The Raven and the Dove (The Raven and the Dove #1) - Kaitlyn Davis Page 0,23

boils had vanished.

It’s impossible, Lyana thought, shaking her head. Impossible. Unless…

Unless he was like her.

Unless, somehow, he had magic too.

Her heart leapt into her throat, excitement explosive as it coursed through her unchecked. Careful not to wake him, she tugged away the furs she had left draped over him, examining the planes of his back. The fabric that had melted onto his frame was still hardened and burnt, but no longer adhered to him like glue. She lifted the scraps away easily, eyes widening as unmarked pearly skin was revealed, practically shimmering against the dark depths of his obsidian feathers.

Lyana paused.

It wasn’t practically shimmering—it was actually shimmering. Silver swirls glowed softly, twirling beneath his skin like the muted glitter of starlight through a gossamer curtain, subtle but undeniable.

Magic.

Lyana lifted her free hand and ran her finger down the center of his spine, mesmerized by the way his muscles and his magic rippled beneath her touch. The contours of his back were well defined, reminding her of the icy hills of her homeland as they sparkled in the sun. But unlike that barren land, he was warm, brimming with life and power. Her mind flashed back to his battle with the dragon—how deftly his onyx wings had soared, how lethal those twin blades had looked in his hands, the authority with which he’d wielded them.

The raven stirred.

Lyana snatched back her fingers, clutching her hand to her chest. But she couldn’t look away as he shifted, groaning in pain twice before falling still once more.

A light flashed from the ground near his neck.

A reflection, she realized as she watched a flame blink on and off and on and off, oscillating. Lyana put down the lantern and reached for the spot, curious as to what had caused the sudden glow.

Shock stole her breath for a second time as she lifted a ring from the rocks, studying the smooth planes of midnight stone, recognizing it immediately—a royal seal. Her father’s was similar, but it was carved from clear diamond, arched into a dome resembling their palace. This gem was so dark it seemed to devour the firelight, smothering the glow with shadow. And the cut was different, in the shape of a V with two tall lines extending from a point and a valley stretching between them. The seal of the House of Whispers.

He’s a prince.

She dropped the ring and sat up, hardly registering as it clinked against the ground. Her mind raced, flashing to the many conversations with Luka and the advisors, when they discussed all the houses and all the royal families—all her possible mates. The House of Whispers only had one heir, a male raven.

He’s the crown prince. Lyana’s eyes widened. The one who’s supposed to be participating in the courtship trials.

Suddenly, everything became clear—why the ravens had asked for a delay, why they had lied about the dragon fight, why they had needed more time.

A shiver ran across the sensitive spot at the base of her neck, making her hair stand on end. Her mind stilled. Her body paused. The sensation crawled over her shoulders, down her back, pulsing with undeniable anticipation, a sizzle firing to life beneath her skin.

Lyana looked away from the ring.

And stared directly into the raven’s open cerulean eyes.

10

Rafe

He remembered her face as though it had come from a dream—those brilliant green eyes that seemed to sparkle like distant stars as they looked down at him in concern. In the memory, her face had been silhouetted by the sun, but he realized now that it was just her natural color, dark and rich, with golden highlights enhanced by the warm fire.

Who was she?

Where had she come from?

The longer they looked at each other, the more space the questions seemed to fill, spreading through his thoughts until he forgot who he was, where he was, aware of nothing but this mysterious beauty before him. His own eyes began to sting, yet he couldn’t blink. He didn’t want to break this moment, didn’t want to end whatever was happening—the undercurrent throbbing in the air between them.

She smiled. Soft, nervous laughter spilled from her lips. Then she glanced away, her bashful gaze dropping to the ground as her shoulders bent forward and her wings curved around her arms as though she were trying to hide.

Rafe moved, attempting to lift his chest from the floor and turn.

Just like that, everything came rushing back.

He hissed with pain as his battered wings cried out, as his healing body shouted at him to