Page 125 of Kingdom of the Two Moons

A lot of soldiers would fall.

This was going to change this world forever. Change her. Forever.

She’d been so focused on the task of their mission that she’d managed to push it all back.

Time had been a blur.

She’d barely seen Caryan during those past months. Only in those hours they’d spent debating in the council tent, standing around the massive wooden table laid out with maps and protocols of his spies.

Had barely spent a night with him, thanks to her aunt sticking around. But she’d been too tired anyway for any clear thought. It had been worse than the harvesting they’d done before. Her magic was drained, night by night, from fighting high elves. She slept too little before she and her coven left again as the last ray of sun disappeared.

The full scope of what awaited them hadn’t hit her until now.

Her gaze drifted back to the army down in the valley. One more day, maybe two, until they would attack.

And the world would bleed like never before.

40

Riven

Riven watches Melody sleep next to him on his bed. It was how Caryan came in, her in his arms, gently lowering her onto the silken pillows. His king vanished without a second glance at her, or another word to him.

Riven’s been watching her ever since. The way her eyes move restlessly under her lids, the way she mumbles words as if talking to someone in her dreams, her delicate body still only veiled by a towel. Once, he found himself reaching out to her, as if to run his fingertips over the curve of her chin.

He shouldn’t. Shouldn’t be that much of a fool.

As if she sensed it, though, her eyes fly open.

“You… are not Caryan,” she says.

“I cannot disagree.”

She sits up, her eyes taking in her surroundings. He lit the candles for her, not sure whether she is able to see in the dark as fae can or not. They flicker in the color of his unholy magic, black with hues of lilac, mingling with the sanguine light the moon is shedding.

They make her brown hair shine in crimson hues, her red lips even darker, the color of her eyes like the leaves in fall.

He notices how her gaze catches on the tapestries hung on the walls. The only leftovers he took from his former life once Caryan freed him from his shackles.

“Those are… beautiful,” she says.

“They are. I took them from the ivory halls of the royal palace in Palisandre,” he agrees. They’re the only flammable things his demonic flames haven’t turned to ashes. The only remnants he wants to have around.

She glances at him, and he knows she sees the darkness in his aura by the way her eyes change. She looks back at the tapestries. “They seem alive, somehow.”

“They are, in a sense. They were made by forest sprites. They say they wove the whole Newmoon Woodlands into five of them, capturing all its creatures and secrets within. It’s a myth, though. A kind one.”

“The Newmoon Woodlands?”

“The dryads’ sanctum. The elves destroyed it and killed their queen when she refused to bow to the king. A lot of songs and stories sprang from that cruel event, as fae have a penchant for bloodshed and barbarity. One of them claims that a demon princess came along right on time, and with the aid of those forest sprites, turned them all into five murals to save them. As I said, a myth, but one I’d like to believe,” he responds gravely. “Better than to think they did, indeed, burn down the forest and behead their queen.”

She says nothing, just chews on her lips.

Riven leans forward. “Do you see now how cruel this world is? Or do you need some more stories to set a spark to your imagination?”

Her eyes fly up to him at his tone, at his words. “Thank you, I already know how cruel it is,” she hisses. “It’s not like I missed that scene in the throne room.”

“Good. You shouldn’t have. Maybe you understand now how lucky we are to find you still alive, not devoured by some otherworldly monster.” She looks away as he continues, “I’m surprised, though, to find you still unharmed. Your skin not torn apart by the whip.”

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