The Hunter and the Mage (The Raven and the Dove #2) - Kaitlyn Davis Page 0,1

beyond all the cities, into the very core of the world where that yawning abyss waited to be sealed.

It was too much.

The hurt of the world.

The pain of its people.

The weight was too much for one boy to carry, but he had no choice. Deep in his power, Malek let go. The magic rolled off him in waves, an iridescent golden sea that flowed over the crowd, easing their pain. Yet no matter how much power he sent out into the world, it wasn't enough. For every ache he dampened, ten more rose. It was like trying to dispel a raging tempest with nothing but the air in his lungs, useless and impossible.

"My liege. My liege!"

Malek blinked rapidly, trying to return to the world, fighting to quell the power that still controlled him. The air shimmered with the fading glow of his magic. In a kingdom that had never known the warmth of the sun, he was the closest thing.

"My liege."

By the time his vision returned, he realized he was too late. The funeral pyre had long since faded into the mist. There was no last glance, no final goodbye. Malek stifled his pain—compared to the hurt of the whole world, it was nothing. He turned from the gray horizon and took the crown his advisor offered. Settling it back onto his head was like securing his own chains.

"We should make haste for the castle, my liege."

Malek nodded as his gaze dropped to the guards stationed near the foot of the bridge. They'd drawn their staffs to hold back the crowd surging forward to touch their new king, their hands outstretched as they pled with him to give them his grace.

"My child is sick," one called.

"Please, my king, my wife is ill."

"My husband can’t work."

"My father won't wake."

On and on, the voices followed him as he traveled deeper into the city. No one cared that he was still a child himself. No one offered condolences for the loss of his father. No one suggested he rest his weary soul. Because no one understood, and no one would until he found her—the Queen Bred of Snow.

His partner.

His soul mate.

His savior.

1

Lyana

Lyana woke wrapped in silken sheets. For a moment, she thought the day before had been nothing but a dream. Sneaking from Rafe's room at the crack of dawn. Meeting Xander's broken gaze as he slipped his ring back over her finger. The parade through the streets of Pylaeon. The battle in the sacred nest. The man with stormy eyes and golden magic who had vowed to teach her about the new power raging beneath her skin.

But it wasn't a dream.

It was real.

She shot up, disentangling her limbs from the bed linens as she rolled from the bed to land on her feet, heart thumping in her chest. Her mating gown still clung to her skin, ebony shifting to ivory as the fabric rose up her torso, every inch decorated with precious stones. A red splotch marred the fabric by her waist—Xander's blood. He'd been stabbed and she'd saved him, then…nothing.

Where was she?

How had she gotten here?

Groaning wood broke the silence as the world around her shifted, tilting this way and that, like a leaf swaying in the breeze. She stumbled with the motion, flaring her wings for balance. The ground was…moving. She slid her gaze across the wooden walls, past the dresser in the corner, past the desk covered in papers, past the tapestry, not stopping until she found the window. The world outside was gray.

She was beneath the mist.

No—she was in the mist.

Lyana took off, sprinting for the door and flinging it open with a loud bang. She raced down a narrow hall and climbed the first staircase she could find. Two men stopped short, shock written on their faces as she ran past. Then she was outside, surrounded by gray. The air was wet as she pulled a deep breath into her lungs. She was on a ship of some kind, which meant there was an ocean—a real ocean! Not a sea of flames, but one of water. She wanted to see. She wanted to know. Someone shouted her name, but Lyana ignored it as she jumped onto the railing, pumped her wings, and—

Fell.

"Lyana!"

It was the last thing she heard before the waves pulled her under. Wings that carved so efficiently through the wind were useless in the water. She kicked with her feet and pushed with her arms, but the liquid rolled around her body, unaffected. Everything was