Page 47 of Kingdom of the Two Moons

Melody

Riven waits for me in the corridor to my room. He leans against the wall in the dark, muscled arms crossed, stepping in my way when I appear. I’m still so lost in my conversation with Sarynx that I startle.

“It’s not too late to change your mind about going to Niavara,” he says by way of greeting.

“You know I want to go,” I retort, trying to keep the sharpness from my voice and my face blank. I’m going to run. I’m going to deceive him. My stomach twists into an ugly knot. Then I remind myself that it’s him who keeps things from me . I make myself glower up at him, ignoring the ugly sting of betrayal behind my ribs. He just happened to leave out that part where my very mother ran from Caryan .

“I do, yes,” he admits, as muscle flexing in his strong jaw.

He looks different today and it takes a moment for me to realize what it is. He’s wearing banded armor, not his usual, lush attire. The gems on his body are gone, no rings on his fingers. Instead, he’s got two vicious, double-edged swords strapped to his back.

He looks harder. Like a warrior. Frightening.

“You’re expecting another attack in Niavara,” I gather. I’ve thought about that, too—about the Nefarians wanting my head, preferably detached from my body. But they won’t find me if I just disappear. I’d have to wear a hat to hide my round ears, sure, but then—I would just be a girl with a horse, somewhere out there in this world.

Boring. Unremarkable.

Absurdly enough, I’d probably be safer this way than anywhere else, even if I stayed locked away behind man-thick walls.

“It is very likely. But in Niavara, you never know anyways. Be on your guard,” Riven answers evasively. He holds out something for me then. A bundle of clothes made of the same, strange material as his. Black, almost like leather. “I had this made for you. Wear it. We’re going to ride,” he declares.

I breathe a “Thank you,” and take it.

He follows me to my chamber and enters with me. I look at the room. My room. It’s been cleaned since the Nefarians attack two nights ago. Magic has restored every bit of damage. And yet, standing here again brings it all back in a rush.

I’m not sure what I’d have done after the attack if Riven had not stayed here with me. I’d probably have cowered somewhere, waiting for them to return and finish what they started. Again, that twist in my gut, in my heart at what I’m about to do.

And that silent question burning in the back of my mind, whether I’m ready for this world? Or would be ever, for that matter.

I know the answer to that, but ignore it. Because if I thought about it too long, I might as well put myself right into the cage Caryan designed for me, close its door and throw the keys away.

Not an option.

I spare one last glance at the drawings I made of Caryan and Riven, still stacked neatly next to my bed, then quickly look away and disappear into the bathroom to change.

I shrug out of my slave clothes and slip into the ones Riven gave me. They fit perfectly, almost like a second skin, black and shiny, reinforced with a pattern of black, inky scales on my elbows and knees. They smell of leather and fire and smoke.

I look at myself in the mirror. I look different in them. Like a warrior. Older. No longer like a shy, frightened girl .

I braid my long hair and then step back out to Riven. He’s been looking out the window and turns when he hears me.

His eyes rove over me, lingering a second too long.

“What?” I feel a sting of heat, despite my anger.

“Nothing. It’s just… it suits you,” he says, his voice a touch hoarse. Then he steps close to me and shoves a dagger into a sheath sewn at my ribs. With a last glance over me, he says, “Keep it close tonight. Let’s go.”

He leads the way toward the dungeons, but then to the left, down another corridor, and there’s the smell of hay and horses when I go down the steps, stumbling into a vast stable with stalls on the left and right, most of them empty because the horses have already been taken to Niavara.

I look at silver name plates on every stall, pausing in front of one that reads Stormhunter. The dappled stallion that stands in that box looks mostly like a horse, but also not. Two large horns protrude from his forehead, rising up high, just next to his ears. He’s also much bigger than any horse I’ve ever seen in the human world. His tail is a lion’s, swishing restlessly back and forth, his neck slimmer and longer, as are his legs, and his eyes are a pale, milky gray. Like the gray of my childhood.

“Not this one,” Riven says and gestures to two horses next to Stormhunter. Moonshine Meadow and Violet Daffodilspring the sign reads.

“Is that a joke?” I can’t help it, despite my tension, despite my own inner turmoil, I have to stifle a laugh.

Irritation flickers over Riven’s features. “This is not funny, Melody.”

“I don’t know what about those names is not funny. Whatever. I want this one,” I say before Riven can answer. There’s an untamed fierceness in Stormhunter that attracts me. That calls my blood. “Hey…” I whisper, carefully stretching my hand out.

At first, the stallion scuttles back, but then he stretches his long neck and gently places his nose against my palm, becoming calm.

I smile at him. “Okay, so you don’t seem to mind taking me to Niavara?” And maybe beyond, I add silently. Maybe I won’t need Sarynx’s horse at all.

Stormhunter snorts. I take that as his agreement. Riven just watches me with his eyebrows raised and a slight frown, but he doesn’t say no. Not that I would have listened.

I saddle Stormhunter quickly. There was a time when Lyrian taught me how to ride. I even had a horse of my own. Lyrian called him Roach because he couldn’t stand him, like he could not stand so many other creatures, but I loved Roach fiercely, with all my tiny little heart. But that was before I got older and Lyrian realized the horse might be something I could escape on one day. Lyrian sold him.

My heart aches at the memory. Riding and cuddling with Roach had been the only almost-happy moments in my life. I shove the memory down and carefully lead Stormhunter out of his box before I swing myself up on his back. Riven is already sitting on a huge, black mare with silvery horns that curl down on either side of her head, her mane reaching down almost to her hooves in waves.

Just then the double-winged door to the stables opens and two guards appear.

Riven starts to say something just as I gently press my legs into Stormhunter’s belly. As if the stallion read my mind, he makes a jump toward them, and I hold on tight, digging my fingers into his mane. He bolts past them so fast they can’t do anything but stare after me, the fae horse swift as lightning and impossible to chase.

The horse gallops down the long, serpentine road that leads from the Fortress to the desert. His hooves move so fast all I can make out is a blur and a cloud of stirred, red dust behind us when I briefly glance back over my shoulder.

Riven’s black mare finally catches up once we reach the flat desert ground, passing the spot where I was almost eaten by that oversized worm. But right now, on the impossibly fast horse, none of this matters. My dark hair has come loose of my braid, streaming unbound as I let go of Stormhunter’s mane, stretch my arms out, and lean back into the wind until I’m lying flat on the horse, cradling that strange, giddy feeling inside me I realize is… joy .

I whoop and Stormhunter neighs in sync with me before he goes even faster. I lean forward, pressing my body flat against his as the world whips past. This is what flying must feel like. How Caryan must feel when he soars through the skies, riding the wind.

Moments like these I might come close to happiness.

The outlines of the town come into view—ochre-colored, rectangular buildings with flat roofs that people are using as terraces emerging out of the dust the closer we get.

We reach the outskirts as darkness falls and the blood moon climbs above the horizon, full and redder than ever, dipping everything in a scarlet twilight.

Stormhunter slows to a canter before easing into a trot alongside Riven’s mare as we pass through the mighty city gate, its facade the same dark and golden-veined stone of the pillar in the Fortress. Huge figures in the form of naked fae with long spears in their hands flank it, sinister expression on their faces greeting everyone who comes through.

“Is this the main gate?” I ask.

Riven nods once. I look for the ruins Sarynx had spoken about to the west. I think I might, indeed, be able to make out some huge columns in the distance, the last remnants of a building that might have once been the library. Later.

Half-naked fae flock the ancient streets of the town. Torches burn in front of every house, along with fire that flickers in huge metal bowls every few meters. Smoke hangs thick in the air and the flames’ shadows dance upon the walls. An eerie music follows us everywhere like a lure, drums echoing through me, wild voices beckoning.

Riven’s riding next to me now, and a hush falls over the crowd when they spot us, throwing us long, penetrating stares. I keep my hair over my face to hide my human ears while the horses find their way through the swaying and chattering crowd, as if they know the way by heart.

I dig my fingers back into Stormhunter’s mane as my eyes flick over fae fucking in corners, blood dripping from their lips and long fangs .

We reach a vast, oval-shaped open area that reminds me of a huge amphitheater in its shape, the buildings around it with their flat roofs forming the outer ring. Fires flicker everywhere, the ground under Stormhunter’s hooves nothing but sand.

People are dancing around a high dais in its middle, dozens of steps leading up to a throne.

My heart leaps. On the throne on the dais is Caryan, surrounded by a lot of naked women. No wings to be seen today, but he seems to rarely have them out.

The music is even wilder here, unrestrained rhythms and deep voices. I spot a priestess on the right side of the platform, performing some kind of sacrifice judging by the slaughtered animals on the marble altar in front of her.

Riven dismounts from his mare and I follow suit, gently brushing the stallion’s sweat-slicked neck as fae come running. They bow deeply to Riven before they lead the horses away.

I dive into the crowd, closer to the priestess, who is now singing, drawn by her voice.

The priestess is a lavender-skinned, tall woman with a lush body clad in nothing but a long, deep-red cloak, a golden tattoo of various stages of a moon’s cycle gracing her forehead. Her eyes are closed. Her back arches and she lifts her arms to the sky the exact moment the fat, gleaming ball of the blood moon appears between them.

The crowd cheers as the priestess opens her eyes and grabs a crescent-shaped knife. Then she cuts her whole forearm open in one long and gaping slash.

The music quiets and her severe, alluring voice fills the air. “When the chains break, the world will rend into a new order. Darkness will reign, blood will drain. Long live our king.”

I watch spellbound as her blood drips into a cabochon-rimmed chalice. She waits until the cut has sealed before she wipes the remnants off with a well-practiced swipe of a piece of cloth. Then she takes the chalice and starts to walk up the dais, her head bowed.

When she reaches Caryan, she falls to her knees, presenting the chalice to him with outstretched hands .

Caryan stands and takes it from her, downing it in one single draft. He then raises the cup high, his voice magnified by some magic, booming over the place. “This world is bent double from weeping. This world has been brought down to its knees. Depleted, compelled into a dark submission by shackles, by violence, by greed. But no more. It is time for a new dawn. A dawn of unity. A dawn of justice. A dawn of dominance.”

An eerie quiet has settled over the revelry. Everything is silent. The crowd listens, awed. Spellbound. Electrified. Hanging on every word from Caryan’s lips. I feel Riven close behind me as I stand among them, shivering as wave after wave of Caryan’s dark power thunders over us, twin to the black lightning streaking over the red sky above us. I, too, am watching, arrested by the anger in his voice, by his fierce determination, by the very thing he is saying.

“No one ever expected an angel to set the world on fire. But I’m no average angel. I am the last. I am the most powerful. I wasn’t born to be subservient. I wasn’t born to kneel. I was born to make the world shake and tremble at my fingertips.”

Again, thunder rumbles above, around, right through the crowd, his magic, breaking over the place like an avalanche. Black and mighty, its primal force so strong it brings the people to their knees.

“We are on the brink of war. A war bigger than anything this world has ever seen. We will stand shoulder to shoulder. We will fight shoulder to shoulder. You will bow to no one and nothing but me. I am your king. I will be your sword. I will make the sky scream. Together, we will bend the heavens and raise the hells.

“No one wearing a crown ever came in the name of peace. But I prefer times of precarious peace over a freedom in slavery. Let us fight. Let our enemies cower in the wake of our armies. If this is to end in fire, we will burn. Choke our foes on the dust of their scorched dreams. Smother them under the debris of their hubris. Let us dance in the ashes of tradition.”

The crowd starts to cheer and jump as his power flickers through them once more, wicked, infernal, and ancient, driving them into a wild frenzy. Some start to rip their clothes from their bodies, others grab each other and dig their teeth into each other’s throats, while others begin dancing to an even wilder, deeper, and darker music.

Kegs with wine and ale are rolled in and people fill wooden cups with it. I stroll, pushing my way through the crowd, through bodies grinding against each other, drinking blood from each other’s throats. I watch fire eaters and acrobats dancing with two burning balls of fire on an end of a long chain, so fast they paint figures of animals into the night.

Although I don’t look back, I know Riven’s trailing me and staying close. I can feel him behind me. Feel his presence as close and physical as I feel Caryan’s presence all over the place. As if there’s an invisible chain connecting my soul with theirs. I don’t want to ponder it. Certainly not now. Not after what Sarynx said to me before.

Not when I’m going to run.

When I glance up to the dais, I see a naked woman with moon-white skin and dark hair rocking up and down on Caryan. The same woman who kissed him last night.

The sight slices through me. Cuts straight through my wild mind to a place right behind my ribs.

I pause. I close my eyes then and, for a moment, let the drums and the voices and rhythms seep into me, right into my soul. For a moment, I become that dark thing that belongs to the fires, the smoke, the magic, as wild and violent as this world itself.

When I open my eyes again, I find Caryan looking straight at me, as if he can, indeed, make me out in the crowd. My heart startles.

He can’t.

He probably can with his fae sight.

The woman still moves on him, arching her back, swirling her hips.

I bite down on my lip, hard. Again, that woman could be me with that skin, that long hair .

A dull ache fills me, reaching right down between my legs.

The way his hands are on her thighs. His lips on her throat…

I turn away, only to find Riven standing close behind me, watching my every move. The flames dance in his purple eyes and over his chiseled face. I thought he looked breathtaking in decadent attire, all the gems on him vying with his eyes. But he’s never looked more beautiful than now.

Tall. Serene. Dark and dangerous.

I near him, carefully placing my hands on his chest, feeling the heat of him under my fingers through the scaled fabric seeping into my flesh. A shudder of premonition goes through me as he grabs my hips. A brief brush of his thumbs over my hipbones and a little bit down makes heat flush my very core.

I know he senses it in me by the way his amethyst eyes darken.

He leans in and murmurs over my skin. “Careful. These nights are all part of a sacred rite. Tonight, Caryan’s magic makes all of us wild. Makes it harder to control ourselves in every regard.”

I should heed his warning. Maybe. But all I can think of is the feeling of his closeness and his hands on my body. Part of me wants to rip off those clothes and shred his skin.

He kept from me that my mother ran from Caryan. What else does he keep from me?

Maybe I’m one of them after all, because right now, it’s hard not to bite him to taste his flesh. His blood. His lips. I sink my nails deep into his armor, all too aware that Caryan’s still watching me. All too aware of Riven’s hard body under my hands and how he felt above me. Painfully aware of Caryan’s magic, reverberating through my flesh and bones with every heartbeat.

Riven lets out a hiss as my hands slide under his armor and my nails pierce the skin of his chest. “You do not want this,” he growls.

“Maybe I do,” I say, sinking them deeper into his skin, letting all my anger rush to the surface.

His eyes flare as he grabs my wrists, painfully strong. He spins me around so I’m pressed against him, my wrists now captured by his hand behind my back. “Tell me that you don’t want this,” Riven says again, but his words come cut off, breathless, his lips on my pulse.

I shiver from fury, from heat. “It’s exactly what I want,” I counter as I meet Caryan’s gaze, the woman still straddling him, still moving up and down. I don’t want to think anymore. I want to feel . More. Something other than this anger, this fear.

And this is dangerously different.

“Melody.” Riven says my name like a warning, as if he’s something to be warned about. His other hand catches in my hair, pulling my head back, making me arch into him. Forcing me into place before he pushes against me. Hard.

I swear the expression in Caryan’s face shifts. Swear I feel all his lethal focus trained on me, as power, night-streaked dew and living, black lightning starts to slither along my skin and under it. I shiver as it runs along my waist, my belly. Flickering along the underside of my small breasts.

Magic, brimming with Caryan’s very essence. However this works, it’s him doing this . I know it in my blood as if he’s touching me himself.

A strange, different kind of panic fuels me then. What is happening here?

But I keep my gaze straight, my chin up. Keep holding Caryan’s eyes like a challenge. As if in answer, the magic morphs, turning unbearably soft, like river water. I gasp as it runs over my nipples, just as Riven’s strong fingers let go of my wrists to splay over my belly, locking me into place as he thrusts against me another time.

Need, hot and searing, streaks down my spine, threating to make my knees buckle. It buries itself deep between my legs, thrumming there with an unfamiliar ache.

“Melody.” Riven murmurs my name again, this time like a prayer against my ear. And it’s the breathless, deep timbre in his voice, the desire in it, matching my own, that undoes me.

Another wave of want , stronger than before, sluices through me, hot and sharp and searing. So violent I can barely breathe. Riven pushes himself against me even harder at the same moment something sharp, like talons or teeth, scrapes over the sensitive peaks of my nipples, cutting through my senses.

I’m going to burst. To rip open and burn. And burn. And burn.

I suppress a whimper as Riven pushes his entire body against mine. I meet him halfway, leaning into him, desperate for more friction, cursing the layers of fabric between us.

But I need more. I need him.

It feels insane. This want. This desire. I’ve never been with a man before.

But I need him closer. Deeper . At the inside of my very being.

Riven lets out a growl that travels right into my core. He yanks my head back, exposing my neck and licks down the column of my throat.

That moment those teeth of smoke and dew and night clamp down my nipples, right under my clothes, one at a time, trailed by a night-kissed tongue and lips that suck at them, leaving me on the verge of pleasure and pain. Caryan’s magic.

Riven’s hand slides between my legs.

I might have cried out, but something pushes itself between my lips. Something velvety and dark as the night probing into my mouth.

My eyes fly up to the dais, to Caryan. I find him standing now, looking down on me. He’s dressed again, no trace of the woman; his face utterly blank.

But by the golden glint in his eyes, I know it’s still him, woven in between the inky plume of magic that still swirls around my nipples, who is now invading my lips. It’s him in my mouth, gliding in and out in a slow, steady rhythm. A touch deeper each time he pulls out and pushes back again.

It’s Caryan who’s fucking my lips. My mouth. At the same pace Riven’s fingers fuck me. The same pace with which he’s pushing himself against me in hard thrusts.

It’s too much. I can’t take it.

I liquefy.

My legs shake and my body trembles as I come .

I would collapse if Riven let go of me, but his hands lock me into place, continuing while I fracture in his grip, watching Caryan through my lashes.

Another shove down my throat. Brutal this time. So deep it makes swallowing impossible.

I open my eyes wide. Caryan just looks back at me unfazed and cruel and ancient, his face still revealing nothing of what he’s doing as his magic drives into me one more time.

Even deeper. Too deep. To a point where it just hurts.

Tears well in my eyes. I can’t breathe.

He just keeps looking at me for a heartbeat longer.

Then darkness around him ripples and he’s gone. His magic along with him.