The Raven and the Dove (The Raven and the Dove, #1)

by Kaitlyn Davis

“You’ll be back before noon?” “I promise.” “You won’t let anyone see you?” “I promise.” “You won’t do anything idiotic?” “I promise.” Luka scoffed and turned to Cassi. “You won’t let her do anything idiotic?” “I’ll do my best,”

But if there was one person Lyana knew how to manipulate, it was her father. And she meant that in the most adoring way possible.

“I pray the gods give you a mate with some backbone, daughter. May the skies help him if he doesn’t have the wits to tell you no.”

The books accepted him into their folds, their pages, and he in turn loved them.

Are you serious?” “Why are you always asking me that?”

“We call life a game, because we each have our own wants, our own desires—but he sees everything, he knows everything, and he leads us down our destined path. We fight back sometimes, we make moves, and so does he. On and on it goes until, in the end, he wins, like he always does. But still, we keep playing. What other choice do we have?”

His hands were clasped behind his back, and there was an aura of arrogance about him that reeked of a firstborn.

He’d rather be honestly hated than dishonestly tolerated, especially when it meant he didn’t have to pretend either.

He stumbled back to the mosaic floor and knelt before the offering basket, holding a gilded dagger above his head like a gift to his own executioner.

“I think the poor girl thought you tore your own hand off. What happened to using your words?”

“Silence,” she cut him off, voice as sharp as ever—as though she’d been forged in a smithy, not grown in a womb.

“Leave your worries to your waking hours, Kasiandra. They will always be there, waiting. Dreams, especially your dreams, are made for so much more.”

A challenge glimmered in the depths of her gray eyes, like a storm daring him to dodge its lightning.

“Then why was he teaching you swordplay?” Lyana asked. “You know, the thing you did with Luka when I wasn’t around that eventually transitioned into, well, other kinds of swordplay, if you know what I mean?”

“They’ve never forgiven Rafe for being the son my father loved more than me, the strong son, the warrior. And he’s never forgiven himself either, which is why he never lets anyone get close. He doesn’t think he deserves it.”

Rafe had spent most of his life resenting his magic. It had saved him, but not his parents. It had made him an outcast, something to be feared. It had made him a fugitive, someone filled with fear. It had turned his brother into a liar and his life into a lie. But standing there, watching her, for the first time Rafe understood his magic was a gift.

“Love is when you find a piece of yourself in someone else, a piece you never knew was missing, but without which you'd be broken. You feel whole, and complete, and accepted for exactly who you are. You can be your true self, because around this person, for the first time you have no desire to pretend to be anyone else.”

He laughed, a hearty, throaty sound that traveled up his chest and spewed out into the world dripping with deceit.

I’m sorry, he thought. The words were so insufficient they wouldn’t come, too weak to even speak aloud.