The Dragon and the Queen by Kaitlyn Davis
Xander
Hidden behind the trunk of an old oak tree, Xander pulled the worn leather volume from the folds of his jacket. The binding cracked as he flipped open the pages and a musty smell wafted from the paper making him feel at home. The words scrawled across the pages, however, were anything but familiar. The language was ancient, which begged the question, why had Cassi even wanted it in the first place?
Why do I?
Just holding the book brought him back to their hours together in the libraries of Rynthos and long days filled with endless debates. No one had challenged him the way she had. No one had stimulated him so much either. But it had been a lie. Every moment they'd spent together, she'd only been pretending.
Xander sighed and dropped his head against the bark. Cassi had been born beneath the mist. She'd spied on Lyana for a foreign king. She'd coordinated the attack in the sacred nest. She'd cut off Rafe's wings.
So again he asked, why had he kept it?
He could have let the book drown alongside his homeland. He could have let Cassi drown too. But he hadn't. As the House of Whispers had been swallowed by the sea, he and Lyana had saved her life. Were they fools? Were they idealists? Maybe those were two sides of the same coin. He didn’t know. But if he closed his eyes, he could still see her lifeless body strewn across the damp planks of the ship where they’d left her, and the very thought made him ill.
"I should've known I'd find you with a book."
"Lyana!"
Xander pushed off the tree and spun to face her. His cheeks flushed and a guilty feeling stirred in his chest. If the princess noticed, she didn’t show it. Amusement lit her eyes.
"Were you reading?"
"No…" He sighed and stuffed the book back beneath his jacket. No matter how much he fought the sensation, he couldn't deny that it was a comfort to have that weight against his breastbone. "Just thinking."
"Nothing good, judging by the look on your face."
He tried to refute her but found himself mute. Nothing good, indeed. What did he have to be happy about? His isle had fallen from the sky. His mother had died in the process. His people were homeless. His kingdom was ruined. Xander prided himself on his optimism, but even his well had run dry.
"I'm sorry," Lyana murmured, taking his hand.
Xander’s eyes met warm green ones. "For what?"
"For not being there to help you. For not being strong enough to stop it or quick enough to save her."
His heart lurched. He knew to which her she referred. A scene came to life in the back of his mind, of his mother in her royal rooms as the ceiling caved in, crushing even her stubborn spirit under the rubble. Now she was entombed beneath ocean and fog, out of his reach, but hopefully her soul had found some sort of rest. His patron god, Taetanos, owed him that at least.
"We'll save the rest," he finally said and squeezed her fingers. Now it was Lyana's turn to let doubt cloud her features. Could she be the hope their people needed? Could she convince them to trust in her magic? "Whether they believe us or not, whether they want our help or not, somehow we'll find a way to save them. Not just the ravens, but everyone."
A horn sounded through the forest.
"They're ready for us," Lyana said, pulling away.
He held on to her hand. "Are you?"
"You asked me that yesterday."
"And now I'm asking again." He dropped her fingers but didn't release her gaze. "I know we're to be mates in name only, but even that is a promise you don't need to give. I've heard the prophecy. I know you're meant for more. And sometimes a good sleep can open a person's eyes—"
"Xander," she cut in. "I wouldn't be doing this if I didn’t want to—you, of all people, should know that. Does the world below need me? Yes. But so does our world. So do our people. And I won't abandon them. I refuse to believe I must choose one or the other. I'm going to help them both. And you're going to help me, whether you want to or not."
Well, he couldn't argue with that. The corner of his lip twitched, and he offered her his arm. "Then I guess I have no choice but to escort you to our coronation."
She grinned and hooked her elbow through his. "I guess not."
Together, they made their way through the nameless forest at the northern edge of the House of Song. It was, perhaps, the last place he'd ever envisioned for receiving his crown—not that there would even be a crown. The royal jewels were gone. So was the throne room…and the scepter…and the official robes. But none of it mattered. As they stepped through the trees and into the clearing filled by a sea of lost ravens, such frivolities couldn’t have been further from his mind. He had his people. They had him. And in the end, that was all his kingdom needed to survive.
A path opened as they made their way to the center of the crowd, Lyana in a tattered ivory overcoat and he in a grimy, bloodstained jacket. Their trousers were covered in filth. Her braids were half-undone and his hair was a mop upon his head. Dirt smattered both their cheeks. Not even a day had passed since the House of Whispers had fallen beneath the mist, and it showed. Yet he'd never felt more like a king. His people watched them with respect, hope gleaming in their eyes.
A reverent silence settled as they came to a stop before Helen, who held two crowns made of onyx feathers in her palms. "Prince Lysander Taetanus and Princess Lyana Aethionus, I stand before you as a herald of our gods and ask you to humble yourselves before their might. No king or queen is above their power. And as you pray before them, so shall you pray before your people as you ask for their blessing on your reign."
Xander had spent the better part of the morning coaching Lyana through the ceremony, so she showed no hesitation as he took her hand. They knelt before Helen and bowed their heads. A shadow came over his face as his captain of the guards lifted the crowns. Though his hovered above his head, not touching his brow, a heaviness still settled on his shoulders—the weight of so many eyes, the weight of his heritage, the weight of the gods and the traditions and the home he wanted to honor. Even the absences were a burden, none more acute than the empty space by his side where his brother should have been. The spot Lyana filled somehow felt hollow too. She'd be his queen, but not his mate. She'd be his partner, but not in the way he had once dreamed. Before his people, they'd be a god-chosen king and queen. Behind closed doors, they'd speak of magic and dragons and a war his world would never understand. In many ways, the coronation was a lie. But it was a lie they needed.
Helen's voice drew him back. "Do you promise to honor Taetanos, God of fate and fortune and all that comes in the life that follows, and to do all in your power to shepherd lost spirits to his realm?"
"I so promise," he and Lyana said in unison.
"Do you promise to uphold the laws of our land, to rule justly and fairly, to treat each man as your brother and each woman as your sister, and to do unto them as you would your own family, keeping love, respect, and duty in your heart?"
"I so promise."
"Do you promise to protect them from all foes seen and unseen, to keep them safe from outside forces seeking corruption, and to root out all enemies who seek to burn our world in flames?"
Xander swallowed as Lyana squeezed his fingers. If he truly wanted to honor this vow as intended, he would slide the dagger from his belt and stab her in the heart right now. But magic wasn't his enemy. The dragons were, and it was them he thought of as the words slipped through his lips. "I so promise."
"Do you promise you have spoken truly, with nothing but the purest intentions to serve your people and your gods, removing all thoughts of private aspirations?"
"I so promise."
"And do the people of the House of Whispers, having borne witness to these solemn vows, entrust your lives and hearts and souls to the man and woman kneeling before you?"
The collective shout came strong, without hesitation. "We do."
"If the gods object, let them do so now."
Xander half expected a lightning bolt to flay him where he knelt. Lyana caught his eye and winked as the moment of silence passed. Where their fingers touched, her pulse raced just as quickly as his.
"Lysander Taetanus and Lyana Aethionus," Helen shouted, her voice not wavering as she placed the crowns upon their heads. "In Taetanos's name, I dub you the King and Queen of the House of Whispers. Rise and face your people."
As they stood, a cheer erupted. The sound crashed over him like a wave threatening to pull him under, their hope almost tangible. He wanted to believe. He needed to believe. But as he looked out at the crowd, all he saw were a thousand mouths he needed to feed and a thousand bodies he needed to shelter. They were refugees on foreign soil, at the mercy of a world he knew would soon come crumbling down. The isle beneath his feet would fall, and the next, and the next, on and on, taking their way of life with it. There was nothing he could do to stop it. Nothing he could do to protect them. No answer he could find in the pages of a book. Lyana would heal the rift and save the world, but what could he do against such impossible odds? A simple raven with no magic in his skin?
A deep, gurgling caw caught his ear.
Another sounded, and another, the calls rising and falling in a melodic rhythm that stirred the bird inside his soul. Xander looked at the sky. Between the magenta-tinted clouds, where the setting sun shone bright as gold, a dark spot emerged. Silhouettes moved like rolling shadow, heralding the night. But it wasn't an omen—it was a sign that made his spirit sing.
The ravens had returned.
Even outside the confines of the sacred nest, no bars or caverns or cages to contain them, the flock had come home. As one, they swooped into the clearing, a fluttering wave of darkness carrying Taetanos's blessing on their obsidian wings. Xander lifted his face toward the sight, breathing in their presence. Feathers made the wind swirl, and that rustling song stirred the hearts of his people. Caws and cries mixed as the House of Whispers cheered.
Lyana squeezed his fingers.
Xander found her gaze. Though the wings on her back were the pure white of a dove, the crown upon her head held the onyx feathers of a raven, and she was now their queen. A soft smile spread her lips and joy lit her eyes, matching the swelling hope inside his chest.
Maybe they would find a way to save them.
Through the gods or through magic, by fate or by chance, he didn’t know. But he didn’t care. Even a woman of prophecy needed a friend, and he could be that friend. He could be that support. And together, through forces unseen or by sheer will alone, they would find a way to save their world.