The Raven and the Dove (The Raven and the Dove #1) - Kaitlyn Davis Page 0,44

pearlescent plumage around their necks. And all four males had them—one a simple curly white tendril, one a voluminous train of fluffy yellows and whites, one a ring of gleaming turquoise framing his face, and one a single long plume of deep black.

Lyana couldn’t help but stare, which was the point of the natural display.

Her eyes widened when they started to dance. The four women in the center weaved a circle together, holding hands and releasing them, paying no attention to the men who danced around them. And the men, for their part, did their best to catch their mates' attention. They dove, twirled, and flared their wings, tossing their extra plumage this way and that. There was no music, but somehow, as they moved, Lyana almost heard the melody they created with their bodies. A mating song. A lover’s dance. The women slowly turned their attention outwards, showing interest and retreating, leading the men to make even more dramatic displays of their brightly colored feathers. Lyana’s heart beat faster as the men dove, then became light as air when they soared. By the time they reached the main atrium, she was enraptured, all attempts at a princessly pretense gone.

With the mating pairs set, the dancers descended to the ground as four groups of two, transitioning into duets. With a spin, the women transformed. Their dull tan garments unfurled to reveal brilliant emerald and amethyst silks that flurried like an extra set of wings as they moved. The men held them aloft as they kicked, brown wings synchronized with their limbs, gaining a beauty they hadn’t had moments before. The pairs spun in each other’s arms, nothing but moving swirls of color, twirling so fast Lyana wasn’t sure how they didn’t tangle into a knot and fall. The couples wove in and out, spinning and kicking and leaping and flying, shifting closer and closer, until they all collapsed—the males spreading their wings to cover the bodies of the females.

The hall grew still and the doors at the other end opened again.

Lyana leaned forward in her seat.

A girl with a mask of auburn feathers stepped through the entrance, her wings spread and all her weight balanced on the very tips of her toes. The top of her dress was a corset that seemed molded to her skin and made of liquid jade, and the skirt was short and broken into five sections, parting like violet petals as she glided forward. In a flash, she leapt and began to twirl, spinning and spinning, arching her arms as she raced in a straight line down the center of the floor. Two bare-chested, masked figures followed—a prince with sandy wings and a trail of emerald feathers down either side of his neck, and another with black wings attached by a patch of bright golden-and-sapphire feathers that looked nearly molten as he moved. They chased after their sister, flashing their bright colors, diving in circles around each other, forming a pattern in the air as the girl traced a path along the ground. All three came to an abrupt halt at the foot of the main dais, kneeling before Lyana had a moment to process their display of speed and skill. With bowed heads, each held a vial aloft—medicines, their traditional gift.

The Queen of the House of Paradise stood, her wings a speckled brown, and gestured toward her children. “May I present Milo Mnesmeus, born of the god Mnesme, Crown Prince of the House of Paradise. His sister, Iris Mnesmeus, born of the god Mnesme, Princess of the House of Paradise. And their youngest brother, Yuri Mnesmeus, born of the god Mnesme, Prince of the House of Paradise.”

As the queen listed their names and titles, one of the boys looked up, eyes subtly searching Lyana’s. His deep-green neck plumes perfectly set off the hazel of his irises as his gaze found hers and held it for a moment in evident curiosity. She understood why when her attention shifted to the jade ring dangling from a chain around his neck—the royal seal of his house, stark against the pale skin of his bare chest. He was the crown prince, and as such, he’d be one of her possible suitors.

Unfortunately for him, her mind was already made up.

Lyana blinked, glancing away, as his queen continued.

“May we gift our offering to the god Aethios in the name of Mnesme, god of the arts that preserve life and those that give us reasons to live. Medicines and salves from