The Hunter and the Mage (The Raven and the Dove #2) - Kaitlyn Davis Page 0,20

ship with the wind in his face and the breeze against his chest, for a brief moment the world gave way and a weightlessness took over—during which, for a fraction of a second, he could almost fool himself into thinking he was flying. Then wood slammed into water, jarring his knees as the floor rose to meet him, and he remembered that he was now a bird without wings, no longer a creature of the sky.

It was the only spot on this ship he felt alive.

It was also the only spot that made him want to drop over the edge, sink into the ocean, and die.

Luckily, the shifting of the ship was so frequent, neither extreme had a chance to win. Instead, he stood with his fingers on the damp rail and hovered somewhere in between, unsure if his arms were pushing him back or pulling him forward. It was a sweet sort of pain he'd grown used to, like a punishment that felt so good he kept coming back for more. It felt the same way touching Lyana had, as though it might kill him and save him at the same time.

"I see you've found my favorite spot on the ship."

Rafe tore open his eyes, finding the captain beside him. Her face was turned out to sea, angled just right to catch the wind. The colorful fabrics wrapped around her hair shifted in the breeze, and the edges of her lips crinkled with the barest hint of a smile.

"When I was younger, I used to spend all my time at the bow of the ship, not behind the wheel. And then I learned a very important lesson—living in the past will prevent you from ever seeing a brighter future."

He grunted and returned his gaze to the thick gray stretched out before him.

"It's dangerous to long for things you may never have."

A laugh escaped his lips, darker than the wings he no longer possessed. "Trust me, Captain, that's a peril I'm well acquainted with."

"And how has it treated you so far?"

Rafe frowned.

Before his parents died, he used to spend hours in his mother's room at the base of the castle imagining the royal rooms where his father lived. He wanted to see them, to sleep in a luxurious bed, to have servants bring him meals, to have free rein of the grounds the way his brother did. The wishes of a child. Then the dragon came and stole his parents, and somehow he found himself in the spot he'd always dreamed of, but in a way he'd never desired.

As a boy, learning to fight beneath scrutiny and stares, ostracized by everyone aside from the brother he held dear, Rafe used to dream of proving his loyalty. In some visions, he'd slay the dragon. In others, he'd save Xander's life and, just like that, the ravens would forgive his sins. In a few, the most idealistic, he didn’t have to do anything at all except remain steadfast by his sibling's side, and eventually his devotion won them over. Then he'd gotten his chance to prove himself, but it was by posing as Xander in the trials, a role he'd never wanted, one he'd in fact abhorred.

When he’d been saved by a mysterious dove, he'd opened a heart that had always been closed, daring to hope for a connection he'd never before thought possible. Instead, he found a mate for his brother and a recurring dream to haunt his nights—of her lips on his throat, his fingers digging into her skin, their magic sizzling between them.

Now he longed for the sky.

What twisted fate did Taetanos next have in store? It didn’t matter, not really. Rafe was quite certain he had nothing left to lose.

"I was seven when my magic made itself known," the captain said, leaning her elbows on the rail beside Rafe's and staring out into the distance. "I was in the woods, training with my uncle, when I felt something stir in my chest. Before I could speak, a vicious wind tunneled down from the sky, wrapped around my limbs, and carried me away. I tried to fly out of it, but it followed me, as though it were part of me. Then I noticed the yellow sparks at my fingertips, how the storm mirrored the turmoil in my spirit, and I knew what it was—magic. When I finally managed to calm it, my uncle pulled me into his arms and let me cry against his chest. I pled with