The Hunter and the Mage (The Raven and the Dove #2) - Kaitlyn Davis Page 0,87

striking Malek in the chest. He flinched, but it was excitement, not anger, that lit his eyes.

"Spirits are simple to control," he said, the slightest challenge in his voice. "It's the elements that are the hardest to contain."

The elements. The elements.

Lyana stared at the wind pummeling her body and sank deeper into her power, trying to see beyond the magic, beyond the invisible tendrils of air, into the very essence of what held it all together, the matter that connected the world, united it, the very same thing which flooded her veins—spirit.

Viktor's spirit was easy to see, like a golden star planted beneath his skin, oozing vitality and life. She could sense his pains and his desires, the loneliness creeping across his limbs, the deep void at the center of his soul, filled with nothing but ebony loss. Malek was right. Human hearts were easy to understand, and she recognized every bit of agony and ecstasy painting his essence. But what did the air want? What did the sky yearn for? What desperate hopes were carried in a breeze?

The elements lived differently, but maybe they weren't so hard to understand. The air was wild, always blowing, always gusting, always searching for new lands. Sometimes it wanted to rage in a tempest that made the earth tremble. Sometimes it was tender, the softest breeze against a cheek like the touch of a long-lost friend. Right now, the wind barreled into her like a prisoner pounding at the walls, forced and coerced by human hands, but wanting nothing more than to be free.

A golden sheen flashed across the air, like a jewel catching the sun. Lyana gripped the spirit with her power.

Go, she commanded. Fly.

For a moment, nothing happened. The world was still, including the wind, which had paused, trapped between two warring forces of magic.

All at once, it exploded.

Wind lashed across the practice grounds, tossing Malek and his mages onto their backs, slamming into Viktor's chest, and whirling up into the sky. Lyana crumpled, landing on her hands and knees in the sand as the air released her. Her lungs burned and she panted, but she didn’t feel tired—not exactly. Exhilaration struck like a dagger on flint, igniting something within her. She found Malek's eyes across the field.

Had Cassi been there, she would have been waiting with a wisecrack on her lips. If it were Xander, there would have been cheerful praise. Rafe would have been beside her on the wall, panting next to her on the ground, stuck in a mess she'd dragged them both into. But Malek was different, and she wasn't at all surprised to see him simply stand, wipe the sand from his trousers, and cross his arms, a delighted glimmer in his stormy eyes.

"It's a start," he said, breaking the silence. "Nyomi, you’re next."

With a grunt, Lyana stood and crossed the field for a face-off against the water mage. Her body ached, but what did that matter? When the time to save the world came, she hardly imagined the dragons would wait for a day when she was well-rested and at peak strength. Fighting through exhaustion was just part of the job.

The woman across from her was a few inches shorter than Lyana, though that meant nothing. Malek surrounded himself with the best, which Nyomi undoubtedly was. Her dark brown hair was knotted atop her head like armor, and there was something steely in her golden eyes. Sapphire glitter danced at her fingertips. Just like that, the match was on.

A tunnel of seawater rose over the edge of the wall and splashed down, a liquid snake slithering closer, ready to swallow Lyana whole. She sprinted out of the way, then dove behind Malek and the three mages watching beside him.

Stop.

The command shot across the field to wrap around Nyomi like a vice. But it was just her body that froze, not her mind and not her magic. Another jet of water shot over the walls, smacking into Lyana's face and knocking her over. Whatever hold she had on Nyomi's spirit vanished in an instant. By the time she got to her feet, another liquid serpent charged. Lyana dove, using Malek as a shield again. Instead of touching him, the water parted around him, then rejoined. The last thing Lyana saw was his cocked brow before the stream slammed into her chest, barreling her over.

Stop.

Nyomi froze.

Turn around, now, Lyana commanded, gripping the woman's spirit, ignoring how wrong it felt to bend someone to her will. This was