Page 71 of Kingdom of the Two Moons

Melody

Freefall. The ground comes into focus too quickly. My heart, leaping into my throat. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The pearl—it doesn’t work! It was supposed to allow me to fly. Maybe I should have asked how quickly it would work.

I fall and fall. It feels so much like I always imagined it would when I stood on that cliff, those grayish swells waltzing underneath.

I watch the hard rock passing me by in a blur, the stony, unforgiving, desert ground that will be my grave already waiting.

I don’t even blink when something catches me and lifts me three seconds before I collide with the ground.

No, nothing catches me. Something catches the wind.

I turn my head and stare at the pair of beautiful, lavender moth wings protruding from my back, shedding sparkling dust every time they move. They beat of their own accord, as if they are sentient.

Not long, Arbor warned me. They won’t last long.

“To the town,” I beg them because I don’t know what else to do. I’ll find a horse and then go north, as Sarynx said. I pray that the spell will last long enough and not run out in the middle of the desert.

The wings beat hard, lifting me up and up in the air, shedding more glittery sparks into the night.

Just then something blots out the blood moon. My head snaps up, and my stomach plummets. Something gargantuan. A… dragon. Above me is a dragon with four horns protruding from his head, an immensely huge, leathery body, and a deadly, black Morningstar as a tail.

Its gleaming golden eyes find me. Then it dives for me with teeth the size of my forearm bared. Terror seizes my throat and my heart lurches.

“Back to the Fortress!” I scream at the wings, and they beat harder than ever, pitching upwards. The beast rushes past, jaw snapping shut, those teeth passing so close to my arm I could touch them.

But the stream of air produced by the dragon’s massive, leathery wings whips me further up, hurling me through the night like a butterfly in a storm.

The dragon lets out a frustrated screech, and then banks, coming for me again. I stare at it diving toward me, my heart hammering like mad while my tiny wings shed more and more stardust.

“Faster!” I beg them.

The dragon surges up from below, its deadly mouth in direct line with my body.

Three seconds away.

Two.

One.

I’m dinner.

My wings disappear without a warning.

I’m in free fall again. Darkness swooshes around me as the ground rises to meet me once again. Air rushes past me as I plummet toward my certain death. Above me, I hear the click of those massive teeth as they rip into nothing but air.

I hit the ground. Hard.

I brace for the impact with my elbows, shielding my head. Searing pain shoots through my knees and a scream rips from my throat. I blink, fighting to keep from blacking out. My bones sing. I try to move my limbs, one by one, my toes, my fingers. Everything hurts like hell, but nothing seems to be broken .

I dare to glance down between my hands. A terrace. I’ve landed on one of the many terraces.

Above me, the beast screeches again, and I scramble to my feet, grab the sword that landed somewhere next to me, and sprint toward the door. I feel wards as I splay my fingers against the metal of the door, cool and smooth like an invisible wall of ice. The tattoo on my wrist warms and the wards ripple briefly before they let me through. Stunned, I tumble inside. The tattoo did this. It works like a key.

I try to catch my breath while my eyes scan the room, my fist closed tight around the hilt of the sword. Kyrith’s scent invades my nostrils, and I panic briefly before I realize that I’m in his room. He’s not here, but everything smells of him.

I cross the vast room in a few strides but stop at a table where various weapons and scabbards are neatly laid out, polished and honed to perfection. I grab a leathery, black scabbard, sling it over my shoulders, and sheathe the sword between my shoulder blades. Then I head for the door and rip it open. Again it’s the new tattoo that opens it before I have to break through those wards, saving me precious time. I need to get out of the Fortress. I need to get away before Caryan recovers.

I clamp down on my desperation, my fear of what will happen if Caryan finds me. He won’t, I cut my spiraling thoughts off. I’ll be long gone. End of story. I don’t allow myself to think of another option.

I stagger into a corridor and run.

I know my way. And for some miraculous reason, like on my first night, not a single soul crosses my way as I sprint through the Western quarters.

I don’t know what would happen if someone did. I’m glad I don’t have to let myself find out, with that strange new force still thrashing and roaring under my skin, all too eager to shred and rip and burn.

I shove it down and cross the patio to the kitchen.

I’m still shaking, flinching at every sound that travels through the endless corridors, every sense in me alert. My heartbeat; feverish .

Then footsteps. Long strides. Coming close. Too close, too fast.

My eyes scan the corridor, desperately trying to find somewhere to hide, but there are only smooth, cold walls and the door to Riven’s quarters to my right.

Just then Riven cuts around the corner. His eyes widen when he takes me in.

I just stare back at him, backing down when he nears. He looks disheveled and drunk, his hair irreverent, and the kohl under his eyes slightly smeared, but his eyes are sober.

“Melody, what…” His voice is breathless and tinged with worry as he looks at me.

I just shake my head, unable to speak, unable to form words.

He must see the horror in my gaze, because his face changes, hardening as he gestures to his quarters. The door swings open.

I follow him in. My sword is by his throat before he can react.

His purple eyes are wide, and he swallows against the blade, but they focus on me with new intensity. “Melody, please…”

But his words are not about the sword, I realize, but about my bruises. He reaches out to me, wanting to run his fingers over them. “Melody—”

“How do I get out? I’m sure there is some secret tunnel or something,” I cut him off, angling the sword as a reminder and he lowers his arm. I suspect Caryan’s magic somehow prevents my talent from working inside the Fortress.

His brows rise as his eyes find the marks on my wrist. The tattoo, now adorned with some of Caryan’s runes. He looks back at me, the light in his eyes dimmed by shock. “This is a part of Caryan’s tattoo. How did you…?”

“It doesn’t matter. Tell me how I get out,” I hiss, more animal than human, making the blade cut ever so slightly into his skin. My heart is hammering so hard it makes me sick. But with those monsters prowling outside, I can’t just break through the wards again, and there’s no chance I will manage to fight the soldiers guarding the stables.

Riven clenches his teeth and sucks in a sharp breath in response. But the rest of him makes no move to fight me. I know he could if he wanted to. And that he would probably win—new magic in my veins or not. I don’t allow myself to even think what it would do to me if Riven hurt me.

But he just looks like I’ve slapped him awake.

“An escape,” I remind him. “A hidden pathway. Anything .”

“I’m afraid there isn’t,” Riven says quietly, those startling eyes somber behind his thick, long lashes.

Panic grabs me by the throat. “Are you sure?” I ask with all the menace I can muster.

“As sure as I can be.” Riven takes a step backward, but I hold the blade steady.

We move like that through the room until he sinks onto the edge of a low, velvet daybed, and I stand before him, the blade still at his throat.

“Don’t fuck with me,” I warn. “Or I might slice your throat.”

“What a tempting challenge,” he has the nerve to counter.

“I’m dead serious,” I snarl.

He looks up at me before leaning back against the cushions, closing his eyes. He says, words full of self-mockery, “Do it, if you feel like spilling a little blue blood tonight.”

That’s all.

“You’re drunk,” I hiss.

“Oh yes, indeed, my beautiful darling,” he replies, his violet eyes on me.

“What is the best way out?”

He stays silent. I realize the reason he doesn’t answer is that he can’t lie and that he doesn’t want to tell me the truth. I lean forward and bring the blade to his throat once again, angling it so the sharp point bites into his skin, drawing blood.

“Tell me, Riven.”

“Or what?” To my horror, he grabs my wrist too fast and leans in.

He’s caught me. And I let him, forgetting about his speed. I’m a fucking fool .

My chest closes in on my stupid heart, my lungs; my thoughts running wild.

As if Riven can read every single one of them, he lets go of me.

“You… let me go,” I breathe, not trusting it.

“As you said, I must be drunk,” he replies nonchalantly.

The way he looks at me shocks me into silence though. I can’t stand it, can’t stand that he can read my terror, smell it, sense it.

“If you want to help me, then tell me how I get out of here.”

“You already know how… because you left the Fortress that way, along with Caryan and the others,” he answers, and now I understand. He can’t tell me directly even if he wants to. Because something has changed between Caryan and him. Caryan forbade it.

We stare at each other.

“Don’t dare try to stop me,” I warn.

“I wouldn’t, and you know it.” He covers his eyes with a long-fingered hand before he whispers, “Maybe you should just cut my throat after all.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” I snap.

He reaches out to me again, the traces of silver in his face catching the low light as he pulls me toward him, despite the threat of the sword. Then he kisses me, hard yet gentle, careful not to touch any of my bruises.

He pulls back too quickly, breathless, his eyes roving over every inch of me. “Did Caryan…?”

I timidly shake my head.

“But your skin, those bruises…” he replies, his eyes gleaming with rage.

“He didn’t rape me,” I answer truthfully. “He… forced his magic into me and gave me these runes.”

“Melody—”

“I have to leave.” I pull back and head for the door.

I say, “Please… be careful,” before, with a last glance at him, I slip out of the room.

My heart breaks, and I know the bravest thing I ever did is run.