The Hunter and the Mage (The Raven and the Dove #2) - Kaitlyn Davis Page 0,115

him like an old friend. The smile faded the second he realized there was no boat waiting on the waves.

"Hey—"

Salt water slammed into his face, cutting off the question as it drove him stumbling back. The pressure was relentless. Liquid clung to his arms and legs, wrapping around his body. No matter how hard he fought, he couldn't break free of the current. Lost in the maelstrom, he fell back, only to be caught by another surging wave. He rolled with the flood, weightless and directionless, tumbling in the river, until his back crashed into something hard.

All at once, the water released him and he dropped, feeling rough planks beneath his hands as he fought to stand. The creak of a door closing drew his attention, and he spun just in time to see the last bit of light disappear, leaving him in darkness. Rafe ran to the door, searching for a knob, but it was smooth, without even a scratch into which to dig his nails.

"What is this?" he screamed. "What are you doing? Where's the king?"

No response.

"We had a deal!" He banged his fist against the wood. "We had a deal!"

Silence.

He kicked and shoved and yelled with all his might, but it did nothing to stop the heavy bolt from sliding into place, locking him inside.

36

Lyana

Malek was later than usual that morning. By the time he walked in, Lyana was already seated at her desk with a perfect sphere of water floating in the air before her eyes. Perhaps if she'd been able to do as he'd asked and separate her magic from her mind, to build a wall between her emotions and her power, his sudden appearance wouldn't have bothered her. As it was, the moment he strode through the door she jumped in her seat and the globe of water burst, splashing her in the face.

"Where have you been?" she asked as she wiped the droplets from her cheeks.

"That was good," he said, ignoring her question. "Do it again."

"Malek—"

"After. I promise, I'll explain everything after."

When he approached, she couldn't help but notice his pale skin seemed alive with color, the flush bringing a certain sparkle to his midnight eyes, as if the mist had cleared to reveal a starry sky. His blond hair was in disarray, both falling over his forehead and standing atop his head as though caught in a breeze.

Questions stirred at the back of her throat, but Lyana swallowed them. Later, she thought. I'll ask him later.

With a sweep of his hands, the water splattered across the table lifted in a flash of gold and returned to the bowl. Malek sat, pressed his elbows against the table, rested his chin on his folded hands, and watched her. The look on his face, ripe with so much expectation, made her stomach flutter.

Separate it, she chided herself. Cut off my emotions.

Lyana concentrated on the bowls, closing her eyes and reopening them to welcome her spirit vision, so the world shifted into an array of elemental colors. Then she called on her magic. The power responded immediately, dancing along her fingertips as her awareness extended beyond her. Malek's soul whispered, lonely and aching, yet rigid and strong, pushing her away before she even had a chance to reach out. There wasn't time to linger on why, as the souls outside her window called, yearning for her healing touch.

No. No. No.

The surge broke like a wave crashing over her, but Lyana fought to keep the water back, building a dam inside her mind, cutting off her heart and her soul, focusing only on the magic thrumming beneath her skin and the power alive inside her. The sensation left her cold yet tingling, as though she were back in her homeland high above the clouds, where the air was crisp enough to burn as she drew it into her lungs. She felt just as barren as that tundra, nothing but ice and rock, a proper queen bred of snow, no longer the warm and carefree princess of her youth.

As she stared at the blue spirals of water sitting still inside the bowl, the spirit between gradually came into view, subtle flashes of gold and silver like oscillations of light from the sun and the moon. She grabbed hold and commanded that essence to move. The liquid responded, trapped within the spirit, hers to do with as she willed. Ever so slowly, the water conjoined in a perfect sphere and rose to hover in the space between her and