The Raven and the Dove (The Raven and the Dove #1) - Kaitlyn Davis Page 0,81

both deceived. But at least Xander had seemed apologetic, regretful, maybe even ashamed.

Rafe had been nothing more than an ass.

A complete and total ass.

Aethios help me, it’s a good thing I’m not actually mated to such an arrogant prick. The nerve of him last night. The absolute nerve.

Oh, she could just scream with frustration.

Don’t think about it.

Don’t think about him.

She reminded herself, over and over, not to even consider him, taking a deep breath as she realized her wings had propelled her out of formation, fueled by the annoyance flaming across her limbs.

The feeling of eyes on her made Lyana turn. Cassi watched her with a concerned yet amused expression on her face, able to read every wayward thought in Lyana’s head as though her misfortunes were somehow entertaining. She wrinkled her nose at her friend and shifted her eyes back to the mist. The Sea of Mist. The thing Lyana had been waiting an entire life to traverse. The thing that had filled her daydreams for as long as she could remember. A thing of myth. Of magic. Of…

Within minutes, her eyes were no longer on the thick carpet of gray, but on the prince, her mind wandering yet again. But she kept her focus acutely on Xander, studying the pumping of his obsidian wings, how they glistened in the sunlight, how he seemed stronger in the air than he’d seemed on land, more confident, more compelling. Her match. Her mate.

What would their life be like?

With her, he was nervous and unsure, hesitant to make an approach, but she’d watched him interact with his guards, with the small raven woman who seemed to be a captain of some sort, with his brother, with the queen. He smiled. He laughed, a loud sound pulled from the depths of his belly, pure and honest. It made her smile just to hear it. Who was the real prince? Was he docile or assured? Would he ever understand a princess like her?

Or would she always be a lone dove among ravens?

An outsider?

A stranger?

Lyana’s gaze dropped again, this time finding solace in the blanket of fog stretching like a warm bed, soft and alluring, solid and steadfast. Would she regret not taking this chance to disappear into the mist and fly free?

A loud whistle pierced her thoughts.

All thoughts of escape vanished. They had arrived at The House of Whispers. It was little more than a black speck floating on the horizon, but a shot of energy pulsed through her, making her wings beat faster as her heart sped to match her excitement.

A new place.

A new land.

A new home.

Lyana shifted from her spot in the middle of the flock, swerving around bodies, fighting for the unobstructed view at the front of the group. Cassi had undoubtedly followed, but Lyana couldn’t look to check. Her eyes were glued to the island growing larger and larger with each passing second, an island completely different from her home. Not made of flat expanses of endless white. Not frigid and frozen. Not barren, but brimming with life.

Everything was green—so green.

A lush forest extended all the way from the tops of mountain peaks, down, down, down, practically spilling over the edge, where dirt gave way to air. There were more shades of that single color than she’d ever thought possible—some deep and dark and full of secrets, others glimmering and glistening with the reflection of the sun. Lyana had been in the greenhouses of her home, where they grew food supplied by the other houses, but the plants in there had been arranged and organized, carefully trimmed and tended. Colorful and beautiful, yet controlled.

This was wild.

This was chaotic.

This was life.

And Lyana breathed it in as she ignored the flock and finally did the thing she’d been aching to do all day—she plunged into the unknown. Within seconds, she’d landed hard against the ground, dropping to a crouch so she could dig her hands into the leaves and dirt covering the forest floor, amazed that her fingers didn’t freeze. The air here was thicker, richer, full of some invisible thing her sterile home had been unable to produce.

Lyana soared toward the nearest tree, and landed on a thick branch. Pressing her palms against the trunk, she marveled at the scratchy texture—moist and dirty, but so pure. Deep in her chest, Lyana’s magic surged to life, as though the tree had a soul and was talking to hers, drawing out her power. The rustle of waxy leaves was a sweet melody to