numb feeling in his soul.
58
Cassi
Cassi couldn’t sleep. Her legs bounced. Her fingers twiddled. Her heart pounded in a frenzied, uncontrollable way. She was acting more like Lyana than herself. Every sound made her jump. Every whiff of magic in the air made her pause. Every muscle in her body was tense and taut and ready to fly into action.
The sign would come.
She didn’t know what or when or how, but it would come. Because Lyana was the one they’d all been waiting for. The queen that would save the world. The one who was prophesized.
She was.
Though, to be fair, she hardly looked like a woman of legend as she catapulted into Cassi’s room in the soft light of dawn, flying through the curtains at a breakneck speed and stopping dead at the foot of the bed, wide-eyed and in a panic. No. She looked like absolute hell.
Cassi jumped to her feet immediately, reaching for her friend.
Lyana crumpled into her waiting arms. “Cassi, I— I— Please, just…help.”
They tackled the easy things first—her messy hair, her puffy eyelids, her wrinkled gown. And though Cassi wanted to tell Lyana there was no reason to cry, no reason for all the hurt, that there would be no vows today, that bigger, better things awaited, she kept her mouth shut. She did as her king bid.
She waited, because the sign was coming.
Any second.
Any moment.
It was coming.
It had to.
59
Rafe
He woke alone, in crumpled sheets that still smelled like her. A single white feather sat on the pillow beside his head, mocking him. Rafe snatched it in a fist, and then paused. He sat up and opened his palm, looking at the now bent and wrinkled plume, and used his other fingers to smooth out the rough edges he’d created. In one swift, determined move, he rolled from his bed, gently tucked the feather into his already packed bag, and sealed it shut.
He was leaving.
There was no other option.
Not now.
Movements hasty, he threw on his leathers and shoved his feet into his boots. The only time he slowed down was as he strapped the blades to his back, sliding the scabbards around his shoulders and between his wings. It was the only part of that morning that had felt natural, had felt right. The rest was rushed and wrong, and the worst hadn’t even come yet.
Facing Xander.
Saying goodbye.
Forcing a smile to his lips as he lied through his teeth.
That was the part he dreaded, the part that left his insides in knots.
One step at a time, he told himself. Take it one step at a time. Walk across the room. Open the door. Go to Xander’s suite. Don’t think about what to say or how. Just focus on your feet, and on taking one step at a time.
So he did.
He strode across the room, twisted the knob, opened the door, and—
He stopped dead.
Xander was there waiting, a vacant look in his eyes as they lifted to find Rafe’s. Before he had time to gather his wits, Xander stepped past him and made his way inside, attention jumping from the bed to the bags to the balcony, quick, quick, quick, before settling on Rafe.
“Morning, brother.”
The voice sounded unlike anything he’d ever heard from Xander before. A shadow with no color, no light, just dull shades of gray. No life. Just noise.
“Xander, I—” But his own throat choked him, tight and void of both words and breath.
A strange smile passed over Xander’s lips, as though he were laughing at something that wasn’t funny at all. “Are you leaving?”
Rafe’s gaze dropped to the bags on the floor. “I was going to find you first, to say goodbye.”
“How thoughtful."
Though the sentiment expressed was meant to be pleasant, Rafe couldn’t ignore the ominous undertone, as if on a hot summer day a cool lake hid some silent beast, luring one closer before the kill. He licked his lips as he frowned.
Something was wrong.
Something was terribly, terribly wrong.
“I— I’m not sure where I’m going yet, but as soon as I get there, I’ll write…” He trailed off quietly as Xander knelt, black wings expanding to hide his torso from sight as he picked something up off the floor.
Rafe’s heart dropped.
“Did you know our mothers were friends once?” Xander murmured, still crouching on the ground.
“No,” he rasped.
“Your mother was my mother’s chambermaid,” Xander continued, motionless. “She knew all my mother’s secrets, all her wishes, all her dreams, all her deepest, darkest fears. She was my mother’s closest friend. One of the few people who