Page 67 of Kingdom of the Two Moons

“No, you didn’t. Now go to bed,” he replies, even more coldly, as if he can’t get rid of me fast enough. As if I’d doneeverythingwrong.Again.

Then he raises his head and says to no one in particular, “Get me a real woman.”

I scramble off him and away, my face burning hot with shame and fear and a swirl of emotions I can’t name. I don’t dare to look at anyone, not even at Riven, as I turn away. I try hard not to run through the crowd before I finally slink into the seclusion of the kitchen, the feeling of his hands around my wrists lingering like molten metal. Tears are streaming down my face even before I reach the deceptive security of my chambers.

Get me a real woman.

His words burn into my mind, echoing over and over.

I don’t know why it matters so much. I should be grateful for having been dismissed.

But when I curl up on my side, watching the eerie blood moon, all I can think about is the feeling of Caryan’s skin under my lips, of his scent all around me, of his hands around my wrists, on my thighs.

Get me a real woman.

I bury my face in my hands and cry until darkness and sleep claim me.

20

Riven

Riven watches the whole scene, his teeth clenched so hard they hurt as Melody cowers on the floor in front of Caryan, scented with fear, her whole body shaking so violently she tries hard not to spill any of the elderberry wine as she pours it into glasses.

Something strangely possessive stirs in him. Along with it, the daemonic power slumbering in his veins opens its eyes.

It takes all his willpower not to get up and shove Kyrith’s face into the wall. Not to release a gust of shadowfire on him. Just because it isn’t his call to make, but Caryan’s. Yet, as that brazen bastard Kyrith has the nerve to bend down to her and touch her hair… it takes all of Riven’s self-control not to incinerate Kyrith with half a thought.

He doesn’t allow himself to dwell on this. He’s never been protective before, not in the way that keeping her safe feels more instinctive and not even remotely like a rational decision.

Last night, when she stood before him, looking at him with those eyes, wrapped only in a towel… when he almost kissed her neck…

He digs his fingernails so deep into the armrest his knuckles turn white, long, black talons threatening to take form.

Relief floods him as Caryan eventually puts Kyrith on the leash, chaining him through the invisible bond between them. A brutalyank in their very bones only they can feel, followed by an unmistakable rumble of power in Caryan’s growl that washes over the whole ballroom. A deadly, night-kissed flood that makes everyone draw in a sharp breath.

Kyrith chooses to ignore both.Stupid bastard.

Riven tries not to chuckle when Caryan shatters his hand and Kyrith bleats like a lamb.

But what follows afterward makes Riven’s throat dry out. Caryan doesn’t let her go. No. He orders her to step closer.

To crawl onto his lap. The words he whispers to her make the hair in Riven’s neck stand up.

Amuse me.

Melody shakes even harder, the smell of fear so clear it is palpable. Riven barely feels the touch of the woman above him, no matter how hard her lips and tongue and skilled hands try to steer his attention away from them and back to her.

He can’t block out what’s happening right in front of his eyes. Can’t block out Melody’s feverish heartbeat, or her smell.

Why is Caryan doing this? Riven knows he’s grandstanding—to show everyone here that Ciellara’s daughter is his slave and that he can—and will—make her serve in his bedroom if he wants to. A part of Riven understands the message it carries to the outside world—to show his people that the daughter of the woman who almost killed him is his property now.

That those days are over, once and for all.

But she is still a child. Traumatized by Lyrian, who did gods know what to her.

But he can’t stop it, can’t speak out against it. All he can do is watch.

It’s a new kind of torture.

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