The Raven and the Dove (The Raven and the Dove #1) - Kaitlyn Davis Page 0,135

used his size and skill to overwhelm her, but not trying. Because it was Cassi. His friend, he’d thought, after so many hours spent on the practice fields together.

“Why are you here? Why are you doing this?”

Cassi discarded the bow and reached for her sword, silver eyes as sharp as the blade in her hands. “It’s not personal, Rafe.”

He snorted and stepped closer.

She stepped back and to the side.

They circled, locking eyes as they sized each other up in the narrow space of the room. Rafe was used to fighting in open skies and large arenas, where he could fly and swing his arms without fear of obstacles. But this was different. His mother’s rooms were modest. The floor was littered with furniture half-eaten by flames. The light was poor. The ceiling low. And already, the air had grown cloudy with the dust wafting up from their footsteps.

“We both know I’m better with a sword,” he said, trying to give her a way out of the mess she’d started.

Cassi lifted a single brow, tilting her head. “Do we?”

She attacked.

Rafe jerked back, surprised at her speed. Cassi swung, the arc wide over her head. Rafe met her blow with both swords raised, taking the force of her assault easily. But he realized too late that the move was a distraction. As soon as his blades met hers, she dropped and spun, reaching for a dagger hidden at her back and cutting a deep slice into his thigh. A cloud of dust burned his eyes as she pumped her wings, retreating before he could counterattack. Magic flared, traveling down his body to the gash.

“You lied,” he said simply, trying to gauge her reaction. As he spoke, Rafe took a few steps to the left, so his back was to the balcony. The tear in his wing was healed enough for him to fly, he hoped. Enough to get away. “About needing my help with a sword. You lied.”

“I lie about a lot of things.” Cassi shrugged. The words and the gesture were casual, but a tight gulp followed, revealing a different emotion.

“What other things?” He was buying time to take a deep breath, preparing to release his raven cry. Those few precious seconds of her confusion were all he would need to get away.

“There’s a whole world you don’t know about, Rafe,” Cassi murmured, her gaze flicking over his shoulder. “But you will.”

She threw the dagger in her hand.

He had no choice but to step to the side once more to avoid the blade, and now the balcony no longer presented as an easy dive behind him. Before he found his balance, she tugged another knife from her belt and sent it flying. The point landed in his abdomen, making him stumble back into the wall. Cassi swung her blade. He barely had time to lift his forearm and catch the blow with the hide of his jacket, laced with metal to act as a shield. He pushed her away with a kick to the chest and stood, ripping the dagger so his flesh could reseal, grunting as his magic flowed, bringing cool relief to the fire simmering beneath his skin.

But Cassi wasn’t giving him time to heal or time to take the breath needed to release his godly cry. After so many hours of sparring with him, she knew exactly how he’d attack and how he’d retreat, exactly where he’d go, as though she’d catalogued every minute of their time on the practice fields, storing it for this very moment. She was fast, incredibly fast as she dealt different blows, fighting in a way he wasn’t used to—not going for the kill, not going for the big, debilitating wound, but taking small jabs here and there whenever the opportunity provided, enough to make his magic slow and laborious, stealing half of his attention away.

And she had an advantage.

She fought with heart—with purpose. A fire lit her eyes. Energy reinforced her movements. Determination hardened her gut.

But Rafe was empty.

He was alone. He’d already lost everything. Did it matter if he lost his life, too?

No one would even realize. Xander thought he was leaving, never to return. Lyana had snuck from his room that morning without so much as a goodbye. The queen and everyone in the House of Whispers would rejoice to hear the fire-cursed bastard had finally fled their small isle, disappearing without a trace.

Maybe he was always meant to die in this room, surrounded by his parents’ ashes—the spot where