Page 42 of Kingdom of the Two Moons

I look around, wide-eyed. Everything is dipped in a soft light from backlit alabaster plates that stretch from the ground up to a ceiling so high I can’t see the apex.

Despite the horrors of that dungeon, I can’t help but marvel at the design. I have no idea what I expected, but more likely amedieval castle matching the underground prison than…this. Definitely nothing so modern. So… tasteful.

It looks like a designer complex, where an architect was allowed to live his dream, and money was clearly no issue.

Nidaw leads me down the hallway and pauses in front of a huge, beautifully carved double-winged door made of some dark wood I have never seen before.

There is the metal head of a creature, half lion, half dragon, adorned with curled horns, embedded in the wall next to it.

When Nidaw steps closer to it and says, “I am here to bring Lady Melody on behalf of the High Lord of Darkness,” its dark eyes sparkle blue with sudden life.

It answers, “Be welcome, Nidaw. And you too, Melody.”

I stare at the head, which has gone back to slumber, no sign that it had just spoken, its eyes two holes again.

Nidaw takes me by the arm. “Come now, girl,” she says gently, ushering me into a vast hall, the ceiling a gold-painted dome.

The floor here is forest-green marble, polished to perfection. Embedded in the middle is a huge rectangular pool, several steps leading down into steaming, perfumed water. Candles burn in every corner, providing light, but at the same time offering more privacy than lamps would have.

Before I can take everything in, four more women who look similar to Nidaw have stepped up to me and started to roll my loop dress down my body. I try to wriggle out of their reach.

Nidaw mutters something like, “Human modesty,” before she looks straight at me with those serious riverstone eyes. “You will get fresh clothes, girl. But first, youneeda bath.”

The way she says it makes me self-conscious all over. The servants’ long fingers with sharp, dark nails start to tug at the fabric again, impatiently now. But this time, I don’t resist. I must look bad.

I let them undress me, too exhausted to argue, although there is something unnerving about being the only naked person in the room. I let them guide me toward the bath and down the steps intothe hot water. They enter with me, still in their tunics, which they have knotted around their very slim bodies. They start to scrub me and wash my hair with lavender and golden soap. I let it all happen, I’m too tired to do otherwise.

I let them lead me out again when they deem me clean enough, wrap me into a towel, and eventually guide me over to a marble table with a mirror where Nidaw already awaits me, perched on a velvet stool.

Those bony fingers push me down onto the stool next to hers, and she starts to detangle the mess of my hair with a golden comb shaped like a swan.

I meet her pale eyes in the mirror. “Where are we?”

“In the Twilight Kingdom,” she answers tersely.

“No. I mean—where is it?”

Nidaw pauses, looking me up and down as if to size me up. “You are from the human world.” She grimaces a little at the wordhuman, as if it is an insult.

I nod, but Nidaw keeps looking at me in that strange way before she resumes brushing my hair.

“How long was I asleep?” It’s bothering me, not knowing what day it is and how long I’ve beenaway. More than I let on.

Nidaw just chuckles lightly, an unfamiliar sound, like the hum of bees, before she says, “An hour, maybe two. Not long, don’t worry. It’s the magic that makes you so tired.”

“Magic?”

Nidaw laughs again at my incredulous tone, as if I made a joke. “You don’t have magic in the human world, I forget that. Magic is everywhere here. It’s just another form of energy. The human world has no magic, and we can’t use magic in the human world except if we bind it to objects. But here, everything is held together by magic.”

I look at Nidaw’s long, claw-like nails, and at the beautiful but strange color of her skin. Her pointed ears are shaped slightly differently than Riven’s, I notice. Hers are pointed too, but have one more curve instead of a straight arch, which makes them look almost like the spiraled silhouettes of beautiful seashells.

“Can youperformmagic? Like a witch?”

Nidaw shakes her head once. “No. I am only a river siren. We can just ask nature for magic, or plea to magic itself for help. But the high elves and the witches can.”

“Are you also… a slave?” I dare to ask the question.

Nidaw angles her head at this but doesn’t meet my eyes. “I am a servant, not a slave,” she states eventually, but not unkindly.

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