Page 31 of Kingdom of the Two Moons

Riven

“What happened?” Riven asks as soon as he trusts his own voice enough to speak. His tone is husky from the violence he just witnessed, from his own anger simmering under his skin, the cataclysmic magic in his veins still ready to surge. Abyss, he’s never seen Caryan lose control that much. But then, he’s never seen someone talk to Caryan like that and live long enough to see sunrise either. At least not after Gatilla, whose magical shackles had prevented him from killing without her explicit wish.

And yet, to see Caryan biting Melody like that—it flipped something in him.

It was pure dominance. Pure ownership. Pure… Caryan might as well have claimed her right before Riven.

The rational part in Riven knows Melody is his slave and that Caryan has every right to do with her whatever he desires, just as he told her. He knows Caryan bit her before.

Yet every fiber in his body screams at him to go for Caryan’s throat.

He smothers those unfamiliar impulses and takes a deep breath, reminding himself that things could have turned out much worse.

Yet—if he’d come a minute earlier, this wouldn’t have happened. He’d been at the border when Caryan had called him over their bond. He’d come as fast as he could, but—that one minute …

He should have been here. Should have intervened. He promised to protect her, always, yet he hadn’t been there in time.

Nefarians infiltrated my kingdom. My court, Caryan says coolly, his voice sounding only in Riven’s mind.

Riven can’t help but notice the flicker in Caryan’s eyes as he feels Riven’s emotions. He doesn’t know how Caryan interprets them. All Riven can do is choke those feelings further and let them fade slowly, the way he’s trained for two centuries. Only because of that training, it works.

Another deep breath and Riven is calm again. Caryan shifts too. Gone is the half-feral angel from moments ago, replaced by the ice-cold king Riven knows so well. The king the world has learned to fear. The king who, even when he looks civilized on the outside, is much more dangerous than the creature of pure instinct he was just moments before.

We have a traitor in our rows , Caryan says, again silently over the bond so Melody won’t hear. I’m going to seal the Fortress. I’m going to find him. Meanwhile, I need you to stay with her and protect her. With your life.

“I will,” Riven says out loud because the mind-speaking works only one way.

Caryan’s eyes rest on him a second longer, as if he, too, wonders about how easily that vow passed Riven’s lips.

Then darkness ripples and he is gone.

Riven’s eyes finally drift to Melody, who’s been watching them vigilantly. His inner turmoil soars anew as he takes her in. She looks more vulnerable than ever. Her brown eyes are still wide with shock, her throat healed but smeared with blood. Her heartbeat is feverish, the air filled with fear and fury.

Those haunted eyes glide to him, then she runs into his arms and starts to cry.

Riven lifts her and carries her over to the bed, holding her until her tears subside and her body finally stops shaking. Eventually, she sits up. He gently brushes a strand of blood-crusted hair out of her face. She’s still paler than he remembers her and dark rings rim her beautiful eyes.

“What happened?” he asks, more gently than he’s ever been with anyone.

“There were two men in the room. They had wings and claws. I don’t know… I fought them and, suddenly, Caryan was here, but—they crumbled to dust before he could kill them.” Her voice breaks off and she frowns. “Caryan, he…” She shakes her head. “Nefarians… is that was those men were?”

“Yes.”

“They were… frightening,” she whispers.

Riven makes himself say, “They are.”

Melody slides off his lap and stands. Her eyes, still restless, probe the room as if she expects them to return any moment.

Then she states quietly, “I’d like to take a shower,” before she slips into the bathroom and closes the door behind her.

***

Riven lies sprawled on her bed, the sketch of him with purple eyes in his hands, when she returns. She’s shockingly talented, the way she caught his and Caryan’s faces. He already glimpsed her talent in the paintings in her room at Lyrian’s house and was fascinated then. He’d seen a lot of the most talented artists at the court in Palisandre. But these are more . As if these sketches are alive, his own, violet eyes terrifyingly real, looking back at him like a mirror.

“You’re very talented,” he says, lowering the sketch to look at her fully.

Melody just stares at him, wrapping her towel tighter around herself, her eyes still glistening with vigilance. And shame, as she realizes what he’s holding in his hand.

“I didn’t plan for you to ever see that,” she snaps.

“But I did. And I fascinated you enough that you drew me,” he adds with an aloof smile that sends her glowering at him. Good. Anger is better than fear .

But then she turns her head, biting down on her full lip. To his surprise, she says, “It’s just—I’d love to paint you, not just draw you.”

“Oh, yes, your colors dried out, I saw. We can take care of that. One word to Caryan and—”

“No. No word to Caryan,” she says, swiveling to him, then she walks over and tries to snatch the sketches from his hand.

He pulls them away too quickly and chuckles quietly when she almost stumbles over him onto the bed.

She pulls herself up onto her elbows before slumping down again and propping her head on her hands. But her face stays stern and her voice is almost a plea when she repeats, “Please, not Caryan.”

“You don’t want him to know that you drew him too,” Riven muses. She’d drawn Caryan, several times actually. Riven wonders why.

He’s still trying to figure her out. She and her relationship with Caryan, if he can call it such. But the way she drew Caryan, it touched Riven. Some of the sketches are of his profile, or just studies of his lips, or ears, how his hair curls around them. Others, though, they show him in private moments, when he wasn’t aware anyone was watching, with his eyes closed, his throat exposed. They’re almost… intimate.

And Caryan, on the other hand—

The gold in his eyes. The way he just lost control with her. There’s more to it. More between them. It still doesn’t make sense to Riven though.

And how had Caryan known she was in danger? A traitor among them—someone selling them out to the Nefarians, telling them which room was Melody’s. How could this happen?

Riven runs his hand over his face, trying to ease some of the tension in his temples.

Caryan would call Kyrith and Ronin now, and they would start to take the whole Fortress apart. Thoroughly. Caryan would have everyone interrogated by Kyrith and Ronin and look into the blood of each resulting suspect. Riven would like to help .

He also knows he’s the only one Caryan trusts enough to look after Melody.

“Why did they want to kill me?” Melody asks, startling him out of his thoughts.

“I can’t—”

Before he can finish his sentence, she’s jumped up from the bed and stands, glaring at him. “Oh no, don’t give me this bullshit that you can’t tell me, after all that happened. They almost fucking killed me, Riven.”

“Melody—”

“No! I’m brought here to work as a fucking slave, and now someone breaks into my room—someone with wings and claws, damn it—and tries to slit my throat, and all I get is I can’t tell you .’”

He gets up and stretches out a hand, but she retreats, baring her teeth at him. Briefly, he’s startled by this—by her fearlessness. It wasn’t every day that someone dared to outright challenge him like that. Not many people have the courage, and he admires that. More than he should. Much more.

“They called me a silver elf. Is it because of that? Or because of the prophecy?”she probes on, her cheeks flushed, her eyes damning.

Riven stills, running a hand over his face. Hells, how much she’s picked up. Of course she has.

He sighs, then slumps back down on her bed, bracing his elbows on his legs.

“Caryan said that I’m unique to this world,” she pushes, pausing right in front of him.

“Because you are,” he says finally.

“Why?”

“Because you are a silver elf.”

She just crosses her arms in front of her chest, her eyes still livid. “And? What does that mean? Why are they special?”

He says, “Silver elves were unique in their gift to read and speak old, long-forgotten languages.”

“ Were? ”

Riven grits his teeth. Abyss, Caryan would be furious that he told her. He says, “They were hunted to extinction. By those who wanted ancient knowledge banned and destroyed.”

Melody takes a moment to let this settle. Her breathing still comes fast, her heartbeat elevated, though some of the fury seems to have ebbed out of her when she says, “That means I’m the last one? Like really the last one?”

“Indeed.”

She briefly glances away to the window before her wood-eyes focus back on him with new intensity. “And what has all of this to do with Kalleandara’s prophecy?”

Riven swallows hard. “I really cannot tell you, Melody.”

“That’s a fucking lie.”

“It is not a lie.”

“Right, or you couldn’t have said it, I know. But it only has to be true enough , right?” she snaps. Her eyes shine with hurt that touches something deep inside him.

“I can’t because it would mean a betrayal to Caryan. I’m his right hand. It would make me disloyal,” he says, hoping she can understand. “I’m his friend too,” he adds very quietly.

She looks down to her feet. After a while she asks, “What does he want with me? Why am I here?”

Riven draws in another long breath. “That you also have to ask him yourself.”

Her head flies up. “He tells me nothing. And you… you said… you would protect me. That you don’t know about his motivations. Was that also some nicely served semi-lie?”

Again, he lifts his hand to touch her, but she retreats another step, hissing, her eyes burning with betrayal. It slices like a knife to his side.

“It wasn’t. He…”Riven starts but catches himself. Hells, this shouldn’t be as hard as it feels. He shouldn’t have so much trouble choosing between her and Caryan. But for some dark reason, it is almost painful. Not telling her the truth, to see her hurt like that…

“Is this why he traded me?” Her voice breaks, and he sees her eyes glittering like water. Tears. Such a mortal trait. Such a startlingly beautiful one, too. It briefly robs his breath.

“Caryan brought you here because of your heritage, yes,” Riven admits after a moment. Abyss, how much more should he tell her.

“But why make me scrub the floors?”she spits, her jaw a hard line.

“Someone broke through his wards.”

“Wards?” Her eyes are wide.

“Magical walls that surround his kingdom,” Riven explains with a wave of his hand.

“And why can someone break through them?”

“Every wall has holes, no matter how strong the magic is woven, how immaculate. Although it takes years to find one.”

“Years?” Melody asks, her incredulous tone matching Riven’s dark thoughts. “So those… Nefarians have been—”

“Studying Caryan’s wall for years and probing for a weakness, a way in, yes. Caryan felt it, that someone was prying but every time we went and searched we found nothing.”

“Because they have wings,” Melody says. “And you didn’t expect someone with wings who’d just fly off.”

Riven slowly shakes his head. “No. We didn’t. I didn’t,” he adds bitterly, licking his teeth. He should have known. Should have at least suspected it, but he thought them loyal to Caryan, and if not to him, then at least to their leader. When he glances up, he finds her studying him closely. He looks away, out of the window as his throat works. He’s glad he’s kept the veil around his aura dense, pulled it up as soon as he set foot in the room, or she would read him like an open book. He’s not sure he could stand it—being confronted with his past. A past he keeps locked away from even himself.

Not now.

Maybe never.

He runs a hand through his hair and finally meets her eyes again. “Caryan’s waiting. He knows that someone invaded his kingdom. And has now infiltrated his court. He first wants to find out who and eliminate the threat. ”

“And all those household chores are to keep me busy?”

“It seems so,” Riven offers.

Now Melody is the one to look away, swallowing hard. “And then?”

Her head snaps back to him when he doesn’t answer immediately. Oh, he was wrong—her fury hasn’t seized a bit. “Ah, right. You can’t,” she seethes.

“Melody,—” He gets up.

“Don’t you dare touch me! Stay the fuck where you are!” She withdraws further as he approaches nonetheless, bumping against the skeletal remains of what used to be a desk. She glances over her shoulder. With a snip of Riven’s fingers, it’s as immaculate as ever. Even the glass of water that stood there is back, refilled.

“It was a long night, for all of us. Let’s just—”Melody stares a moment at the restored desk before her head flies back to him, her whole body is trembling with rage.

“Let’s just what? Put me back together like a piece of furniture? Tuck me back into bed and forget about it? Pretend nothing happened? Are you going to read me a good-night story as well?”

“Melody, be reasonable, please. You’re tired and exhausted. You—”

“Reasonable? Don’t be so fucking slick for once! So untouchable! You have no idea what it was like with Lyrian! You have no idea what it’s like to be owned like a fucking thing!” With that, she lunges out and sweeps the water glass to the ground.

“Here. If you’re so keen of fixing things, fix this.” Her brown eyes glitter with a challenge. It snaps something in him that shouldn’t snap.

“I have no idea? Do you really believe this?”His voice has fallen to a growl; he’s stolen a step closer.

“Sure. Must have been nice to grow up like a prince,” she throws right back, holding his gaze, unafraid. “Pampered and loved and adored.”

He takes another step, baring his teeth. “Do not believe this, Melody. Do not believe that the few things I allow the outside world to see are the whole truth. That it’s not hard for me to watch you suffer, day in, day out.”

“Oh, must be pretty hard—watching me from your silken cushion, sipping your golden wine.”

Gods damn him, that mouth.

His snarl tears the air like a knife slashing through a curtain. “I’ve been a slave for the better part of my life.” His hands come to rest left and right of her head on the wall, his body pinning hers against that desk. She looks surprised but doesn’t balk, doesn’t break his stare either. He leans into her scent, her heat, ignoring both, his voice low, vicious. “First, I was forced to serve the king of Palisandre, then I was enslaved by Gatilla. I served in more ways than you might want to envision. I was forced to kill and maim, forced to serve her in her bedroom too.”The words escape. Words he’s never voiced before, but suddenly they tumble out, all on their own.

For a few moments, there is silence; and then Melody’s face falls. All her rage is gone in an instant as she spots his aura that must have torn. And for a reason he can’t fully comprehend, he lets her see it. Lets the veil around it rip and glide down further.

She just stares, and then her eyes widen. Compassion lies in them. Warmth and compassion he’s never seen on a fae before.

“I’m sorry… I…”

He pulls back and straightens before he can do something he might regret, but his voice is still raw when he says, “You don’t need to be sorry. You didn’t know. And you were still a child with Lyrian. I was a young man. But do not believe it doesn’t hurt me to see you shackled and afraid. That I don’t know how you feel. But Caryan was the one who freed me. I owe him, Melody. I’m eternally grateful.”

To his surprise, she leans in and hugs him. He’s so stunned he just stands there as her arms wrap around him, her head at his neck, her scent everywhere in the air, even stronger than moments ago.

It takes a lot not to reach out and bury his hands in her hair. Not to run his hands down her soft skin, over her body, her shy curves. Not to treat her like she’s his and trail his lips down the curve of her neck, lick the spot where it meets her collarbone .

Gods, he’s never wanted a woman the way he wants her. It almost has him tripping.

He steps back and involuntarily, she lets go of him, dropping her arms, retreating herself. He hates the shame flushing her cheeks, the way she bites down her lower lip, looking everywhere but at him. He knows she believes that she’d made a mistake in touching him like that. And he hates that he lets her believe it, but it’s the better way. The only way, he reminds himself. Anything else would be inacceptable.

He turns away from her and walks over to her bed, slumping down on it as relaxed as he can, letting none of his inner turmoil show on his face. All the thoughts that ravage his mind. That it’s her bed he’s lying in, Abyss doom him. That he has never spoken so openly about anything before, not even with Caryan. That he knows she’s watching him because her eyes feel like a burn on his skin every time she does.

After a while she follows him and slowly curls up on the sheets, a healthy distance away from him, and it takes even more of his willpower to close his eyes, not to look at her but pretend he is tired. To make his voice sound disinterested and cold when she asks, “Who was Gatilla?” and he says, “One of the darkest figures the fae world has seen in a long time.”

Only when he’s sure she’s fallen asleep does he allow himself to finally open his eyes again and watch her sleeping in the moonlight.