Page 112 of Kingdom of the Two Moons

But not for long.

Shadows creep in over the valley, whisper-soft against my skin, spreading over the ground, weaving through the air and sweeping over the desert, devouring light and life in their path. For a second, they even block out the moons and the stars and it turns pitch black.

For a moment, there is no sound, no light, just darkness.

Only pristine, primal darkness that devours all living things.

It’s over in a heartbeat and the shadows pull back into their dark creator. Flakes of ash waft into my face—the only remnants of the worm.

I swallow hard.

Caryan just killed the rest of that monster with half a thought.

With his shadows. Shadows that can erase a monster like that worm in seconds, eating it up, reducing it to its very essence—dust.

I’ve seen the work of Caryan’s shadows before. His magic. I saw what he could do with it—like shattering Kyrith’s hand without having to lift a single finger. I know he can do much darker things if he wishes to.

But knowing it is different to witnessing it firsthand.Feelingit firsthandisdifferent.

I sense the flow of his power everywhere, endless and mighty, writhing and ancient, singing around me through the air. A black, but beautiful melody through the world. What I felt on him when I touched him, what sometimes brushed up against me—I realize, with a kind of cold shock—was just a whisper of his raw, true power. A shard. A fragment.

No wonder he’s feared.

Was he ever to release it fully, it might raze a forest, level a city. Destroy a whole world.

But I feel him calling it back, that tidal wave on the surface of an ocean of darkness. It obeys, pulling back into him, but not without one more brush against me, gentle and…curious, before being once again leashed and contained.

Only then does Caryan turn to me, his eyes as dark as his shadows, as if they’re still shining through his eyes. They would be all black if it weren’t for the golden ring around his irises, keeping the darkness at bay. His fangs are bared, the blue, glowing sword with which he cut the worm still in his hand. It’s almost as long as my own body.

But for once, I don’t look at his eyes or that sword, but at the huge, angelic wings that are protruding from his back.

Velvety, black feathers that look so soft I want to reach out and bury my whole body in them dance in a soft breeze. The last sunlight bounces off them, silvering their mighty arches, vying with the ink-black remnants of his magic that curl off them like living night and smoke.

Hells, he looks apocalyptic. And utterly, terrifyingly beautiful. An avenging angel who’s just fallen from the sky.

“Are you mad? Do you so desperately want to die?” His voice is ice-cold, startling me out of my stupor. His anger, a living thing simmering in the air between us. But however lethal, I’ve never been happier to see him.

He is here. He came. He saved me.

My heart can’t fully comprehend this possibility.

All I manage is a shake of my head.

I’m not dead. Not yet. Slowly, so slowly does this realization seep in.

He flares his wings once, shadows still whirling in their wake, trailing off him in waves now. His voice comes out more as a growl than words as he snaps, “No? Why do you break through my wards then and run out into the wild when I warned you about this? About monsters lurking and crawling here?”

My ribs are still too tight from the shock, and for a moment, relief is all I’m capable of feeling, although I should probably be terrified. Caryan’s deadly, he’s just proven that.Again.

And there will be consequences. It’s that fact ringing in my head that makes me lift my chin, cutting through my dizziness. Sobering me up. “You warned me about yourself. You said you are the worst of them.”

“And I told you not to push me, didn’t I? I told you not to push your luck.” His eyes have shifted to a flaming amber now, as if they are radiating from within.

It takes all my strength not to shiver, not to retreat from his sight, from those fangs and those eyes that seem to devour the darkness around us. Devour me. A part of him looks like he wants to do just that.

And gods help me, but right now he looks far more frightening than that fucking worm.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline in my bloodstream, the crazy high from it making me daring, but I find myself saying, “Yeah, I guess I should consider myself lucky to be held as a slave in the middle of nowhere.”

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