes wore the same imperious expression.

  "That's exactly what I'd like to know." King Dominic shifted his gaze to Xander. "Did your isle truly fall?"

  "It did."

  A collective gasp filled the room, followed by murmurs of, "How? When? Why?"

  "It began during our mating ceremony," Xander continued, using the story he and Lyana had committed to memory the day before. "As we pressed our hands to the god stone to cement our vows before Taetanos, a wave of darkness enveloped Lyana and she disappeared. I believed it to be a trick from Vesevios until she returned two days ago with news of war."

  "It wasn't Vesevios." Lyana took over, smoothly transitioning to her part of the tale. "It was Taetanos, along with all the gods. He brought me into his realm, and there I spent weeks with their spirits, learning the truth about our world and what's to come. Vesevios is gaining strength and we are partly to blame. We curse
magic, and we cast it out, but the gods say we've been rash. Magic is their gift to us, a way to fight the dragons, and we've shunned it. Something needed to change, and they chose me to be the bringer of that change. They gave me unimaginable power to lead our people in the coming war, and I was still learning how to use it when Taetanos sent me back here to the world of the living. He said there was no more time. That the fall of the House of Whispers meant the war was already here."

  "Vesevios corrupted our god stone, and now he's after the rest of them. We don't know which isle will be targeted next, but he's coming. And his dragons are coming. Unless we embrace Lyana, and the gifts the gods have given, we'll all be doomed."

  The king and crown princess shared a look.

  It told Xander everything he needed to know.

  "You don't believe us," he stated softly.

  "Well," the king interjected, dubious at best. "It’s a rather difficult story to believe."

  "Why?"

  He knew the answer before King Dominic even opened his mouth. “Forgive me for being blunt, but the House of Whispers has long been deemed the least worthy among us. Your isle is the smallest. Your royal line is the most often overlooked. Your god is the last one to concern himself with matters of this realm. I find it hard to imagine why such an important message would be delivered into your hands, as opposed to, say, mine."

  "Lyana is a daughter of Aethios," Xander countered.

  The princess huffed. "And she showed exactly how much respect she has for her god's wishes during the trials."

  Beside him, Lyana's hand tightened audibly on the leather chair. She said nothing, but he knew her. His queen was ready to burst at the seams.

  "And what do you believe, then?" he asked, genuinely curious.

  "I believe your house has been losing strength for generations, and due to a lack of faith, your god stone failed you. Unfortunate, but hardly a surprise given the circumstances. Now you've come to my home to beg for shelter, knowing I could not deny you, all the while spouting grand stories reeking of self-importance to make yourselves feel better about a disaster your poor choices caused."

  "I see."

  Xander leaned back and folded his arms. The king and princess both dropped their gazes to his missing fingers and the rounded end of his right shirtsleeve. Then they shared another look. This time, it boiled his blood.

  He knew that look.

  He'd lived with it his entire life—the subtle meeting of eyes whispering he'd been found wanting. He'd seen it on his father's face. He'd seen it on his weapons master’s. He'd seen it on the royals’ in the crystal palace the moment Lyana had shocked them all and chosen him. Though Rafe had tried his best to shield him, Xander knew ridicule. He'd heard the other children snickering when they were younger. He'd suffered their jokes. He'd known why some little boys showed up to the training grounds with black eyes, even if magic had wiped the evidence from his brother's knuckles. He wasn't a fool. His disability made him different, and being different made him an easy mark, just as being a raven did. But he was proud of his people. He was proud of his heritage. He was no longer the boy who retreated into his library and buried his head in his books, hoping feigned ignorance would make it go away. He was a man. He was a king. And he was tired of always backing down.

  "Then why don't we make a wager?" Xander said, his voice far too calm. But Lyana must have sensed his underlying rage because she cut her gaze toward him. He kept his focus on King Dominic.

  The man leaned forward, intrigued. "A wager?"

  "A test, if you will. Taetanos has long been known as the trickster god, and I believe he'd find this an acceptable way to restore his honor. If we pass the test, you agree to believe our so-called story and you'll share our fears with your people. If we fail, the House of Whispers will leave your isle and you'll never have to deal with us again."

  The princess moved to interject, but the king held out his hand. Over his shoulder, the queen gripped his chair with a worried expression on her face. Xander had guessed right. Most kings had a hard time passing on a direct challenge, and this one was no different.

  "What sort of test?" he asked.

  "First, I'd like you to confirm a few important points. Can you attest that Queen Lyana has never been to the House of Song before?"

  "She has not."

  "Can you attest that Queen Lyana has no allies in these halls and that no one on this isle would go against your orders to offer her aid?"

  "They would not."

  "And finally, can you attest that you witnessed Queen Lyana's fighting skills during the trials, and though admirable, they were nothing one might describe as divine or godly?"

  "I agree."

  "Then the test should be simple and heavily in your favor." Xander paused to meet Lyana's gaze. A mischievous sparkle lit her eyes. For the first time, he was in on the game. In fact, it was his game, one she clearly approved. Xander turned to the king, keeping his tone casual even as he felt a wicked smile curve his lips. "I propose that Queen Lyana will be able to walk out of this room and into your sacred nest unchallenged. The moment she places her hand upon your god stone, the test is over, and we'll be declared the victors. You may use any means necessary to try to stop her, and I mean any—guardsmen, swords, arrows, and whatever other tricks you might have up your sleeve. When they fail, perhaps you'll finally understand the truth. She's been chosen by the gods, so only the gods have the power to stop her."

  The man's eyes widened in disbelief, and a laugh escaped his lips. It tapered off as he realized they were deadly serious. Arrogant as any royal, he offered his hand.

  "You have yourselves a deal."

  7

  Lyana

  As Lyana stood, the king eased back in his chair and flicked his gaze toward his new son-in-law. Disgust curled her lips. Not only was he an arrogant prick, but he was an arrogant prick who let others fight his battles for him. In him she saw nothing of her mother, the determined princess who'd won Aethios's heart. Where she was shrewd, he was sloppy. Where she was strict, he was callous. To speak to them like that…to speak to Xander like that—there was nothing she wanted more than to put her uncle in his place.

  But she had to be smart.

  Though she could lock down the entire palace if she wanted to, the amount of magic a feat like that required was immense. The god stones already trembled precariously in the sky, and the last thing she needed was to prod them along. No, the challenge here would be to get to the sacred nest using as little magic as possible.

  She needed to be precise.

  She needed to be controlled.

  This is just the sort of test Malek would love.

  Inwardly, she groaned. Outwardly, she stepped forward, uncaring as the hummingbird to her right unsheathed his sword. He attacked swiftly, using his speed to his advantage. All Lyana wanted to do was take the king's sword and raise it in a block, to feel her muscles heat as she fought to defend herself, but Malek had been right all those days ago in the arena. She didn't need daggers or bows or weapons any longer.

  She was the weapon.

  And it was time to make everyone in this room understand that.

  As Prince Jayce swung his rapier toward her throat, Lyana touched his soul and thought, Stop. The blade halted mere inches from her neck. Unable to see the horrified look in his son-in-law's eyes, the king sighed.

  "As I said," he drawled. "You don't have a problem with the gods. You have a problem with self-importance."

  The edge of her lip quirked in what she knew must have been an evil grin, though her voice came out as sweet as hummingbird nectar. "Do we?"

  Without a backward glance, she sidestepped the sword and continued toward the door, leaving the prince frozen behind her.

  "Jayce," the princess muttered. When he didn't respond, didn't even move, her voice went up an octave. "Jayce!"

  Lyana didn’t need her magic to know Corrinne was reaching for the delicate dagger strapped to her hip—they were cousins, after al
l. With a little bit of aethi'kine power and a silent command from Lyana, the princess stopped cold, her elbow by her ear, poised to strike. A strangled gasp escaped her lips, and the king launched to his feet.

  "What is the meaning of this?"

  Still seated and with a perfectly calm voice, Xander said, "I believe we are winning the test."

  "Guards! Guards!"

  Four came bursting into the room with their swords raised, then stiffened. Lyana bid them step aside as she approached, and they parted smoothly down the middle. Unhurried, she strode between them and into the hall.

  "Stop her!" the king shouted. "By whatever means necessary, stop her!"

  Grasping on to the spirit of the wood, she slammed the door behind her and cut him off. With her magic simmering just beneath the surface, she could sense the spirits hastening toward their king's garbled cry. Compared to the mages she’d dueled against, these men and women would be easy to stop. The hard part would be finding her way to the sacred nest. As soon as they'd landed in Cytrene, Lyana had felt the subtle pulsation of power emanating from the god stone, the current growing stronger and stronger as she'd neared the castle. Once inside, she'd heard the faint chirping of birds and known the nest was close. But where? And how to find it?

  Guards poured through the halls.

  Lyana stopped them with a thought.

  As daggers flew, she simply gripped the spirit of the metal and cast them aside. The archers started hiding along the balconies or out of sight through opened doorways. Clearly, they didn’t understand the walls did little to hide them. She gripped their souls like all the rest, leaving a trail of statues in her wake. All the while, the king's voice echoed down the halls.