Page 149 of Kingdom of the Two Moons

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, drivingthem 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 canfeelhim 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 bemewith that skin, that long hair.

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

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