Page 64 of Kingdom of the Two Moons

I force myself on, concentrating solemnly on my task, and eventually, everyone turns back to dancing, conversing, or other things. Only occasionally someone still points a finger and whispers.

Times runs differently while I serve, on and on, round after round. Watery red wine that smells of cloves and lemons, powdery wine that looks like champagne. Then dove confits on a bed of bursting figs coated with maple syrup. It is only when the light dims and the strange music fades into a deeper, darker and slower rhythm, that the smell of sweat and sex is suddenly everywhere, thick and heavy. Bodies start to move rhythmically in corners, and my ears pick up the softest sighs and moans.

I hurry back behind the bar, as if the marble counter might shield me from the world. Only from there do I allow myself to take in the room, the dimly lit, meandering figures.

Ifeelsomeone looking at me.

The need to turn around and see who’s watching me is suddenly so overwhelming, as if something’s calling my very blood.

I turn. It’s not Riven’s gaze on me.

My heart stops for a few moments.

Dark, loose shirt, dark pants. Combat boots. Cruel cheekbones.

Black, callous eyes.

But it’s the hungry look in them that makes my heartbeat return faster and harder than ever.

He’s back, then.

Caryan.

He sits next to the other high lords, astonishing women by his side. Yet he’s watching me from across the room with an intensity that burns right into my innermost being. In this moment, I know that no man has ever looked at me like that before, and maybe never will again.

I feel naked.

Stripped down. Brutally.

Claimed.

Consumed.

Turned over.

Vulnerable in a way I can’t describe.

Only slowly does my sense of reality kick back in, and I look away. Closing my eyes against the already familiar undercurrent that flickers in the air, that clearly comes from his presence, and thatshould havewarned me if I’d listened.

Suddenly too restless, I need a break. I need to get away, to get out for a moment.

I disappear into the kitchen, eager to busy myself there, piling more food I’ve never seen nor tasted before on trays the cooks conjure out of thin air, until Nidaw shoos me back outside.

The night ventures on as I carry more plates, the tinge of sex and lust becoming even more oppressive. I try hard not to look at the flashing skins but at the floor ahead, where tails curl and feet and hooves threaten to block my way. People lounge on cushions and low sofas, licking golden dust from collarbones and sipping winefrom bellybuttons. I’m so absorbed in the task of blocking it all out that I almost bump into the chest of a tall man.

I don’t dare to look up, only whisper my apologies, when a familiar voice drawls, “There you are. Bring some elderberry wine and whiskey over to our table for all of us. Oh, and mix some lavender ice in one glass for the Dark Lord.”

Kyrith’s vicious voice rakes down my spine like a slick, cold tongue.

I only nod, not daring to look up or over to them, to the niche where Riven and Caryan are probably still lounging. Not daring to remember the expression with which Caryan beheld me earlier.

***

I return with what Kyrith requested, trying hard to steady my shaking fingers. I gently put the tray down on the glassy table in front of them, trying hard not to glance at Caryan, who’s sitting right in front of me. Or at the stunningly beautiful blonde woman with pistachio-colored lips next to him, staring daggers at me. Another woman with cerulean skin is straddling Riven. A breathtakingly beautiful satyr sits right next to Ronin, his hand on his bare chest, delicate fingers playing with a thin, golden chain around Ronin’s neck.

My peripheral vision picks it all up, whether I want it to or not.

It’s Kyrith’s voice that startles me once again. “Look who we’ve got here. Why don’t you get down on your knees when serving the Dark Lord?”

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