The Hunter and the Mage (The Raven and the Dove #2) - Kaitlyn Davis Page 0,5

a peace offer, but now she found her guard had risen. Was she a prisoner? An honored guest? Some strange thing in between? "If you can't trust me, the girl you claim is your queen of prophecy, who can you trust, Malek?"

"No one but myself."

"That sounds like a rather sad way to live."

"Maybe it is," he said, one side of his lips curving up as a blond lock of hair fell forward, shrouding his eyes. "But that's the sacrifice we make, Lyana. The one you'll come to understand. I'm afraid the prophecy never said anything about being happy."

Without another word, he left.

Lyana hugged her arms around her midsection, fighting a sudden chill as she returned her gaze to the mist.

2

Rafe

Pain greeted him like an unwelcome morning, bright and burning as it chased away his dreams. Rafe groaned, writhing beneath the ache. What happened? Where—

It came rushing back in a flash.

Waking to find Lyana gone. The confrontation with Xander. The trip to his mother's rooms to say goodbye to his home forever. And then Cassi. His friend. Lyana's confidante. The woman who had been fooling them all.

My wings.

Taetanos help me—my wings!

Rafe shot up, vision going white as his shoulders screamed at him to lie down. But it wasn't the pain that terrified him—it was the weightlessness. His body was too light. Even through the agony, the absence was obvious. His wings were gone. She'd cut them off. She'd mutilated him. Rafe reached back, fighting against all hope as his fingers tenderly touched the wounds. His skin was scarred, and the jagged edges of his bones were now smooth. He was healing—healing over—which meant his wings were well and truly gone.

Grief came as swiftly as a punch to the gut, stealing his breath. There was no telling how long he might have drowned in the despair if a hand hadn’t swatted his fingers away, shocking him back to life.

"Stop moving."

Rafe didn't recognize the voice. He blinked to clear his vision, trying to understand as a room came into focus. He was stretched out on a bed, his arms bare, his torso probably bare as well. The walls were made of wood and the air was damp. The ground swayed, bobbing with a buoyancy he didn’t understand. Then he saw the blades in the corner—his twin swords, returned to their scabbards and leaning against the wall. If he could get to them, he might have a chance.

"Would you just stay still?" The voice came again as two palms pressed against his shoulders. It was a woman, he was sure, and she sounded frustrated.

Rafe acted fast. With a roll, he was off the bed, landing hard on his hands and feet. The woman behind him sighed. He ignored her and shuffled across the room to grab the hilts of his blades. Wrapping his palms around those worn leathers felt the tiniest bit like coming home. Even as his muscles screamed, he spun toward the stranger with his swords held defiantly at the ready. She was small in stature, probably around his age, with short black hair and a round face. Her skin was a pale sort of tan, as though it yearned for the sun, and her eyes were disturbingly white, her pupils a milky gray as though covered by a film. They angled up at the ends, somewhat hooded by her creaseless eyelids. What he noticed most of all, however, was her lack of wings.

"Who are you?"

She dropped her gaze to his swords, then lifted it back to him, slightly bored. "The person who is trying to prevent you from getting an infection."

"Where have you taken me?"

"Nowhere. You just sort of dropped into our laps."

He narrowed his eyes and lowered one of his swords until the point was level with her throat. "What do you want with me?"

"Nothing." She snorted and crossed her arms, seemingly unafraid of his threat. "But Captain is determined to keep you alive, which means I am too."

"Captain?"

She jutted her chin to the left. "Go ahead and see for yourself. I won't stop you."

Still facing her with his swords at the ready, Rafe stepped backward, not liking the amused grin rising to her lips as he slowly made his way across the room toward the door she'd indicated. He didn't stop until his hip hit the knob.

"Want me to open it for you?" she asked sardonically. "I wouldn't want you to drop that impressive fighting stance prematurely. Who knows what terrifying evil might await you on the other side