Page 133 of Kingdom of the Two Moons

“I know. But that’s not me,” I say quietly, self-consciously. Forcing myself to look back at Nidaw. I want to wear pants, something I can run and climb and fight in. Something I can hide a knife in. Definitely nothing that makes me feel even more vulnerable than I already do.

“Itisyou,” the siren contradicts.

“I can’t,” I repeat. “I won’t.”

Nidaw clicks her tongue. “The high lord suspected you would say exactly that. And he said I should tell you that the dress is wild and beautiful—just like you are. That’s why he chose it. But if you should not feel comfortable, you are free to wear whatever you please, he assured me. He wants you to feel comfortable,” she adds the last part in a tone that makes it very clear that she doesn’t at all agree with Riven and only says it because he ordered her to.

Riven said that I’m wild and beautiful?I don’t know how to respond. Don’t know whether I should believe it. But they can’t lie, so…

I glance down at that dress.Then I look at Nidaw, who gives me a reassuring smile in return.

“Come, let’s get your hair done first, and then you can decide,” she offers kindly.

She sits me down at the vanity, painting my lips and eyes silver before she puts some magnificent peacock feathers in my hair, the color matching the azure and emerald glitter around my eyes and on my temples.

Eventually, Nidaw stands behind me as I look at myself one last time in the huge mirror next to the vanity.

The dress is indeed dreamlike. I want to strip it off. Want to slip into something less extravagant, something less revealing.

But Nidaw puts her clawed hands on my shoulders, meeting my eyes in the mirror. “You look like an elf,” she states, proudness in her voice. “Like an elven princess.”

“I am not,” I respond quietly.

Nidaw frowns at me before she combs with loose fingers through my hair, as if to fix some stray strands. “You are not? Your mother was the daughter of a king. It may be time that you follow in her steps.”

“What?”

Instead of an answer she takes my fingers and leads me to the door of the bathroom before whispering, with another knowing smile playing around her bluish lips, “But most of all—have fun, my little one. Life can be dire enough.”

She ushers me out into the corridor before I can ask her more about my mother. Or tell her I’ve changed my mind about the dress.

42

Melody

As I silently meander through the corridors, I wonder whether the fae ever ache after evenings of wine and celebrations. Are they ever hungover after they get riotously drunk? Do they ever fall into an exhausted sleep like I did the few times I stole wine from Lyrian’s cellar?

I follow the sound traveling through the halls, along with the warm wind leading me out through a grand door and into a garden I’ve never seen before.

A surreal garden. Impossible. Full of green trees and the ground strewn with windfall apples. Surprisingly soft, plush grass under my bare feet, which could never exist in a desert like this if it weren’t for magic.

A thousand fireflies dance between the oaks and willows and cherry trees, illuminating the moss-covered shingles of bark.

I stride through it, trailing after the sound of haunting music and laughter, until candles illuminate a path, two large torches flanking the entrance to a maze, its hedge higher than my head. I look around, unsure what to do. A man appears next to me, stepping out of the darkness. His skin is a pattern of white and black tattoos that seem to blur with the shadows, his hair the deepest blue in the flickering light, his face a masterpiece of classical beauty.

“Are you lost, my lady?” he asks gently.

“I’m no lady—” I start.

But he holds up a hand. “Indeed you are. Lord Riven sent me and wishes you the greatest offun.” His eyes twinkle as he speaks the last word, his sensuous mouth twitching. We both know Riven would never have used it. “I was sent to tell you that you might find him in the middle. He also mentioned that it shouldn’t be a problem for you to find the right way if you just think of him.”

Before I can say more, or ask for his name, he vanishes as if he was never here.

Fun. The same word twice in one evening.

I eye the maze, unsure, but then step into it.Think of him.Riven wants me to use my special talent to find him, so I will.

It’s suddenly so easy to send my senses out and have them show me the way through the fallacious paths toward the laughing and dancing like a beacon. There are more torches lining the thick greenery of the vast clearing when I reach it. Everywhere, cushions and carpets are strewn in the dappled shade of oak trees and willows, their branches long and slim like ivy vines, shivering in the wind, hiding the naked bodies moving and writhing beneath it.

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