The Hunter and the Mage (The Raven and the Dove #2) - Kaitlyn Davis Page 0,166

it was, they'd never get to the ship before the king found them. She needed help. She needed a plan.

As they broke through the flames, Brighty studied her surroundings again. In her haste, she'd failed to notice which part of the city Rafe had landed in, but now that she had, she didn't feel much better. They were in the mage quarters, which meant there'd be no easy boat to steal here. Every house had a private dock to the canal, only accessible through the mansions lining the streets. Breaking in wouldn't be easy. Breaking in with a half-dead dragon man draped across her back would be impossible. There had to be another way, another option, another—

Her heart sank as an idea struck.

The king would never expect it.

She couldn't believe she was even considering it.

But there was no other way, and after tonight, with the image burned into her mind of Rafe and the queen standing in the flames as ash fell like snow all around them, Brighty knew this was bigger than the demons of her past. It had been years since they'd last seen each other, years since the heartache and the pain, though the thought of her still brought a throbbing that even time couldn't quite heal. Maybe it would be a good thing to finally face her.

Before she had time to question, Brighty stopped outside the home she knew better than any other in the city—its towering façade glimmering in the night, four stories of wood decorated with elaborate metal statues only magic could produce, starbursts and twisting rails, dragons and gargoyles, though her favorite had always been the climbing roses. The ferro'kine in charge of the city's elaborate plumbing system lived in this house, or at least he had. Brighty heard the man died two years ago, at which point his daughter moved back into her childhood home with her ferro'kine husband who took up the family business.

Brighty didn't expect her to sleep in the same room she once had, but she tried their old signal, just in case, and shot a beam of light into the third-story window on the left. After a moment, the curtain shifted just enough for her to catch a flash of pale fingers. With her heart in her throat, Brighty pulled her magic back beneath her skin and carried Rafe the rest of the way to the door. The latch unbolted. Her pulse raced. And just like that, she was looking at a face she swore she'd never see again, every detail just the same as she remembered. Her brown eyes were soft with sleepiness, the edges downturned and the lashes long. A delicate array of freckles covered the rosy skin of her rounded cheeks and button nose. Her auburn hair was pinned neatly atop her head and her elegant neck was covered mostly by her dressing gown, which had been pinned just below her chin.

"Thalyia?" she asked, shock making the word airy. It still managed to send a shiver all the way down Brighty's spine.

"Hi, Effie." She swallowed the knot in her throat, trying to fight the rush of emotions as her first love took her in, those eyes scanning every inch of her face before widening at the sight of the man draped across her back. "Can I come in?"

"Thalyia, what—"

"I wouldn't be here if it wasn't an emergency."

Effie bit her plush lower lip, then nodded and stepped back, opening the door to let Brighty inside. If the house weren't so full of fineries, she would have dropped Rafe the second she passed the threshold—he was heavy and her shoulder was starting to burn—but the last thing she wanted to do was light the pretty rug beneath her feet on fire.

"My ship is docked in the western edge of the city, near the gambling halls, and I need a boat—" Brighty stopped short as she took notice of the bundle wrapped securely in Effie's arms. Slack-jawed, she darted her gaze between the small angelic face visible within the folds of fabric and the feminine face watching her worriedly. "You have a baby."

Effie's lips twisted into a grin Brighty recognized. "I do."

Of course she did.

It was all she'd ever wanted.

I can't go with you, Thalyia. The words were imprinted like a brand across her chest. Brighty remembered every intonation, every lilt, every moment as they'd fallen like knives against her skin. I'm going to marry him, I'm sorry. I can't go with you.

Don’t let your father win, she'd