The Sea of Mist was endless. At least, that was how it seemed to Lyana.
For the first few hours of the long journey, the opaque mantle stretching beneath her had been mesmerizing. Every pocket of thinning fog made her breath catch. Every flash of orange made her heart race with excitement. She studied the thick mist as though it were a puzzle to solve. Was that flare of light a dragon? Was that spot of blue the ocean? Was there land or only fire? Did Vesevios wait somewhere in the swirling wisps of gray?
She ached to snap her wings and dive headfirst, plummeting through wind and air, but she didn’t. Not out of fear, but out of duty—a concept that was far more frightening than the fire god would ever be. A concept that began to monopolize her attention as her adventure turned a little, well, tedious, if she were being honest.
The hours stretched.
The scene did too, on and on and on.
The questions of awe and wonder slipped away.
Her mind wandered, and wandered, and wandered…to places she really wished it wouldn’t as her gaze darted to the front of the flock, where the prince and his brother flew side by side, so similar they could have been twins. So why did only one of them make her nostrils flare with barely contained fury? They’d both lied. They’d both deceived. But at least Lysander 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 Lysander, 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 her ears. She darted to another tree, taller and narrower with needles that pricked her fingers and odd little things she knew were pinecones, which she’d never seen before. She plucked one, cupping it as if it might break at any moment, as if it were something precious, though there were probably thousands more hidden within the forest.
By the time her companions landed, Lyana was at a third tree, this one with bark the color of her wings, stark against the curtain of green but striped with brown.
“What is it?” she called without turning to see who waited on the ground beneath her.
The snark in the reply was familiar. “A tree.”
Lyana met Cassi’s gaze with a pointed one of her own. “I know that…”
She cut herself short when a flash of yellow caught her attention, the tree forgotten as she raced to a flower bed, reaching down to run her thumb along a smooth, bright petal. Lyana breathed deeply, a smile passing over her lips as the scent of honey drifted to her nose. “What are these?”
Before anyone could answer, a spot of red berries also drew her eyes. “And these?”
Then a fallen tree, covered in patches of minty stains. “And this?
“And that?
“And those?
“And—”
“Ana!” Cassi finally interrupted, shouting across the forest. “You’re making me dizzy. You’re making us dizzy.”
Lyana hovered in midair and spun, finally remembering she wasn’t alone, and this wasn’t a secret exploration back home. She had an audience—a group of patient guards, a queen who looked unimpressed, a prince who looked amused, and a sullen raven she refused to look at, even for a second. She was supposed to be a princess. Dignified. Controlled. A figurehead.
But—
But—
Oh, I don’t care! Lyana thought as she dropped to the ground, leaves crunching beneath her feet, a sound she’d never heard before—and wasn’t it marvelous? Princess or not, she threw her arms and wings to the side, resisting the urge to spin around, but just barely. “Oh, Cassi, come on. This is amazing!” Lyana shifted her gaze to her mate, brows drawing together. “Don’t you think this is amazing?”
His smile deepened, but he didn’t answer.
Queen Mariam stepped forward, instead. “While I imagine this is quite different from what you’re used to, daughter of Aethios, the sun is beginning to set, and we must be going.”
Lyana kept her eyes on the prince, giving him the chance to defend her, to prove himself, to soar across the clearing, grab her hand, and whisk her on a grand tour of the isle, to surprise her. Thus far, her mate had been a man who had allowed someone else to fight his battles, who had run from a dragon and from the courtship trials, who hadn’t had the nerve to stand up for himself, let alone for her.
She wanted more from him.
She needed more from him.
Especially when, hard as she tried not to, she was comparing him to someone else, someone she’d promised not to look at or think about or speak to ever again.
She ignored the pleading expression from her friend and quietly asked, “Lysander?”
His smile twitched as his focus jumped back and forth between his mother and his mate, the silence stretching. And then his shoulders dropped ever so slightly. “We really should be going, Princess.”
Lyana fought the sensation that the wind had been stolen from her wings, a plummeting sort of feeling. But her sigh was audible, and she couldn’t keep her face from drooping along with her feathers. “Yes, of course,” she murmured, catching Cassi’s eye for a moment before quickly sliding hers away. “Let’s be on our way.”
Lyana didn’t miss the quick motion of an ebony wing stretching and shoving the prince forward an inch, but she refused to look at the source of the gesture. Her mind wandered where her eyes would not, drifting back to the night where her hands were pressed against his bare skin, in the muscular valley between his wings. Lyana blinked the vision away, focusing only on the words he’d spoken as he told her of his home—the mountains, the river, the city nestled in a valley, and the godly entrance to another world.
“Taetanos’s Gate,” Lyana exclaimed suddenly, some of her enthusiasm returning as she remembered the House of Whispers had much more to offer than the forest around her. “Oh, can we see it? Please? Even just from the air?”
“Who told you—” Lysander broke off abruptly, turning toward his half brother.
This time, Lyana couldn’t help turning to the man she tried to remember was Rafe, and not Lysander. Rafe. Rafe.
What kind of name is that? she spat silently, clinging to every ounce of wrath she could muster, because anger was so much easier to deal with than all the other emotions swirling like a storm in her chest. Rafe? More like rude, repugnant, repulsive, re-, re-, re-
Real.
Rare.
Lyana shook her head to clear it, but her eyes remained glued to him. He’d turned away, presenting them with his profile as he stared into the woods. Lyana had a sneaking suspicion that if he’d dared to meet her gaze, she would have seen the same memory reflected in his eyes as was playing in hers. The two of them in their own world, a halo of light in a cave of darkness, something that now seemed little more than a dream—one that lingered in her waking hours, rather than fading blissfully into the realm of the forgotten.
Don’t think about it.
Don’t think about him.
Much as she’d loathed his delivery of sharp words the night before, Lyana couldn’t deny they were true. He wasn’t her friend, or her confidante, or her anything. A fact that had never been more evident than in this moment, standing in this clearing with the far-to-curious interest of the flock shifting between them. For the sake of her happiness, Rafe had to be nothing. For the sake of her mate, she had to bury him away.
The prince cleared his throat as the uncomfortable silence lengthened.
Lyana pulled her gaze from one raven and switched it to the other, remembering what Rafe had called the prince the night before. Xander. She liked it better than Lysander, because it was new and light, not full of foolish wishes that would never come true.
He was her future.
He was her mate.
She was determined to give their life a chance.
“Xander,” she said, testing the name, enjoying how it rolled from her lips, a little hesitant and unsure, just like they were about each other. His eyes softened, losing their edge. “Will you show me?”