The Hunter and the Mage (The Raven and the Dove #2) - Kaitlyn Davis Page 0,113

spot. We have a few things to settle here, and then we'll meet you on foot."

No one moved.

Was she done? Was there more?

Sometimes it was difficult to tell.

After a moment, Captain leaned forward, the colorful fabric swaths in her hair falling over her shoulders as she jerked her chin to the side. "What are you all standing around for? Go!"

They scattered like roaches in sudden light.

Rafe and Brighty got to the gangplank first, with Pyro and Archer not far behind. Captain waited a moment, making sure everything was in order, before she stomped after them. At the bottom, the king's mages waited, faces carefully blank, though he caught a hint of disdain in them. The difference between their two sides couldn't have been more obvious—one rigid and controlled, their formal stances a mirror of each other, and the other loose and relaxed, with the swagger of rebellion. Rafe wasn't quite sure where he fit. In the world above, he'd been a study of constraint, constantly fighting to blend in, always worried he might say the wrong thing, afraid of the one moment when he'd reveal too much. In the world below, he'd learned a different way, a freer way that came from not having to hide.

As they stopped, Brighty leaned her elbow against his shoulder as if he were a doorframe and cocked her hip. Pyro crossed her arms, seemingly bored. Archer offered a slanted grin, as though fighting to hold back a secret.

"Jacinta," he offered sweetly.

The ferro'kine curled her lip, her features exactly how Rafe remembered—all severity, sharp edges and stark contrast, her bangs harsh against pale skin, her pointed chin acting as a frame. "Archer."

"Kal," Brighty said next, a bit of a challenge to her tone, though Rafe didn't miss the way she smiled. There was nothing the woman thrived on more than confrontation.

"Brighty." The photo'kine grinned, a dimple digging into his freckled cheek, then glanced at Rafe. "Who's your friend?"

"We call him Scowl."

"No, you don't." Rafe eyed her strangely, but before he could say more, Captain intervened.

"Brighty, Archer, Pyro, Rafe," she said, pointing at each in turn. "This is Jacinta, Kal, Isaak, and Nyomi, though I think most of you know each other already. Let's get it over with. I'm ready for a shot of dragon's breath and a warm bed."

"I'll handle the dragon," Jacinta said icily.

"You sure you don’t want help?" Archer asked, a taunting current laced through the words.

She slid her gaze toward him, as though expelling any more energy than that would be a waste. "I'm the king's head ferro'kine for a reason."

"Let me guess," Brighty cut in. "Your charming personality?"

"Just stay out of my way."

Captain glared at Brighty and shoved Archer toward the warehouse. Clearly, there was a backstory here Rafe wasn't privy to, though Pyro didn’t seem to have the same reservations. She looped her arm through Isaak's and held up her other hand as red magic sparked along her fingertips. An orange ball hurtled over the side of the ship and raced across the darkness to land in her palm. The fire expanded until it encased most of her bare arm, stopping just short of her sleeve. The older man offered her a friendly look as he dipped his fingers into the flames and pulled a burning ember free, bringing a matching glow to his palm.

The final mage had already walked away, leaving Rafe no clue as to what her magic might be. With a shrug, he followed Archer, Brighty, and Captain toward the warehouse, then helped them pull open the massive wooden doors. Inside, Brighty sent a dozen ivory flares across the room, leaving the mage light suspended in the air to illuminate the space, though the effort was hardly worth it. No one was there—no king, no other mages, nothing at all, except for a few unopened crates piled in the corners. Where was he?

By the time Rafe glanced back at the doors, the dragon was already halfway there, its body floating on a wave of evergreen magic, carried aloft by the metal binds. He forced himself to watch even as a hollowness grew inside his heart. Despite their fears, they had no trouble moving the beast inside. In just a few minutes, Jacinta was done. The dragon didn’t fight, didn’t struggle. Its enormous chest just rose with resigned breath, the dust along the floor kicking up before its nostrils. The molten heat churning within its veins did little more than cast a fiery glow upon the four walls