The Hunter and the Mage (The Raven and the Dove #2) - Kaitlyn Davis Page 0,66

doubt too deep for a bird who'd never learned to swim. Across the way, a boat was anchored to a small wooden dock. A staircase had been carved into the rock, leading all the way up to what must be a door. If he could just reach it…

All he needed to do was keep his head above the surface.

Swimming couldn't be that hard.

Brighty read his mind. "Before you take a diving leap off the wall, can you please ask yourself one question—why has no one tried to stop us?"

"I don't care."

"Why not?"

"I just—" He squeezed his eyes shut, Lyana's face rising through the darkness. No one had ever looked at him the way she'd looked at him. No one had ever treated him the way she'd treated him. As an equal. As worthy. As someone to love. If she was hurt, if she was imprisoned, he had to help her, consequences be damned. She would do the same for him. He knew it in his bones. "I know it might be a trap," he finally said, his voice gritty. "I know this is probably idiotic. And I know there's a good chance it won't work. But I have to try. I have to. So, are you going to help me or not?"

"Well, I've come this far." She sighed and nodded toward the water. "You first."

Rafe jumped.

The water devoured him on impact. In the darkness, he couldn't see which way was up and which was down. He kicked and flailed his arms, struggling to find the surface as his chest burned. The ebony folds smothered him, impossible to fight.

A beam of light cut through the shadows.

Hands grabbed his arm.

Rafe kicked his feet, following where Brighty led, until finally they broke the surface together and inhaled deeply. With his head above water, swimming came more easily. His movements were still rushed and jerky, probably the strokes of a child, but they did the trick. Brighty slowed her pace to stick with him, keeping a hand on his shoulder as she went, just as nimble in the water as she was on land.

When they reached the dock, Rafe pulled himself up first, then lifted her beside him. Not waiting, he raced up the stairs, taking them two at a time and grabbing the metal rail when he slipped on the moist stones, not letting it slow him. Brighty was right behind him, he was sure, but as he got to the top, he didn't stop to check. The door was a few feet away. He sprinted for it, reaching for the knob, so close, so close—

The entrance yawned open.

Rafe barreled inside, unable to stop himself as he skidded over smooth tiles and fell to his knees, off balance in this new body with no wings to catch him. Brighty put a hand on his shoulder to steady him, then froze as a voice echoed across the darkness.

"I admit, I didn’t think it would take you quite so long to get here. If you would, please, Thalyia."

He felt more than saw her flinch.

Thalyia? Rafe thought. Is that her real name? Does the king know her?

Light pooled around Brighty's hand, illuminating the hall and chasing the shadows away. With a flick of her fingers, ivory sparks sailed across the room to land in glass encasements. The space almost reminded him of home—thick stone walls, heavy woven tapestries, a grand staircase leading deeper into the castle. Rafe's attention went straight to the man standing before him with his hands joined behind his back. They were the same height, yet somehow the king managed to peer down at him, reeking of arrogance. Rafe longed for nothing more than to wipe his smug expression from his face.

Still on his hands and knees, he pushed off the ground and launched himself at the king. Golden sparks blazed at the man's fingertips and shot across the divide to wrap around Rafe's limbs. He froze in place with his hands outstretched for the king's throat. Using every ounce of muscle he possessed, Rafe fought against the binds, until his heaving breaths echoed across the hall. No matter what he tried, it was useless.

"Where's Lyana?" he asked, still fighting, not giving up. "Is she safe? I demand to see her. Take me to her."

The king arched a brow. "I really don’t believe you're in any position to be making demands."

"Where is she?" He strained until he thought the veins in his neck might burst. "Tell me."

"Is he always like this?" The king