Page 44 of Kingdom of the Two Moons

Nidaw sighs once, as if she isn’t sure she should tell me all of this. Her pale eyes flit to the window, to the glistening town below.

Then she says, very quietly, “No, I am not. But in those realms under the Dark Lord’s control—the fae who’ve been brought back to life—the curse made them wild, wilder than usual, and stronger than they were before they were reincarnated. Especially when they’re stillfreshoryoung. Those the lord reincarnated recently. They need to learn to control the curse, their new thirst for blood. They’re usually controlled by the high lords, but they’re not always around. And without them, they can be unpredictable. There is some measure of anarchy.”

“This is the curse then? The Dark Lord reincarnates the dead, and they grow fangs and have to drink blood afterward?” I ask carefully, not sure I have it right.

Nidaw nods once, her expression grave. Her eyes quickly wander to my neck, as if she can see what the Dark Lord did there. Maybe she can. Maybe the mark is still there. The skin there starts to prickle, and I resist the urge to touch it.

Nidaw nods, too quickly this time, and a little frustrated. “Yes. The Dark Lord—he is a necromancer. Some who live here and drink blood are fallen people. The Dark Lord usually finds them on the battlefield, and offers them the curse. If they accept, they are alive again, but they need to drink blood. And as I said, the high lords can control them, but still, they are not the way they were before. Not always, at least.”

Not when they’re hungry, she seems to imply.

She grabs my chin with her long-clawed fingers splayed on my cheeks. “So whatever you do, girl—never go to town at night, doyou hear me? Never! Promise me. Right now.” Her pale, washed-out eyes seem to burn themselves into mine.

“I do. I won’t. I promise,” I say a touch too quickly, remembering that Lyrian said fae can’t lie. But as I do, I wonder whether giving a promise you’re sure to break is considered a lie. And whether Nidaw knows that humanscanlie.

But it seems to placate the siren. I exhale when Nidaw lets go of my chin at last. To change the topic I ask, “So there are lesser fae and high lords?”

“No. There are lesser fae, higher fae, and high lords.”

“And… what’s the difference?” I ask carefully, not sure if it is considered rude to ask.

Nidaw squints slightly, licking her sharp teeth, but then says, “Lesser fae are all the folk with a little magic in their veins. Like me. Occasionally, there are some who are born with more magic or special talents, which makes them higher fae. And then there are high lords, the most magically gifted creatures in this world, along with the witches.”

“And who are the high lords here?”

“They’re the king’s inner circle—I assume you met them already. Lord Riven, Lord Kyrith, and Lord Ronin.” As if she’s already said too much, Nidaw turns back toward the door. She pauses after she’s taken a step, obviously struggling with herself. “Try to obey, Melody. Humans here usually don’t live long. Neither do slaves.”

It doesn’t escape me that she’s avoiding my gaze at that. Then she turns on her heel and vanishes into the night.

After that declaration, I sit on the bed at the open window and watch the blood moon and the stars for a long while, absentmindedly rubbing the bite mark on my neck. I’d looked at myself in the tiny mirror over the basin after Nidaw left. There is nothing left of it, no trace, not even a bruise.

The moon looks like it is aflame, encircled by a deep-red halo that tinges all the darkness around it in permanent semi-twilight. Despite my inner terror, I can’t help but marvel at it, can’t denyhow beautiful it is. The artist in me wants to paint it. Preserve it. I catch myself wondering when Riven will show up to return the duffle bag he was carrying for me.

He is a high lord. He has fangs, too, so maybe he’s also cursed? Nidaw doesn’t have fangs. He must be.

I look up at the other moon—my moon, the humans’ moon. How pale it looks. And peaceful in comparison. Harmless.

I shudder against all the thoughts in my mind, running wild.

The portal is the sea. The sea right in front of Lyrian’s house. Lyrian was using me to hunt down fae who crossed the gap to the human world. Lyrian himself is some sort of elf—maybe. Maybe he is something else entirely, sinceeveryonehere seems to have pointed ears. But then again, does it matter what he is other than a monster?

And I? What am I? A human and a slave. In the fae world. A slave of a vampire lord.

Part of me still believes I’m in some sort of weird dream. That I will wake up and...

find myself right back in my room, stuck with Lyrian and the bloodhounds.

No. No! Anything is better than being back with Lyrian.

Slave.

Humans here usually don’t live long. Neither do slaves.

Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’d be better off with Lyrian.

I bury my face in my hands, wondering for the thousandth time whether I’ve just gone crazy. Maybe I have, after all. For sure. But what if… not? I pinch the skin on my thigh hard, so hard it is almost unbearable. Part of me waiting to snap out of some very dark dream at last. But nothing happens.

It’s real then. Or I am mad.

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