The desert stretched before Xander in rolling hills of endless orange. Sweat dripped from his brow, the sun blazing against his black wings. A lone river cut through the monotony, flanked by vibrant patches of green. Far in the distance, along its bank, a bustling metropolis bloomed, bursting with color and buzzing with movement. It was no mirage. Though the heat and the sand had played tricks on him earlier, there was no mistaking Abaelon, the City of Life, the capital of the House of Flight.
Xander swallowed, his pulse hitching with the awareness of how exposed he’d soon be. The plan he and Helen had devised was risky, but he didn’t see another way. Lyana had never sent Cassi to his dreams, so he’d never been able to inform her of the earthquakes on the hummingbird isle. Helen was the only person he trusted to carry the message, so he’d sent her to the House of Peace and traveled to the House of Flight alone. Sure, he could have brought guards or advisors or any other sort of entourage, and now, as the city loomed, he was starting to question his sanity, but the truth was he needed to prove himself—to the hummingbirds, to the other houses, and even to himself.
This is going to work. He silently tried to convince himself. You have no choice but to make it work.
The bad blood between the House of Whispers and the House of Flight was undeniable. Prince Damien had been Lyana’s intended mate before she pulled her stunt at the matching ceremony. He’d been snubbed, forced to pair with the owl princess instead. Even before that, the prince and Rafe had butted heads. And the poor relationship continued. The royal family hadn’t sent for Xander when the earthquakes began. In fact, they seemed to go above and beyond to ensure he wouldn’t find out. If not for a letter from Queen Zara informing him of the news, he might never have known. They clearly didn’t wish for his or Lyana’s help, despite how obviously they needed it. Yet hummingbirds were notoriously loud and boastful, quick to anger but also quick to defuse, given the right circumstances. They were a house more ready for a celebration than a confrontation, so if he played his cards right, he could convince them.
At least, that was what he told himself as he soared into Abaelon.
Gardens covered towering sandstone buildings, green foliage brilliant against the honey backdrop. Flowers of every color spilled over the edges of the tiered levels, while rows upon rows of columns stood wrapped in various vines. An endless supply of water trickled like music in the background, flowing through the intricate network of aqueducts spread across the vast city. Fountains and layered streams twinkled in the sun. The winds from the desert howled, making the palm trees sway. Against that movement, darting faster than the eye could follow, hummingbirds zipped through the sky, their wings little more than blurred swathes of color at their backs as they raced from terrace to terrace, cultivating their crops, delivering messages, and just living life at a speed ten times faster than everybody else.
In comparison, Xander clambered slowly through the air, his black wings standing out not just for their color, but for their seemingly lazy flight. If not for the crown of onyx feathers nestled on his brow, he was sure someone would have stopped him. Instead, they waited and watched as he made his way to the palace looming in the center of the city.
The building was at least twenty stories high, shaped like a pyramid, the tiers growing smaller and smaller as they stretched into the sky. Unlike the rest of the city, it shone brilliantly white against the cloudless blue sky, the sandstone covered in marble quarried from the mountains. The effect would have been blinding if not for the hanging plants and foliage draped over every inch of the exterior, as though the palace were alive. Two enormous waterfalls framed the front entrance, the central lifeline of the irrigation system, pumped directly from the river itself. Xander had read all about the engineering, but the drawings in his books hadn’t done the system justice. He adored his home, even if it was now buried beneath the sea, yet the more he came to learn about the rest of his floating world, the more he understood how relatively quaint his isle had been, just another reason the ravens had been easy to overlook.
Today, the hummingbirds would learn the true strength of his people.
They would discover exactly how memorable a raven could be.
Embracing his fear and wearing it like a shield, Xander swept into the courtyard before the palace. He landed at a stride on the marble tiles, his boots loud as he stomped toward the door. Before he made it halfway across, a hum filled the air. Shadows flickered beneath the sun, whizzing overhead as bodies flooded in from the terraces. By the time he blinked, he was surrounded. Guards hovered in formation above the courtyard, each with an arrow trained precisely on him.
Don’t act afraid, he silently determined.
Don’t give them the satisfaction.
Be brave. Be bold.
Be yourself.
It was a point of pride that his steps didn’t falter. Paying the display no mind, he continued on his path until he stood at the base of the short stack of stairs leading up to the wide veranda of columns and trees. Through it, the doors to the palace were just barely visible. The waterfalls sprayed water thunderously into the air. Xander cupped his hands around his lips and prayed someone would hear him over the noise.
“I am King Lysander Taetanus of the House of Whispers, and I’ve come for an audience with King Axos and Queen Odehlia of the House of Flight.”
Then he waited.
The air thrummed with the movement of wings, but the hummingbirds remained in place, hovering menacingly above him. No doors opened. No emissaries appeared. Xander stood with his feet braced and his spine straight, prepared to stay there all day until he was acknowledged. In the end, it didn’t take nearly so long.
A shout rang from an upper terrace.
A blurred figure hurtled through the foliage.
A gleam of silver brightened the sky.
Don’t move, Xander thought. Don’t move.
The unnamed hummingbird barreled toward him, the deadly intent in the attack obvious. But Xander was king of a foreign house. They might not welcome him, and they might not agree with him, but they wouldn’t murder him. At least, he hoped not. Still, as his heart hammered in his chest, he couldn’t deny that just this once it would have been nice to have a little of Lyana’s impossible power, no matter how many times he’d preached for her to show restraint.
Don’t move.
The hum of air through feathers and the ring of steel filled his ears, then silence. Xander didn’t flinch. He simply swallowed, the skin of his throat grazing the edge of a blade as he stared into a furious face he recognized from the trials.
“Good morning, Prince Damien,” he said, as nonchalantly as possible.
The prince sneered, his olive skin wrinkling as his iridescent violet wings ruffled. “What? No raven cry this time?”
Unfortunately not, Xander thought, fighting to keep his face blank as he struggled to recall everything Rafe had once told him of the prince. They’d fought during the trials, as all the heirs had. There had been some altercation during hand-to-hand combat, and he’d been dishonored during the welcome ball when Rafe interrupted his dance with Lyana. They’d never liked each other. All Xander remembered thinking at the time was that they sounded too similar for their own good. How would he play this if it were Rafe on the other side, throwing a tantrum?
He’d disengage.
Nothing would have infuriated his brother more.
“I didn’t come to fight,” Xander offered, keeping his tone even. “I came to speak to you and your family about the devastation about to befall your house. I came to help.”
“We don’t need help from a mage-lover like you,” Prince Damien spat.
Before Xander could respond, the prince kicked him in the chest. He stumbled back but managed to keep to his feet. The hummingbird disappeared in a flash, moving too fast for normal eyes, and then hands shoved him from behind. Xander fell forward, dropping to his knees.
“Not so tough without your queen around to fight your battles,” the prince accused, loud enough for all those gathered to hear.
“I believe a battle requires an opponent,” Xander said as he returned to his feet, brushing off his clothes. “And as I said before, I have no intention of fighting with you today.”
The prince punched him in the stomach, and he doubled over with a groan. A fist slammed into his chest, and he flew back up. The swiping of legs left him on his ass.
“When I heard you lost your hand, I didn’t think you’d also lost your spirit,” the prince mocked, a low blow Xander should have expected. Even after a lifetime of similar jabs, it still stung. “What happened to the great warrior prince of the House of Whispers?”
“I grew up,” Xander answered, unable to keep the simmering anger wholly from his tone. “Perhaps you should try it.”
With a low growl, the prince grabbed Xander by the wrist and spun him so his wings slammed into the hummingbird’s chest while his good hand twisted painfully behind his back. Prince Damien held a dagger to his throat, the point pinching his skin. “You cavort with mages, which is still punishable by death in the House of Flight. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t cut you right now.”
“I’ll give you three,” Xander answered, his voice deathly calm. “One, your isle is going to fall whether you wish it or not, and I have the experience to ensure as many lives are saved as possible. Two, the gods are on my side, and if you murder me, I have no doubt retribution against your house will be swift. And three…” He paused to pointedly eye the guard around his right forearm, which he’d raised to his chest. As Cassi had so aptly predicted all those weeks ago, the prince hadn’t bothered securing the limb he naively believed posed no risk. Now, he tensed upon noticing the sharp point hidden in the shadows of the metal. “The moment I turn my wrist, a blade will spring free, striking you in the throat. So if you want to kill me, kill me, but my blood won’t be the only blood spilled today. The choice is yours. As I said before, I didn’t come to fight.”
Palm trees swayed on the palace verandas. Wings speedily beat. The waterfalls crashed. But the prince didn’t move. The moment stretched, becoming two, then three. Bowstrings whined, pulled taut. Not a single arrow was loosed.
Xander had him.
They all knew it.
Still, they might have waited like that all day, the prince’s pride too great to suffer such a wound, if two more figures hadn’t shot from the palace terraces, descending in a whoosh of feathers and fine silks. The king landed first, his turquoise hummingbird wings carrying him faster to the fray. The queen, formerly of the House of Paradise, followed gracefully behind.
“King Axos, Queen Odehlia,” Xander murmured cordially, as though their heir didn’t have a blade pressed to his jugular. “So kind of you to join us. The prince and I were just getting reacquainted.”
The king frowned and flicked his wrist. In a flash, the guards lining the courtyard vanished. Then he eyed his son. After a reluctant pause, the prince released Xander. They disentangled, each taking a moment to straighten his jacket.
“Tell me, King Lysander, what brings you to our home?” His voice was wary, the look in his dark eyes unsure. “We didn’t send for you.”
“No, you didn’t, which is why if you ask me to leave right now, I’ll go. But I believe that would be a mistake. I know relations are strained between our two houses, and my actions at the courtship trials are partially to blame for that, but I urge you to put the past behind us. Not for me. Not for you. But for your people. Change is coming. All I want to do is help.”
“And where is Queen Lyana?” The king searched the clouds.
“The queen has been summoned by the gods, and though she wanted to be here, it was a call she couldn’t afford to ignore.”
“That’s rather convenient.”
“If you want proof of her power, write to King Dominic or Queen Zara, and they will tell you what they’ve witnessed. I didn’t come to intimidate or boast. I came simply as I am to humbly offer aid.”
The king and queen started, as though noticing for the first time that no other ravens filled the skies or the courtyard. He’d come alone. The tension in their stances softened.
“Queen Zara speaks highly of you,” the king said, not a question, though it lingered just the same.
“As I always will of her, should anyone ask.”
“You seem changed.”
Gods alive. It took everything within him not to laugh. Rafe had certainly left an impression on people during his short stint at the trials, none of it very good. King Axos was now the second ruler to notice Xander’s newfound composure. “You could say I’m a new man.”
“We shall see.” The king motioned behind him and a servant emerged from the palace carrying a tray full of glasses bubbling with hummingbird nectar. It was a wonder nothing spilled. “In the meantime, my son will show you the hospitality he failed to offer upon your arrival. Eurythes is god of the harvest, and we’d be remiss not to offer nourishment after your long journey. Take the afternoon to recover, then join us for dinner this evening and we’ll listen to what you have to say.”
The king and queen retreated into the palace as Prince Damien grabbed a drink and knocked his head back, downing the contents in one swallow.
“I should think you’d be thanking me,” Xander murmured, drawing the prince’s attention.
“For what?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Xander grinned, silently praying Lyana would forgive him for his next words. As he’d said, hummingbirds were quick to anger and even quicker to forget. Well, they’d done the fury portion. It was time to move on to forgiveness. “Had you matched with Lyana at the trials, you’d be her errant messenger boy instead of me.”
A soft puff of air verging on laughter escaped the prince’s lips. He took two more glasses from the tray and offered one to Xander, eying him as though aware of the aches already beginning to percolate. “It will help numb the pain.”
Xander stifled his grimace. By nightfall, purple blotches would mark his skin, thanks to the prince. It wasn’t an apology for the attack. Still, though, it was something. He took the nectar and brought it to his lips. The liquid burned on its way down, the local version quite a bit stronger than the drink he was familiar with, and he coughed.
“Not what you’re used to?”
“Not exactly,” Xander managed to say, his voice strained.
“Well, then, King Lysander.” Prince Damien clinked his glass, a dimple digging into his cheek as his lips curved in an impish smile. “Welcome to the House of Flight.”