The Hunter and the Mage (The Raven and the Dove #2) - Kaitlyn Davis Page 0,60

mate. Down here, she was Malek's queen. There was no place in the world where she and Rafe would ever be anything more than a memory, and she had to remember that.

"We should go," Malek murmured into her ear, his lips so close she felt his breath on her neck as he squeezed her fingers. "We shouldn't linger."

When she turned to face him, a flash of black hair caught her eye, the short strands ruffling in the breeze. Lyana froze, willing the crowd to part. If she could just get one look, one glance, one—

"Lyana." At the commanding tone, she flinched. "If you want to visit the infirmary, we need to keep moving before you burn out."

He was right. Already, the small bit of power she was using threatened to overwhelm, her control a precarious thing. Thoughts of Rafe had opened her heart, and she had to fight to shut down her emotions, to keep them contained, lest her magic overpower her again. Surrounded by so many people, she couldn't afford to let their aching souls inside. The maelstrom would consume her, and she was eager to get to the infirmary. As part of their newfound compromise, Malek had promised to let her practice her healing magic on his people, a way to endear her to them, but also to boost her confidence by using a power she already knew how to wield. This entire outing was a favor to her, and the least she could do was respect this one request.

"Of course."

He put his hand to the small of her back, easing her forward. Lyana searched one last time for the wisp of onyx, but whatever she thought she'd seen was gone.

Forcing her face and her thoughts ahead, she followed Malek's lead, fortifying her walls and separating her magic from her heart the way he'd taught her. As they made their way down crowded city streets, she couldn't help but marvel at his control, his precision, his apparent effortlessness. He moved the crowd around them, wrapping the people in his golden magic and forcing them aside, so no one got close enough to touch her or blocked their path. Yet no one shouted. No one complained. The only looks she saw were of devotion, as though his magic, even when used to restrain them, were a precious gift.

Part of her was envious—of his expertise, of their love for him, of the idea that if she'd been born to this world, maybe her magic would flow just as easily, just as freely, since she never would have had to hide.

Another part of her was wary—reverence such as this should be aimed only at the gods. Normally, she basked in attention, but this made her skin crawl. She was just a woman. Malek was just a man. What if they weren't the king and queen these people hoped for? What if, in the end, they couldn't give the people what they needed?

Nausea coiled like a snake in her gut.

It took a moment for Lyana to realize it wasn't her own. The air was sick, and as they turned a corner she knew why.

The infirmary loomed before her. Even though she'd never set eyes on the building, there was no mistaking it. Unlike every island sector they'd crossed before, this one had no paths, no walkways, no open bridges waiting for pedestrians to cross. The building was a fortress, its wooden walls slick and lacking handholds, and the windows mere slits with iron bars across them. There were no balconies and no doors. The sides sank straight into the canal, and the only way over the water surrounding it was the drawbridge being lowered in anticipation of their arrival. The people of the city kept their distance, the crowd around them thinning as the foot of the bridge drew near.

"We have to keep the sick contained," Malek whispered, as though sensing her sudden trepidation. "But inside it's not as bad as it looks. Trust me."

She did.

Or at least, she was starting to.

When they were halfway across the canal, the door to the infirmary eased open, and a man in a billowing evergreen cloak stepped outside to welcome them.

"Your Majesties." He bowed his head. "You honor us with your presence."

"Lord Daegal, the honor is ours."

He led them through the entrance and into a dark tunnel made of solid stone, the way illuminated only by globes of magic light. Their boots clicked in the silence, each step echoing around the chamber, softened only by