The Hunter and the Mage (The Raven and the Dove #2) - Kaitlyn Davis Page 0,154

had grown wider. The spell fighting to keep it contained was weaker, no longer anchored by seven bright spots of magic but six. One was missing. One was gone. One had fallen. Now the other six dimmed, their lights already starting to sputter out as the strength holding them together unraveled.

"What will happen?" she whispered, still deep in her magic.

"The others will follow," Malek said, his voice grave. "One by one, until the House of Peace is all that's left between us and annihilation, unless you and I can find a way to stop it."

"What if I'm not ready?"

He didn’t answer, but the sharp clench of his jaw said it all.

"What do you mean, until the House of Peace is all that's left?" Rafe asked, his question only for her.

Lyana turned to find his pleading eyes as Malek's stare burned a hole in her back. She was stuck in the middle of two extremes, a bastard and a king, her past and her future, her heart and her mind. As she glanced between them, the words stuck like a lump in her throat, because no matter what she said, it would come out sounding like a choice, one she wasn't ready to make. She needed Malek to save the world, but if she turned her back on Rafe, on her people, then what world would she really be saving?

"Ana…"

A whimper escaped her lips.

"Talk to me."

Unlike Malek's, the words from Rafe weren't an order. They were a prayer. He held her fingers tenderly, his thumb brushing over her skin, no demand in the motion, just vulnerability. The very fact that he gave her a choice made her ache to choose him.

"Rafe—"

"My liege!"

Their heads snapped toward the sound. Nyomi yelled from the other side of the burning rubble, blue simmering at her fingertips and sinking into the waves that sloshed against the dock. Her amber eyes were wide with a fear Lyana had never seen in them before—had never seen in any of Malek's mages. They were the sort who thrived on danger, as confident as Malek that their magic could save them from any foe.

Her chest constricted.

"The ocean," Nyomi called, her voice frantic and unsure. "Something's wrong. I can feel it racing toward us. I don't think we'll be able to stop it, not with all the magic in the city. It's moving too fast."

"The island," Lyana murmured, her mind spinning. When the island landed back in the sea, it must have displaced the water. It must have caused a surge.

"Let's go." Malek took her hand even as Rafe held the other. There was no question in his grip, only unflinching command as he pulled her toward him. "We must get to safety."

She dug in her heels. "What about the rest of the city?"

"The hydro'kines will do what they can."

"Nyomi just said it won't be enough. We can help, Malek. The two of us, together, we can stop it."

"We must get to safety first," he insisted. "Then we'll help."

"What if it's too late by then?"

His head dipped to the side, a bit of the hardness in his features leaking away to reveal a man of deep sorrow, the one she sometimes felt when she brushed against his soul, the one hiding behind his walls. He didn’t want to make this choice. She wished she could somehow show him that he didn't need to. Before she had the chance, his defenses strengthened. His eyes hardened, shimmering like dark sapphires in the firelight, and in that reflection she saw his answer. So be it.

Lyana threw his hand away in disgust. She refused to be the queen of a drowned world. She refused to sit back and watch people die when she might save them. She refused to believe a prophecy made her more important than the poorest peasant on the street with no magic to his name. And she refused to quiet her heart when it had always been the one thing she could trust to guide her forward.

"Go," Lyana spat at her king. "Go, if you want, but I am not coming with you."

If Malek didn’t want to help her, fine.

She would save the world on her own.

Lyana stepped through the fire, her power flowing out in waves as she reached for the spirit of the sea. Rafe let her go without a fight, watching her the same way he had on those long-ago nights in Pylaeon when they'd snuck through the city streets, as though she were the brightest star in