Page 39 of Kingdom of the Two Moons

Leaving the demons behind without another glance, Caryan starts to walk up the stairs, Kyrith and Ronin trailing behind. Riven follows last, Melody still in his arms.

Once in the throne room, Caryan pauses. “Leave her in the dungeon. And put on some iron handcuffs on her.”

Riven looks down at her. She looks so pale and thin, more like a ghost. “Is that necessary?”

Caryan turns to him at that, his eyes dark and depthless. Ronin and Kyrith both pause too, watching. Ronin’s amber eyes flash in a warning. Kyrith crosses his arms, waiting.

Barely anyone ever questions anything Caryan tells them. But Riven and Caryan’s bond is different, due to their time together at Gatilla’s court.

He pushes, “She is no fae, Caryan. Neither her heart nor her body is yet fae. She has never been in touch with magic.”

“You heard me.”

“She is still soaking wet,” Riven presses.

Caryan bares his teeth at him. A warning.

Kyrith grins before both he and Ronin walk away, probably to find some company for the night.

Riven nods once. He turns on his heels and walks out in the other direction, towards the dungeons. At the end of the hall, he pauses and says very quietly, “She is no threat yet. Give her some time to adapt.”

The words are barely audible, but he knows Caryan heard them by the sound of footsteps halting on the other side of the room.

They are still facing away from each other, at a distance of at least thirty yards. The conversation no more than a murmur.

Eventually, Caryan turns. “I do not care what she is other than my slave. Do it.” At that, iron handcuffs appear around her wrists, so tight they cut into her skin.

Riven sucks in a breath. Caryan stares him down, daring him to object, but Riven carries on toward the dungeon. Dumping her wet and cold like that in that icy cell, leaving her to Caryan’s mercy—it doesn’t feel good. But he has no choice.

A command is a command. Trying to fight it would mean his death.

12

Melody

I don’t know what happens after the jump. After hitting the ice-cold water that seems to drain all life from me. After the darkness pulls me down.

All I remember is the sensation of freefall. That I am underwater, but that I am still able to breathe. That the cold is too bad to bear.

And then the darkness claims me, and I think that’s what dying must feel like.

***

My skin feels raw and feverish when I wake up, curled up into a ball, my head still numb, as if someone drugged me. And… iron handcuffs around my wrists. I jolt upright, pulling my legs up to my body while I wait for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. Where the hell am I? What did they do to me? Maybe they did drug me. Maybe theyglamouredme?

It is dark. Dim. Cold. The floor underneath me is ice-cold and biting. I get up shakily, the ground still a little unreliable as I look around.

I’m in a cellar… or some sort of dungeon. The single door is barred by huge, broad columns of steel. A cell.

I am trapped. In an iron cage. Manacled.

Locked away, again.

Reflexively, I run toward the bars. I put my fingers around them, yanking them hard as if I can somehow tear them apart, make them budge at least a tiny bit.

But nothing.Of coursenothing.

Tears stream down my cheeks. My breathing comes sharp and fast. Not again. Not again,please.

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