The Raven and the Dove (The Raven and the Dove #1) - Kaitlyn Davis Page 0,9

and tightened his grip on the only weapon he’d ever bothered to learn how to use, a single throwing dagger.

Rafe wouldn't have it. He dropped into Xander’s space and grabbed the front of his jacket, holding his brother in place and forcing him to listen. “You are the crown prince of the House of Whispers, the sole heir to the throne, and your life is too important to risk. So, go. Get the others, right now. This isn’t an argument. If the dragon attacks, I’ll keep it distracted until you return with backup.”

Xander pursed his lips, biting his tongue.

Rafe refused to back down.

The two brothers stared at each other, their eyes flickering with the memories of that long-ago night, the night that had made Rafe an orphan and Xander a king far, far too soon.

“Go,” Rafe murmured, his voice deep.

For once, Xander relented. He held Rafe’s gaze for one more moment, a violet streak of pain across his irises, before racing away.

Rafe watched until his brother was nothing more than a dot on the horizon. Then he turned to face his target, pulling his twin swords from the X-shaped scabbard resting in the hollow between his wings and drawing strength from the way the steel sang as it slid free. The dragon circled, a lazy hunter on the prowl, flying higher and higher, snout lifted as though following a scent in the air.

At the sound of Rafe’s blade, it looked up.

Something sparked like metal on flint.

Hatred lit those blood-red eyes, a reflection of the loathing in Rafe’s gut. Always there. Always churning. A living, breathing beast no different from the one flying toward him now. Fire erupted from the dragon’s slick scales, sizzling with heat. The burnt, acrid flavor of smoke filled the air—a taste Rafe would never forget. When the beast released another roar, the wind seemed to shudder, as though the entire world answered to the thunder within that call.

Lightning traveled down his spine.

Rafe tried to blink away the images, but he couldn’t. They came too fast to slow down, a flood rush from a broken dam, too overpowering to fight. Just like that, he was five years old—wings hardly more than fluff as he sat with his mother and father, late in the night, the only time they spent together. The weather had been particularly lovely that evening. Rafe could still envision his mother mentioning the beauty of the night, her blue eyes shifting toward the stars as they twinkled across the clear sky. His father, upon hearing the words, had rolled from the bed, walked to the balcony, and flung the curtains wide open to let the cool breeze in.

Even now, Rafe could almost feel the brush of wind against his cheek. It had been crisp yet not cold, perfectly balanced against the hot fire crackling in the corner of the room. He had been ill that night, body racked with fever and nausea. His mother had set him near the flames to still the trembling, tingling pricks that seemed to come from the inside out, from somewhere deep within him. That fresh breeze on his sweating brow had been so welcome, until they heard the roar.

Get to the prince, his mother had demanded.

But his father had shaken his head, gaze darting to the orange glow growing stronger and stronger across the night sky. I won’t leave you. I won’t leave our son.

Go, you must.

It had been too late. Before she’d even finished the words, a sea of flames swept across the balcony and into their room, then another, and another. Rafe could remember nothing more than pain and screams and that burning, acrid smell as his vision went dark and his body cried out in agony.

He’d heard the rest of the story from Xander. How the beast had breathed fire into all the lowest layers of the castle, then landed in the courtyard. How it had taken twenty soldiers to finally bring it down and countless more to douse the flames. How it had stolen more than fifty lives with its raging blaze and razor-sharp teeth. Xander had watched the battle from his rooms at the top of the castle, safe and guarded, before running down to the servant quarters to ensure Rafe was all right. Xander had found him buried beneath the charred bodies of his parents. Injured, but still breathing. Alive, somehow, even though everyone else in that section of the castle had perished.

The queen wanted to execute him. The people cried out