The Hunter and the Mage (The Raven and the Dove #2) - Kaitlyn Davis Page 0,3

used to the whims of their king, or they were carefully masking their emotions. Regardless, Lyana was alone in the middle of the ocean, unable to fly and weighed down by questions.

Naturally, she raced after him.

When she tore open the door, he was waiting inside, leaning casually against the wall with his arms crossed and an expectant look on his face. Lyana folded her wings to fit in the tight corridor and swallowed, a little bit of her pride slipping down the back of her throat along with the gulp.

"Perhaps we got off on the wrong foot," she offered slowly.

"Perhaps." He pushed off the wall. "Now, please, if you'll follow me, I'll tell you of the prophecy, somewhere private where we won't be disturbed."

He led her deeper into the ship. With each step, she found herself bracing her palm against a wall to keep from toppling over, positive she would never get used to the constant rocking. The man, however, charged confidently forward, his steps smooth and undisturbed. He didn’t stop, didn't even pause, until they reached a spot she recognized, the bed in the corner left unmade in her haste to get outside.

"My room," Lyana commented.

"Actually, it's my room," the man said. The ghost of a grin passed over his lips, quickly replaced with the same grim determination as before. "But I'm happy to loan it to you for as long as you're here."

"And how long will that be?"

"As long as it takes."

"As long as what takes?"

He finally turned toward her, his deep blue eyes as churning and tumultuous as the sea from which she'd just been fished. "Saving the world."

The conviction in his words made her heart skip a beat.

"But first," he continued, "a fresh change of clothes. You're dripping water all over my floor, and I can't imagine that gown is comfortable."

Now that he'd mentioned it, she was a little cold, and getting out of this corset would solve at least one of her problems. The man knelt beside a trunk on the opposite wall and retrieved a bundle of clothes.

"I had these made for you. The jacket should attach around your wings, but if not, I can have something else formed."

Touched by his thoughtfulness, Lyana took the garments. As she did, their fingers grazed, the barest brush of skin on skin. His gaze dropped to the spot. With a swallow, he stepped back and let his arms fall to his sides.

"What's your name?" she asked suddenly.

"Malek'da'Nerri."

"Malek," she repeated, testing the word on her tongue. The clouds in his eyes seemed to part at the sound. "It's nice to meet you."

"You as well, Princess."

"Lyana, please. Just Lyana."

He inclined his head. "Lyana."

Then he turned and offered his back as he strode across the room, coming to a stop before the window with his feet spread wide and his hands clasped by the base of his spine. Lyana glanced at the clothes in her hands, at Malek, and back at the clothes. Did he mean for her to change with him there? It wasn't proper. What would—

She paused.

What would who think? Her home was thousands of miles away. It might as well have been another world, and for all she knew, they thought her dead. If this stranger had devious intentions, they would have already played out. But she'd woken alone and unharmed. Still, it wasn't every day she undressed with a man present.

The longer she waited, the more she felt a silent challenge tightening the air between them, as though he was daring her, maybe testing her limits. If he thought she'd back down, he was sorely mistaken. Lyana reached back and loosened the knot of ribbons at her back, pulling the threads free. The subtle swish of silk was loud in the silence, broken only by the creak of wood. Her skin began to heat, but she didn't stop until her dress dropped past her hips and slid to the floor. He didn’t move. He just kept staring out the window, making her wonder what deep thoughts were spinning in his head.

"Can you tell me about this prophecy?" she finally asked to fill the quiet. "Where did it come from? What does it say?"

"It comes from a time before your islands were lifted into the sky, and it's survived through prayer alone, passed down from generation to generation in the hope that one day the saviors would come forward to see it through."

"And you believe we are these saviors?"

"I do."

"Will you tell me what it says?"

For a