from happiness. What else would make her cry?
“Lyana,” he whispered.
“Thank you, Xander,” she murmured, blinking fast as she took his hand and held it firmly. “You’re a better mate than I deserve.”
Before he could respond or refute her assertion, the tune shifted to something livelier. Lyana’s wings stretched as she bounced on her feet, twirling in place, leaning her head back for a moment to look up at the sky. He followed her steps, pushing the questions and the doubts to the place where all his ugliness lay, forcing himself to ignore the subtle confession in her words, something he didn’t understand—or maybe just didn’t want to.
More dancers joined in the merriment. They formed lines and switched partners, and Xander lost himself in the movement, finding Lyana’s eyes through the crowd, watching her bright smile shine against her dark skin, admiring the way her beaded gown glittered in the light. These were his people. That was his mate. And he refused to allow the sinking feeling in his stomach to ruin his good time.
55
Rafe
He watched from the shadows, leaning around the edge of the roofline. The celebration was happening so close and yet so very far away. Rafe couldn’t make out their faces or hear the music or follow the dance, but he could feel the joy in the air, palpable, so rich he feared he might choke on it.
His eyes went straight to the white wings in a sea of black, but that wasn’t what truly caught his attention. It was her gown, glimmering as the golden beads and gems sewn onto the tight bodice and trailing skirt reflected the flames.
She was magic come to life.
Her magic.
Yearning seared his insides. Rafe tore his eyes away and rolled over shingles, returning to the darkness where he belonged. No one noticed his presence, just as no one would notice his absence when he decided to disappear—no one except Xander. But his brother was the very reason he had to leave. Rafe was one breath away from making a mistake he could never take back, right on the brink of a line he knew he should never cross—a line he would cross if he stayed.
But when to leave?
And how?
Would it be a gift to simply leap from this roof and soar away without so much as a goodbye? No explanation he could give Xander would suffice, so maybe it would be best not to even try. To vanish into the night.
No.
He couldn’t do that.
Xander would fear the worst. He’d worry. He’d go looking for him across all the isles. Rafe couldn’t do that to him. Couldn’t cause him more pain.
He would find his brother tomorrow, before the ceremony, and say he needed to chart his own course, forge a new path in a new place without the stigma of his past. He’d promise to return soon, promise to write. He'd do it fast and quick, before Xander had a chance to say no.
That was the only way.
The only plan.
Rafe dropped to his back and stared up at the sky, little more than a black blur as his mind whirled, swirling with all the what ifs. He rubbed his face and placed his arms over his head in an act of surrender. With his wings spread flat across the shingles, he bent his legs to keep from sliding down the roof. It was mindless movement.
Rafe was somewhere else.
He was the little boy sitting by the fire, playing with toys, as his mother hummed softly from the vanity in the corner of the room, brushing her long black hair, a soft smile on her lips. She’d always seemed happy, content with her life. But had that been the na?ve musing of a boy who never realized, not until long after she’d died, that loving his father had destroyed her life? Her station had been stripped. She’d been shunned. Even her parents had turned their backs on her, so decisively Rafe didn’t even know who they were. No one had ever stepped forward to claim him, the fire-cursed child who had brought the dragon to their home, though sometimes, when he passed older couples on the street, he searched for some glimmer of recognition in their eyes. Would she do it all again if she knew what her life would be reduced to? Three walls, a balcony so far underground no one would see her if she stepped into the light, and a cursed child who was doomed to repeat all her mistakes.
Given the chance,