Page 207 of Kingdom of the Two Moons

He must have secretly laughed about me.

I barely register that we’ve left the forest, barely feel the brushof the invisible curtain and the shift of energy when we enter his kingdom again. One car is still there, the doors open as if waiting for us to get in.

Caryan drives and I curl up on the seat next to him, occasionally glancing at him from beneath my hair. His marvelous face is a mask of stoicism, but I can see the tendrils of anger that twine around his aura, suffocating everything like thorny vines. Can feel the anger as a prickle on the underside of my skin, again as if it’sinme.

Anger and hate and disgust so deep it burns my soul.

He hates me for my failure, and is probably disgusted by me. For trespassing into his life, not that I had any choice.

He doesn’t so much as glance at me once the whole drive. Not when we stop for tiny breaks, not when we eventually reach the Fortress. He just steps into the shadows as soon as we’ve walked up the stairs from the garage, leaving me alone in the corridor, as if he can’t bear to spend another second with me.

***

The Fortress is quiet without the celebrations, and I wonder how long we’ve been gone. It feels like an eternity. I slowly walk back to my room, not meeting anyone on my way. I take a long, hot shower before putting on some fresh clothes and climbing into bed.

But as soon as I close my eyes, there are pictures, clearer in the silence of night—a different kind of hell and anguish once again.

I get up and only then notice a set of paints and some sketchpads and canvases next to a fresh palette and an array of brushes. A tiny card in beautiful handwriting says:

Stay wild, moonchild.

Welcome back, Riven.

I stare at the card, tracing the swift, elegant letters with my finger before a quiet tear falls onto the paper.

I’ve never received such a gift from anyone. Not once in my life.

I stay still for a while, the sudden warmth in my chest like a shield against those dark and evil flashbacks that are still prowling through me. Then I get up, carefully unwrap the colors, and start to paint.

66

Riven

Riven finds Caryan in the ring in the arena, his powerful upper body naked and sweat-slicked as he dodges relentless, night-misted punches from Arien, one of the few shadow-shifters Riven’s ever caught sight of—they are so rare. Feared for their ability to turn into liquid night without giving themselves away by smell or sound—and their relentless speed—their reflexes are even faster than those of high elves. They are a dangerous, lurking species who, as far as Riven knows, can also breathe underwater like mermaids. Arien is not a creature Riven would trust for a second if he wasn’t blood-sworn to Caryan, yet he has become the best spy Riven’s ever met.

The shadow-shifter launches for another attack, Arien’s lithe body—muscle, covered thick with ornaments, white skin glinting through them as fluorescent as the moon over the waves—shooting forward. His hair, already sticking to his forehand, is the deepest blue, like the coldest part of the sea, the color matching eyes that are trained on Caryan with unrelenting focus.

Seeing Caryan and Arien fight isn’t something one would easily forget. Their motions are an avalanche of blocks and attacks so fast even Riven’s vision has trouble following. Only the mist that permanently envelops the shadow-shifter betrays his moves.

Arien dodges a blow from Caryan before he sidesteps, then vanishes only to reappear to Caryan’s left, his fist already going forCaryan’s face when the arch of a black wing manifests out of nowhere and hits the shadow-shifter right in the face.

He goes down, so slack Riven knows it’s a knockout.

Caryan sneers, his breath still coming slowly. No wonder the elves killed the angels.They are frightening.

At Caryan’s feet, the shadow-shifter comes to, coughing hard but grinning at Caryan as he gets up, wiping blood from his lips. “I didn’t see that coming,” Arien says, true surprise ringing in his voice.

“Me neither,” Riven agrees.

The shadow-shifter turns, still grinning, his teeth covered in blood.

“We’re done, thank you, Arien,” Caryan says.

The shifter nods once before he grabs one of the towels and steps out of the ring. Another step and he’s gone altogether.

In the ring, Caryan spreads his fingers along with his wings.

“I thought you had a long journey,” Riven says, sauntering closer, one hand in his pocket.

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