Page 38 of Kingdom of the Two Moons

Riven

“Cut off their hands and throw them back to the border where you found them,” Caryan says, with one look at the elven warriors chained to the wall. None but one dares to meet his eye. Dares so much as flinch.

A statement. That’s what the former king of Palisandre used to do to the witches. Sawed off their clawed hands before he threw them into the wind. That’s what the new king, Lorvil, does to his prisoners before he throws them into the wild.

A game—whether their hands regrow quick enough for them to survive before an enemy or scavenger sniffs them out.

Usually, death finds them first.

Ronin steps away as Kyrith approaches, sword already in hand. None of the men lets out a sound while Kyrith severs their hands, one by one. Riven takes in the cruel sight. Well-trained warriors indeed. And strong ones. He can taste their blood in the air, their magic humming on his tongue when he licks his lips. Potent magic. High elves, probably from Western Palisandre. Riven knows none of them and neither does Kyrith.

“Send your king my regards if you make it,” Caryan drawls, turning away.

“Wait, my lord. Please.” A man with whiskey-colored eyes and long, dark-brown hair that falls over his back looks up .

Caryan pauses, then turns.

“We would like to pledge ourselves to you. We had enough time to think about it. I’m speaking in the name of my whole unit. We know you offered the curse to our kind before.”

Riven’s brows raise. That is definitely new. If Caryan is surprised, his face doesn’t show. His eyes, just a touch lighter than his ebony wings. Kyrith glowers at them, Ronin’s wearing his usual mask of contempt. But the witcher’s eyes flash to Riven’s briefly, equally surprised.

“We volunteered to come here. We wanted to offer ourselves to you, Dark Lord, our king.”

Caryan frowns. “Why accept my punishment before you propose such a thing?”

The man lowers his head again in deference. “See it as a proof of our loyalty, my lord. A sacrifice. A testament of what we’re capable of and glad to shoulder. Send us back once we’re healed. We will be your spies, your eyes and ears. Or keep us here and let us serve under your command.”

Caryan crouches down so he’s at eye level with the man. “Why?”

“We believe in a future and this future lies not in the hands of the king of Palisandre, my lord. Besides, word has spread that you, your kingdom—they call it the kingdom where nobody dies. You have more adherers than you might know, my king. They operate in the dark, but they are there.”

Caryan stands. “You will have to accept the curse. Swear a blood oath. It will force you to obey to my word.”

“We will, my lord, if you regard us as worthy.”

“I will decide on your fate when I deem fit,” Caryan answers, then turns on his heel and walks out.

Riven follows him, leaving Ronin and Kyrith with the warriors.

As soon as they are alone and the soundproof doors shut behind them Riven asks, “Where the hells have you been? I’ve been worried.”

He has been. When they returned, Caryan vanished, saying he needed to see to something, leaving Riven and the others with the spies. A little longer and Riven would have left with Kyrith and Ronin to comb the area looking for him.

Then Caryan returned… with Melody’s scent clinging to him. The scent of her blood and fear.

Caryan lets Riven’s tone pass and says, “She ran off. I barely saved her from a sand worm.”

Riven doesn’t know what to say. What’s worse—that she tried to run off again and nearly got killed, or the fact that a sand worm has shown up here? A monster that could easily kill elves. In fact, Caryan is one of the few creatures who could walk away from such an encounter alive, which was another reason Gatilla kept him—to fight against those dark scavengers that had started to impregnate their world and thrive in it due to the imbalance she caused.

“But how did she get out?”

“She broke through my wards.”

Riven’s eyes widen. Caryan’s wards are some of the most ancient and complicated he’s ever encountered. It would have taken a master of crafting magic a week or more to break through some of them. For her to just undo the magic…

Impossible. Or another of her talents . Not that Riven’s ever heard of a talent like this before. It’s a frightening idea to entertain, what she might be able to do with it.

She is so young though. Elves normally take half a century to even unlock the basic potential of their magic. To wield it is another thing entirely.

When Caryan turns and Riven sees his face, he knows his brother is thinking the same.

“A sand worm?” he says instead.

“There will be more.” Caryan just looks tired when he states that fact.

The sight touches Riven, once again evokes those dark thoughts he fights so hard to push back—that maybe Caryan has slain too many such monsters in his long life. That he indeed is tired.

“And the blood?” Riven asks when Caryan doesn’t offer anything more. Melody’s blood . He needs to ask. Needs to know whether she is alright.

“She had some cuts.”

Riven watches him closely, but Caryan’s eyes reveal nothing.

“Those Palisandrean soldiers—do they know who slipped through your ward wall? Do they know about the Nefarians? Are there more?” Caryan would know because he drank their blood. And even if Palisandre hates the Nefarians, it wasn’t unheard of that Lorvil, high king of Palisandre, might bond with his enemies to pursue a greater objective.

But Caryan shakes his head. “No. Whoever slipped through wasn’t from Palisandre. They know nothing about the Nefarians breaching my ward wall and invading my kingdom.”

“They came for her then,” Riven gathers. For Melody.

“Palisandre suspects that she’s here. They haven’t confirmed it though,” Caryan says.

“But how do they know?”

“One of the oracles told them.”

“I would have never expected them to change sides,” Riven voices his thoughts. The Palisandrean soldiers. They even mentioned a sort of cult, right under the Palisandrean king’s nose. If this is as large as they said it is…

Caryan turns his head to him. “Desperate times lead to desperate decisions. They’re tired of death.”

“I don’t like them,” Riven counters, his tone serious. “I don’t trust them. Men who change sides so quickly tend to do it again.”

“It won’t matter as soon as they pledge themselves to me.”

“It will. They can still go behind your back, still find a way to bend your commands in an unwatched moment.”

“Then the leash must be kept shorter,” Caryan counters casually.

“You can’t control them all, Caryan. It’s safer to kill them.” Riven hates the words, hates their truth. But he loves Caryan more.

“They are powerful. We need their magic.”

“This is madness, Caryan. ”

“It’s power. Power I wield,” Caryan snaps back at him.

“Someone from our own rows betrayed you, and you still haven’t found out who,” Riven says back, voicing the truth, knowing the danger.

Caryan turns on him, his snarl sending the lights guttering. “Do not lecture me on things I already know. Tell me rather whether Khalix has suddenly decided to turn against me? Whether the Nefarians there finally lost their minds to challenge me.”

Riven shakes his head. “No. They haven’t, or I would know about it. I have plenty of spies there. This attack had nothing to do with them. Those Nefarians that broke into the Fortress must have been renegades, who long broke bonds with Khalix.”Riven lets a moment pass before he adds, “It might be the rebellion-group Shiera led. If that’s the case, more will be coming.”

“There are more coming, I can feel them. But where did they hide all those years?” Caryan’s eyes flicker with coldness, but beneath it he looks drained. Riven can see it on him, the way he’s paled even further, the way dark shadows rim his eyes—clear signs of the toll it takes on him to drink the blood of so many individuals and look into their memories. Even Caryan could only drink from so many a day without overusing his abilities. Without burning out.

“We never found any at the border, nor around the Emerald Forest. Avandal would never allow them in. So my only guess would be the Black Forest. That they searched for holes and flew back over the sea before we could sense them. I should have seen it coming,” Riven adds quietly.

“Even you couldn’t have known,” Caryan says, turning away.

“I should. That’s what I’m here for.”

“No one could have guessed that they’d survive the Black Forest for years,” Caryan retorts. “But it doesn’t matter. I’m going to find the traitor and make him pay. Make an example to everyone. Make everyone else see what exactly happens if anyone deems it wise to go against my command. And then I’m going to find those Nefarians and scatter their ashes on the wind. I should have tracked them down and extinguished them from the very beginning.”

“And… what if you don’t find them in time? They’re going to try again,” Riven states gravely.

Caryan’s eyes slide back to him, cold as death. “Let them. This is why I need you to watch her tonight. And the days and nights after. Watch her every step until I found out who wants her and how many they are.”

“I will.”

Caryan fully turns away from him. Riven, dismissed, strides back toward the door when a mumble makes him pause with his hand on the door handle.

“She said that I’m like Lyrian.”

Riven swivels on his heel to find Caryan still with his back turned, seemingly lost in thought. Only after a while does his king turn his head, realizing Riven is still here.

They look at each other over the silence, a strange echo of emotion flickering over Caryan’s face. Riven reins in his surprise before it can show on his own. He’s never known Caryan to question himself, not his decisions, nor his cruelty. Riven knows it is not some sort of mercy for Melody’s young age, nor for her humanity, because that has never stopped the angel before. Caryan is ruthless when it comes to the pursuit of his objectives.

Merciless.

This is new.

Until now, Riven believed that Caryan didn’t care how she felt. That all that mattered to him was to keep her here, locked up, serving him if need be.

He says quietly, carefully, “I can understand why it must feel that way to her.”

Caryan says nothing. He just stands there and watches Riven, his eyes gleaming in the dark like gems at the bottom of a very deep lake. Just as untouchable, as unreachable as the stars above. Farther away than ever. But still, he seems to wait for Riven to say more.

So Riven does. “It might help to give her a little more freedom, despite everything. ”

“Freedom? She already broke through my wards and tried to run away.”

“She’s young,” Riven amends.

“She is reckless. She almost got killed.” Caryan spits the words out as if they are something unpalatable.

“Fate wouldn’t have allowed that.”

“Do not hold fate against me. Do not be so na?ve, Riven, not you, of all people. Fate is a vicious thing, but it too can be bent, shaped, twisted, and broken. It’s no different from a living creature. I know that better than most.”

Riven goes very still at the words, at their cryptic meaning. And at Caryan’s tone. If he didn’t know any better, he would say it affects Caryan—that she ran away.

“She’s angry, Caryan. She is also afraid. She’s been a prisoner all her life. Give her a little more rope and see what happens.”

“She’ll only run away again,” Caryan growls, not meeting Riven’s eyes.

“I don’t believe that. Let me try. Let me protect her, watch her, as you ordered.”

Riven forces himself to breathe while Caryan seems to debate his words. Too long, it takes too long. Every second, Riven can feel Caryan become more inclined to lock her up for good, cage her like an animal. It would break her. She would start to hate them in time.

But he suspects Caryan knows this. That a part of him, a part Riven hasn’t yet managed to figure out, even toys with the idea for that reason. Be it the lure of Kalleandara’s prophecy or something beyond Riven’s grasp.

When he can’t stand the silence any longer, he adds, his voice bereft of emotion, “Besides, as we agreed, whoever is after her is going to come for her again. They will be more inclined to make another move if she moves about, allegedly unwatched.”

Caryan raises his chin, watching Riven’s every breath. Riven endures it, silently praying to the ancient gods that Caryan will see reason. He hates how his hands are tied, how he can only watch the storm unfold .

Caryan turns away from him again eventually. But he gives a brusque wave with his hand. “Then by all means, Riven, we shall try it your way.”