The Raven and the Dove (The Raven and the Dove #1) - Kaitlyn Davis Page 0,15

up into the vast sky—a sky that was clear of fire and smoke, filled only with endless blue.

He’s alive.

He’s alive.

Xander refused to believe otherwise—even as he stared at the blood, watching the puddle spread. It reached the edge of the sky bridge and started dripping over the side, drop after drop after drop falling into the unknown world below.

Then he noticed something else—a footprint.

“Hold,” he shouted over his shoulder, raising his arm. Xander didn’t turn to see whether the guards had stopped, because they were loyal to their crown prince, and he knew without a doubt they would obey. With his eyes glued to the red footprint, he stepped closer. Holding his boot above the spot, he sucked in a breath as hope formed like a bright star in his chest.

The print was small—smaller than his—which meant it was smaller than Rafe’s.

“Someone was here,” he whispered to himself, then shifted position again, using his wings to hover above the blood, careful not to disturb it.

“My prince,” a voice called. Xander spun toward the sound, recognizing his captain of the guards, the woman he liked to consider his top advisor instead of the stuffy nobles his mother kept around her. Helen was a small raven, but her skills with a throwing dagger were astonishing, and her mind for politics was even sharper than the blades she wielded so well. “Your brother’s weapons.”

She gestured toward the two blades tossed haphazardly across the barren, frozen ground. Xander flew toward them and knelt to pick one up with his left hand. The sword was heavy, the hilt wrapped with black leather. He’d seen it enough times to know it was his brother’s, and that the other was its twin. Yet the blade felt cumbersome in his hand. Xander had abandoned sword play a long time ago, preferring books and debate to the practice fields. But today was one of the times he wished he could move like his brother, with his strength and abilities. Had that been the case, he would have stayed. He would have fought. He would know what had happened.

Then you’d be dead too, Rafe’s voice said, popping into his thoughts.

Xander dropped the sword and shook the comment away.

Because Rafe was alive.

He had to be.

And it was a good thing his brother wasn’t the crown prince. Rafe would have leaped over the edge searching for vengeance, would have sped across the land after a body, would have screamed his frustration for all the gods to hear. He would have been angry and rash. He would have missed all the signs.

But Xander was patient and observant. He stood, eyes narrowed as he took in the scene, reining his emotions in, refusing to allow doubts and fears to get the best of him. They never had before, and they wouldn’t today. Not when his brother needed him.

The evidence left behind was a puzzle he intended to solve. The swords. The scorch marks. The footprint. Xander’s gaze darted around the open field, to the sky bridge, the edge, and the cliffs beyond. His soldiers waited patiently, hovering above his head, knowing how their prince worked. Slowly but surely, the pieces came together.

“The dragon must have caught him as he flew up and over the edge,” Xander said, half to himself and half to Helen and the guards, eyes traveling along the scorch marks staining the frozen ground.

If he knew his brother, Rafe would have started the battle in the channel, a narrow space that might give him the upper hand. Clearly, something had gone wrong and he’d needed to flee. But the dragon had caught him.

“You see this?” Xander pointed at the black marks and the lines fanning out. “The flames were coming from the direction of the channel, shooting toward the land from above. They must have caught Rafe here, and…”

Xander followed the soot and ash, stepping through them until he spotted a mess of black, bloodied feathers on the ground. “The beast got him here. It’s where the blood starts. Maybe the dragon nicked him with a fang or a claw, and then slammed Rafe’s wings into the ground. Nothing else could have caused this mess. And in the middle of the beating, he dropped his swords, which is why you found them there.”

He pointed again, pursing his lips as he noticed the pattern in the blood trail leading toward the bridge. “The dragon tossed him, which is why there’s a broken blood trail, from where he skidded across the ground. And