even bothering to pump because, well, birds of prey didn’t have to. The skinned carcass of a bear was draped over her shoulders, its head worn like a hood as she drifted, unbothered by the weight. Soon enough, she disappeared into the hollow of the atrium. Rafe caught a glimpse of her wings lazily flapping as she rose, no doubt circling the palace core, and then he saw her twice more at the very end of a death dive, rearing back seconds before her head splattered against the floor, not once losing hold of the fur on her back.
Rafe dropped back to the ground as he imagined the words being said inside by the King of the House of Prey, an eagle just like his daughter: May I present Thea Pallieus, born of the god Pallius, Crown Princess of the House of Prey. May we gift our offering to the god Aethios in the name of Pallius, god of the hunt. A bear skin and other furs to keep you gentle doves nice and warm in this barren winter wasteland you’ve been forced to call home, all so someone is around to give the ever-demanding Aethios the endless amounts of love and attention he requires so that he doesn’t drop all of our homes from the sky and let them vanish in the Sea of Mist.
Or, well, something like that.
Rafe sighed as his feet touched gravel, shifting his weight from one side to the other, anxious to reach the end of the night. The more quickly the trials came to an end, the more quickly he could put the ring back around his brother’s neck, go home, and forget this trip ever happened.
The towering front door of the crystal palace slid open, and the troop of owls that had been in line before him disappeared inside. He’d overheard their crown prince’s name, Nico, as well as that of his sister, Coralee, and he already knew the House of Wisdom’s offering would be a carafe of oil and a blank parchment where all the mate matches would be recorded at the end of the trials to be taken to their secret library for safekeeping. They were the guardians of history, the archivists and academics, serving Meteria, the god of intellect, which of course meant their performance would be a total snore—and something he had no interest in observing.
Instead, he turned back to the dozen ravens around him, trying to find the words for a rousing speech—the sort Xander might have made had he been where he should have been as the rightful crown prince.
All Rafe came up with was, “I know most of you don’t like me, but this isn’t about me. It’s about our house, about giving Taetanos the respect he deserves, so let’s all try to remember that and get this thing over with. All right?”
Admittedly, not the best, but it would do.
Rafe sighed and shook his head as he turned, wishing Xander were there, wishing Xander were with him. But he was alone. And the only thing that kept him going was the anticipation of the queen’s face when he brought a princess home for her son. He would be the savior of the ravens, an outcast no more.
The door swung open.
Rafe flew inside, not bothering to turn and see if the guards followed, trusting them to do exactly what he was doing—honoring the request of his crown prince.
The hall was nearly silent as he entered. There was only the gentle shifting of air as thirteen sets of wings flapped, not putting on a show—not yet. But still, he could feel the gaping stares, the curious eyes. By the time they had cleared the first half of the hall, a buzz of whispers started to follow them, growing into a soft hum to match the beat of his wings. Being gawked at didn’t make him uncomfortable. He was used to it by now. But his throat went dry as he struggled to keep his gaze forward, fighting the yearning pull to search the crowd for a set of ivory wings that was sure to stand out from the pack.
Stay focused.
Stay on task.
He swallowed, resisting the urge as they crossed the remainder of the hall and entered the atrium. Rafe dropped to his feet and his guards followed, the click of their boots loud in the silence. An excited prickle in the air grew as he let the silence stretch, let their anticipation grow, let them wonder if that