The Hunter and the Mage (The Raven and the Dove #2) - Kaitlyn Davis Page 0,64

type. Too handsome. Too tall. Too male. No, this was something far, far worse, something she’d thought she'd cured herself of—compassion. He was, perhaps, the least charming man she'd ever met—always grumpy, always moping, always talking back. But there was something about him that almost pleaded with her to take pity on his soul.

For magic's sake. She shook her head, as though trying to dispel the wayward feelings creeping up her spine and infiltrating her common sense. What is happening to me?

It was his damned eyes—those deep, tortured eyes. He reminded her of someone she used to know. Before the day that had changed everything, before she'd been delivered to the king with that wretched stain on her soul, before he'd cleaned his hands of her, these streets had been her home. There had been a boy who used to beg beside her when she was just a girl, back when her eyes hadn't fully worked. He'd been whip sharp and sneaky as hell. After her magic came in, gifting her a new kind of sight, she'd spent months quietly studying his sleight of hand, trying to copy his tricks. Clearly, that shrewd bastard wasn't anything like Rafe. But his constant companion had been a loyal hound, floppy ears and droopy eyes, the perfect ruse to lure people in. That was who Rafe resembled. He was just like that dog, loyal and steadfast, honest and somehow pure, so undeniably sad with those big brown eyes that were impossible to pass by and ignore. Rafe's eyes were blue, but it was the same thing. They were so broken, so fractured, that for some inexplicable reason she wanted to protect him.

Brighty sighed and shook her head, still racing after Rafe, his pounding boot steps probably waking the entire neighborhood. Even if they weren't, the occasional frantic shout of Lyana would do the trick. Apparently, she needed to teach him how to live on land as well as on the sea. Were they all like this in the world above? So rash and loud? Had the thin air messed with their minds?

You should go right, she thought as they reached the next fork in the street.

Rafe went left.

The bridge is two blocks in the opposite direction.

He kept going.

The rooftops are so much easier to navigate.

He remained firmly on the ground.

Aren't you a bird? Shouldn't you inherently know how to move north?

He went south, toward the docks, decidedly away from the castle, and ran into another dead end. A thin line of chain was all that kept him from toppling over the edge and into the canal.

"Rafe," she finally said, taking pity on him.

He spun, eyes blazing. "Brighty, how the gods do I find this bloody castle?"

A delighted gasp escaped her lips as she put her hand to her chest. "Rafe, you're talking like a sailor."

"Please." With a hasty step forward, he grabbed her hands. "Please, no more jokes. No more watching me run aimlessly through the streets with a smirk on your lips. No more games. You know where to go. Please, help me." He stared at her, the imploring expression nailing her to the spot and weighing her down with its familiarity. "Please, Brighty. I have to see her."

Just like that, she knew who he truly reminded her of—not the dog, but someone else, someone far more important. The memories of her were buried so deep it had taken Brighty a moment to realize it. Back in the square, when he'd first seen the queen, an emotion had filled his eyes, warm and burning, brighter than the light magic in her veins, more powerful too and edged with yearning. She'd seen that look before. It was the reason she'd decided to guard her heart, to stop caring about other people, to stop giving them the chance to hurt her.

That look had once destroyed her.

She didn’t want it to destroy him too.

"Rafe," she said softly. Hope pooled in his gaze, the sort of light she didn’t need her magic to see, yet it touched her just the same. Brighty mentally scolded herself. It's his heart he's playing with. His life. What's it to you? The answer should have been nothing, but it wasn't, and she didn't care to linger on why. Instead, she stifled every instinct screaming at her to return to the ship and said the very thing he wanted to hear. "Follow me, and I'll take you to the king."

This was his mistake to make.

Maybe the best thing she could do