Page 163 of Kingdom of the Two Moons

“It’s dark magic,” Caryan says. “Old runes.Gatilla gave them to me.”

I look up to meet his eyes again, but they are veiled by something I can’t grasp. It might be melancholy, but I’m not sure.

Then he gets up in such a smooth, powerful movement that all I can do is watch with awe. He takes a few steps away, his powerful back to me. I get up too, briefly afraid that I’ve said something wrong, but then he returns to me.

He lifts his hand to my cheek, tracing the flowers there before he says, “You were crying. Before, at the festivities.”

He saw it.I want to look away, but he holds my chin gently, studying my face like a painting.

His voice falls low, and I don’t trust my ears when he murmurs, “You are even more beautiful when you cry.”

My breath catches in my throat. I wonder how it is that a lot of the things he says sound like a compliment and a threat at the same time. I don’t know what to make of the way his eyes drink in my face. How he kept looking at me the same cold and indifferent way he’s looking at me now while he pushed himself between my lips. Cruelly. Aloof. As if he’s pondering how far he wants to let himself go.

But his expression doesn’t match his tone when he says, “Do not believe that I don’t know how much you fear being locked away again.”

“Does that mean you won’t?”

“I do not want to. That doesn’t mean I’m not going to if I have to.”

“Cool.” I look down at my naked feet in the grass.

“But I do not like to see you sad,” he adds, immune to my sarcasm.

I peer up at the silvery stars, my chest tight. “How will this work? You keep me forever?”

To my huge surprise, he asks back, “What is it that you would rather do?”

“I don’t know. Have a house by the sea one day. Maybe a dog. A simple life. Freedom.”

“Freedom can easily turn into aimlessness,” he retorts, and I expect a joke.

But when I glance back at him, I find his gaze unusually soft. Knowing.

“You think I can’t live on my own?”

“Do you want to?”

I look away. “Honestly, I’ve never really thought about it.”

I’ve been too busy surviving. Running. Escaping. Fighting. There had been no place forwant.When I again glance back at him, I see that he already knows all those things. It makes me feel naked.

“That doesn’t mean I want to live a life in shackles,” I snap.

“Some perceive the boundaries of an enclosure as safety because outside looms the wild,” he counters.

“Yeah? Who? Sheep?” I snap.

“For one.”

“Well, I’m not a sheep.”

His callous lips tear into an almost smile as he leans into my space. “No. What are you then?”

Indignation lifts my chin. “You tell me.”

“Bold. Daring. Valorous. Audacious. Enigmatic. Rebellious.”

“Lovely—” I seethe.

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