The Raven and the Dove (The Raven and the Dove #1) - Kaitlyn Davis Page 0,114

this. To help people.”

“Even if we were, what are you planning to do?” Rafe asked, pointedly eying her wings. “You don’t exactly blend in as it is, and if anyone sees you, they won’t care that you think your power is a gift from the gods. They’ll label it magic and condemn you.”

“I brought a large cloak,” she said slowly.

Rafe noticed the black fabric in her hands, which she rung with her fingers, and he couldn’t help it—he bent over at the waist as laughter erupted, heavy with disbelief. For a moment, he really thought he was losing his mind. “A cloak?”

Lyana crossed her arms and glared. One white wing whipped around, shoving his shoulder and sending him off balance. “I wasn’t finished,” she practically snarled. “I brought a large cloak, so once we get on the other side of the castle wall, it’ll cover my wings, and we can walk from house to house instead of flying. It’ll take longer, but we have less of a chance of being seen. Xander told me the healers were giving all the injured sleeping tonics, so they shouldn’t wake up if we sneak in, and either way, I’ll keep the hood up so my face is covered in shadow. I noticed that nearly every house in Pylaeon has a balcony of some kind by all the windows, so it should be easy enough to slip in and out quickly.”

The gods.

It actually wasn’t a completely horrible plan.

“How are you planning to get out of the castle unseen?" he asked, not yet willing to agree. "You can’t fly, not with those white feathers of yours.”

Lyana smiled sweetly. “That’s where I was hoping you might be able to help.”

Rafe groaned and rubbed his face, his mind in turmoil. On the one hand, it was the most reckless idea he’d ever heard. On the other, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to live with himself if ravens died when he could have helped save them—or if something happened to the princess. The gleam in her eye said she wouldn’t take no for an answer, and he had the horrible feeling that even if he didn’t accompany her, she’d go through with her plan anyway. Rafe knew what happened to ravens caught with magic—the sound sometimes haunted his dreams, that unmistakable whistle of the executioner’s blade slicing through air before a dry thud announced the job was done. Beheadings were public affairs, though he could never bring himself to watch. Instead, he’d observe the crowd. Sometimes, that was worse. The cries of the loved ones. The cheers from everyone else. The haunting fear in Xander’s eyes as he glanced at Rafe, wondering if he would be next.

No.

He couldn’t let that happen.

Not to her.

“I know a way,” he admitted. The words came out in the barest whisper, as though his throat had fought to keep them in. “There’s a passage. My father once used it to sneak my mother into the castle, before he had rooms set up for her among the servants'. Xander and I used it as boys. It’s old, as old as the castle itself. My brother and I used to wonder if it came from a time before the isles were lifted into the sky, when war was common and quick escapes more common still.”

As he spoke, Lyana’s eyes shone with intrigue. She clasped her hands to her chest, fingertips turning pink from being squeezed so tightly.

Rafe shook his head.

What had he gotten himself into?

“Let’s go,” Lyana blurted, taking a step toward the door.

“Hold on.” Rafe grabbed her arm. “Let me see the cloak first.”

Lyana obliged and threw the fabric over her shoulders. It was a deep-black velvet, expensive but not necessarily royal. There were no jewels or gems on it, no markings of any kind, and from a distance, it might pass for something cheaper. Most importantly, when the hood was pulled up, it fell all the way to her nose, making him wonder if she could see. The back was voluminous enough to cover her wings and still trail on the floor.

“Where in all the houses did you find this?” he asked in wonder.

Lyana dropped the hood as she pulled the fabric close. “My grandmother was a, shall we say, large woman, and she used to complain that her wings would get cold when she ventured outside, so my grandfather had this made as a gift. When she passed, he gave it to me because I loved how much it still smelled