Page 221 of Kingdom of the Two Moons

I follow him in. My sword is by his throat before he can react.

His purple eyes are wide, and he swallows against the blade, but they focus on me with new intensity. “Melody, please…”

But his words are not about the sword, I realize, but about my bruises. He reaches out to me, wanting to run his fingers over them. “Melody—”

“How do I get out? I’m sure there is some secret tunnel or something,” I cut him off, angling the sword as a reminder and he lowers his arm. I suspect Caryan’s magic somehow prevents my talent from workinginsidethe Fortress.

His brows rise as his eyes find the marks on my wrist. The tattoo, now adorned with some of Caryan’s runes. He looks back at me, the light in his eyes dimmed by shock. “This is a part of Caryan’s tattoo. How did you…?”

“It doesn’t matter. Tell me how I get out,” I hiss, more animal than human, making the blade cut ever so slightly into his skin. My heart is hammering so hard it makes me sick. But with those monsters prowling outside, I can’t just break through the wards again, and there’s no chance I will manage to fight the soldiers guarding the stables.

Riven clenches his teeth and sucks in a sharp breath in response.But the rest of him makes no move to fight me. I know he could if he wanted to. And that he would probably win—new magic in my veins or not. I don’t allow myself to even think what it would do to me if Riven hurt me.

But he just looks like I’ve slapped him awake.

“An escape,” I remind him. “A hidden pathway.Anything.”

“I’m afraid there isn’t,” Riven says quietly, those startling eyes somber behind his thick, long lashes.

Panic grabs me by the throat. “Are you sure?” I ask with all the menace I can muster.

“As sure as I can be.” Riven takes a step backward, but I hold the blade steady.

We move like that through the room until he sinks onto the edge of a low, velvet daybed, and I stand before him, the blade still at his throat.

“Don’t fuck with me,” I warn. “Or I might slice your throat.”

“What a tempting challenge,” he has the nerve to counter.

“I’m dead serious,” I snarl.

He looks up at me before leaning back against the cushions, closing his eyes. He says, words full of self-mockery, “Do it, if you feel like spilling a little blue blood tonight.”

That’s all.

“You’re drunk,” I hiss.

“Oh yes, indeed, my beautiful darling,” he replies, his violet eyes on me.

“What is the best way out?”

He stays silent. I realize the reason he doesn’t answer is that he can’t lie and that he doesn’t want to tell me the truth. I lean forward and bring the blade to his throat once again, angling it so the sharp point bites into his skin, drawing blood.

“Tell me, Riven.”

“Or what?” To my horror, he grabs my wrist too fast and leans in.

He’s caught me. And I let him, forgetting about his speed. I’m a fucking fool.

My chest closes in on my stupid heart, my lungs; my thoughts running wild.

As if Riven can read every single one of them, he lets go of me.

“You… let me go,” I breathe, not trusting it.

“As you said, I must be drunk,” he replies nonchalantly.

The way he looks at me shocks me into silence though. I can’t stand it, can’t stand that he can read my terror, smell it, sense it.

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