The Hunter and the Mage (The Raven and the Dove #2) - Kaitlyn Davis Page 0,95

else will be dealt with as it comes."

"I can't shut it off, Malek."

"You can. Bury it away. Lock it behind a door. Toss it over a wall. Do whatever you have to do, but living in hypotheticals solves nothing."

"That's easy for you to say."

"Why?"

"Because—" Lyana broke off, taking a deep breath. This wasn't how she'd wanted to have a conversation she'd been thinking about during all the hours alone in her room staring at the fathomless mist. Malek was stubborn, perhaps even more stubborn than her. If she didn't say it right, he'd just shut her down. But she was tired of biting her tongue. "Because your people have nothing to lose."

He froze with his fingers on her thigh. The magic still sinking into her skin was the only part of him that moved. His throat bobbed as he slowly swallowed. "They're your people too."

"I know." She covered his hand with hers, willing him to look at her. He wouldn't. "And I want to end their suffering, but I can't abandon my home. When the rift closes, your people will get the sun and the sky. The mist will clear and with their magic, the possibilities will be endless. But my people? They'll lose everything. Their gods. Their homes. They'll find themselves in a world full of magic, a world they don't understand, a world they've spent their entire lives dreading. Unless they have some warning, some way to prepare, there'll be war, and—"

"No."

"Please, just—"

He dropped her hand and stood. "I know what you're asking, and the answer is no."

"Malek—"

"If there is war, so be it." The coldness in the words hit her like a winter storm, stealing the breath from her lungs, leaving a burning ache behind. "The rift is all that matters."

Not to me.

She could already see it—ferro'kine magic slashing swords at their throats and pyro'kine fire burning their wings. The people of her world were afraid of magic, and after living in the mist, she realized they had a right to be. If it came to war, they'd lose. But Malek's people didn't want more suffering. They wanted salvation. If she could keep her people from attacking first, if they had some warning, if she could show them there was nothing to fear, maybe the worst could be prevented. To Lyana, it was worth trying, at the very least.

But Malek would crush those arguments in his clenched fist until they came out as nothing more than dust to be discarded on the wind.

Instead, she said, "I thought you wanted a queen."

"I do." His brows squeezed together as he took a breath. She could almost see his wall lower then go back up, blocking the light from his eyes. "In all decisions except for this."

"That's not how it works," she said, tired of only being heard when it was convenient for him. "The day we met, you said you trusted only yourself. Maybe that's the problem. Even if I master my magic, we'll never save the world, Malek. Not like this. If you can't learn to trust me, then all of this is moot. I'm not the only one who has some learning to do. You need to listen to me. You might not always agree, but you need to let me have a voice. Part of being a king or a queen is being a leader, and if we can't come together, then our people never will. I don’t want to save one world only to destroy another."

"Lyana—"

"I don't want an answer now," she said, finally the one to cut their argument short. The sound of shuffling feet and clanking metal announced their arrival at the castle. At any moment the boat would come to a stop. "I wouldn't believe it. Like you said, pretty words are useless. Practice trusting me like I practice my magic. Let it build bit by bit over time. Come to my room tomorrow. Let's see if I can touch the rift. And we'll take the rest from there."

They stared at each other across what seemed an impassable divide.

With a sigh, he turned and left. The door closed behind him, and she listened to the pounding of his boots as he strode across the deck and disembarked. Only when it was quiet did Lyana finally stand and lift her arms over her head, stretching both her body and her wings, easing the last of the aches away. Her ivory feathers were the tiniest bit longer than earlier that day, a side effect