Page 213 of Kingdom of the Two Moons

“This is not how this works,” she says, and I can see that she doesn’t trust me.Fae rules.

“Well, then tell me your name.”

Her eyes widen for a sliver of a moment. “Blair.”

“Now eat, Blair,” I say.

She goes for the duck leg first. I watch with a kind of horrified fascination as she devours it almost whole. She eats the whole piece in less than a minute, bones included. When all the food is gone, she leans her head back, color creeping back into her skin.

“You look like Gatilla,” I say quietly.

It’s clearly the wrong thing to say because she bares her teeth at me. I see hate in her aura, a second too late. Hate. And jealousy. Pain. Disgust. Fear. Envy. Horror.

“How would you know, little human, huh?”

“I saw it, in Caryan’s blood,” I answer quietly.

She lets out a hissing sound. “Do I look like my aunt, huh? With my hair bleached and white and barren.” She spits the words out, her face torn with fury and pain. Shehatesit—her new look.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, meaning it with my whole heart. She looks away. “But it’s rather beautiful, you know,” I add.

Her head snaps back to me. “Spare me your dewy-eyed sentiment, little liar.”

“It’s true. You look like a moonmaiden.”

“Shouldn’t you be fucking off or something?”

“At least you don’t look like your aunt anymore. Maybe it is a new start,” I try.

She stills before her eyes glower at me with all the fury I just saw scorching her soul. “Why would I not want to look like my aunt? I loved her.”

I shake my head. “No. You didn’t. You just told yourself that you loved her, but deep down, you hated her,” I say before I can think better of it.

She flexes her clawed fingers. “Is that a challenge?”

“No, I’m sorry.” I shake my head, regretting my words.

“Are you? Shove your psycho-tips up your human ass until they shine out of your mouth. I call that reversed bullshit deep-throat,” Blair growls, slamming her hands against the bars. “Now you better run back to your master before Caryan starts to miss his breakable little toy.”

“I’mnothis toy,” I retort with a sudden anger that surprises me.

As if she felt it, she croons, her eyes shining wildly, “No? Should I call you hislover? Or rather mistress? Or slut?”

I raise my chin. “I’ve been called worse, but that’s not what I am.”

She huffs a laugh, an eerie sound, thrown back by the walls. “No? Are you not? Tell me you haven’t yet opened your legs for him. Tell me that you make the exception and are the one who isn’t under his clean thumb.”

“You’re jealous of me,” I say to my surprise, but it shines clearly over all the other emotions, lacing with her anger. How could anyone looking like her be jealous ofme?

She bares her teeth, the canines as long as Caryan’s fangs, but silver and slimmer.

We look at each other.

“You love him…” I gather, reading her aura like an open book. Caryan. She lovesCaryan. I try to understand what I see there, and how that goes along with what I know. “I thought he was youraunt’s lover.” That’s what Riven told me. What I saw in Caryan’s memories.

“My aunt’sslave,” she seethes, her pale fingers with long silver claws—which match her canines—twining around the bars as if she’d like to grind them like old bones and come for me.

“He broke your heart,” I say quietly. I can see that she’s hurting, so much. Her aura, bleeding sorrow.

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