The Raven and the Dove (The Raven and the Dove #1) - Kaitlyn Davis Page 0,76
let her lips spread into a wry smile. “Then I guess we both got what we wanted.” She stood, ending the moment, whatever it was. “Thank you for the blanket, but the sun is nearly down, so we should probably go inside.”
The princess held out the fur to him, and he took it. Their fingers brushed and they both hastily retreated, letting go at the same time. A gust of wind snatched the blanket, lifting it into the sky so it looked like a living thing as it wriggled in the air, then dropped beneath the edge, fluttering as though it had wings. Either one of them could have raced to retrieve it, but they didn’t. They stayed there, watching it disappear.
“Lysander,” she murmured. The word rolled from her lips, dipped in honey, tantalizing and smooth, as though his name were something precious, as though it held power. The sound sent a tingling down his spine.
He looked at her.
But she’d already turned around. Before he could ask why she’d said his name, her luminescent ivory wings flapped, leaving nothing but a plume of snow in her wake.
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Rafe
Rafe must have paced the length of his room a hundred times in a row—walking to the door, pausing, shaking his head, returning to the bed, stopping just shy of lying down, turning, marching back to the door, over and over and over, until his mind was dizzy.
He had to talk to her one last time—but he shouldn’t.
He wanted to explain—but what would he say?
It would be for Xander. At least, that was what he told himself. That he’d be going there for Xander, to praise his brother, to ease her fears, to give the two of them a better shot at getting to know each other.
For Xander, he thought, standing before the door, hand hovering over the knob but not quite touching it. For Xander. For Xander. For—
The door shot open.
Rafe recoiled, narrowly avoiding a plank of wood to the face as he jumped away. The princess marched in, silently shut the door behind her, and whipped around to face him, features charged.
“Your name,” she ordered, not a question. Her ivory wings were wide. Her arms were crossed. Her hip was cocked to the side. Everything about her oozed superiority and ire. Her haughty airs immediately set him on edge.
“No.”
Her eyes flashed like lightning in a storm. “No?”
Rafe shrugged. “No.”
“Tell me your name,” she commanded, somewhere between disbelief and indignation.
He could have given in.
He should have given in—gotten it over quickly, told her what she wanted to know and then forced her to leave before any of the sleeping ravens around them woke up.
But he didn’t.
And he really didn’t care to linger on the reasoning.
“Why?” he asked instead, unable to stop the smile rising to his lips.
Hers curled. “Are you really refusing to tell me your name?”
“No,” he said lightly. “If you tell me why you want to know so badly that you barged into my room in the middle of the night, I’ll tell you what it is.”
“I could just ask the prince,” she countered, narrowing her eyes.
“You could.”
“Or anyone else.”
“So why didn’t you?”
Her nose wrinkled in annoyance. Something about the gesture was undeniably endearing. He looked away from her, toward the curtains he’d drawn earlier that night, as though he’d somehow known something would happen that he didn’t want the outside world to witness.
“Please. I only know you as Lysander, but now he’s Lysander, and…” She trailed off as her wings dipped low enough for her primaries to slouch against the floor. Her features fell with them. And when she spoke again, her voice was hardly an echo of the vivacious girl he’d grown used to. “Just please.”
He ached to cross the room, to press his hand to her cheek, to bring a smile back to her lips.
He curled his fingers into fists instead, because if he did any of those things, whatever had happened between them in that cave would become real—not a secret in the dark, but something tangible in the light, and he couldn’t let that happen.
He had to bury those stolen hours in the shadows.
He had to snuff the fire out.
“Rafe,” he answered gruffly.
“Huh?”
“My name is Rafe.”
She frowned. “That’s not a name.”
“Well, it’s the only one you’re going to get.” She stepped back at his rough tone. He stepped forward. “Is there anything else I can help you with, Princess?”
“I—” She shook her head as if to clear it. “Is that all? You’re not going to apologize?”