Page 7 of Kingdom of the Two Moons

As she said, silly but adorable. In the way pets are adorable.

Her red wine arrives, and Blair tastes it, pulling a face. Watery and already off. She downs it anyway and orders another one.

The staring only intensifies when her burgers arrive. The whole bar turns to her, the stupid game forgotten, as if to see whether a woman like her is truly able to eat this much.

Blair grins at them while she takes a hearty bite. She wolfs down the three massive portions of food in record time, before she makes a show of licking the remnants of sauce and meat off her fingers.

Then she sighs theatrically. Abyss,shelovestheir food. Pizza and instant noodles and vanilla sauce straight out of the can.

She orders one more burger before she leans back on the hard, wooden bench, thinking of how best to find Lyrian because the bastard sure as fuck won’t be running around here blurting about his whereabouts. He will be hiding like the creep he is.

At that moment, the door flies open, and a dark-haired girl strides in. Her face has the angular beauty of a mortal, but there’ssomething else there aiding her attractiveness. A delicate face, dark eyes, and full, red lips. Her skin looks dewy, but at the same time lacks the absurdly picture-perfect, smooth skin of the fae. Her long, dark hair is lush but without the oppressive mass and shine of all fae that can be suffocating. And it vies with the moon white of her skin. She’s taller than the average human, slim, athletic, dressed in all black. A leather jacket hangs on her shoulders, rustling with every movement. Black boots hug her ankles.

Blair sits up straight, her eyes following the girl through the bar. There’s something off with her. With her demeanor, the fluid way she moves.

The girl doesn’t so much as glance toward Blair as she slides onto one of the barstools at the counter, which is also odd. Blair’s sitting right in the line of sight of anyone who enters, and she is definitely something to look at.

But the denizens of the bar sure as fuck ogle the girl as much as Blair. Because something about herisodd, Blair realizes.

It’s something that sets even the humans’ underdeveloped instincts off.

Blair squints and smells the air. The effect is not a magical glamour, or Blair would feel it on her. No, this girl possesses about as much magic as a stray cat, but the same grace when she moves. Like a fae. All instinct and fluidity.

It should be enough to light up Blair’s own instincts. But it is only when the girl dips her head back and the light hits her face at a certain angle that Blair’s hackles rise.

Fuck.

How could she have not seen what is so obvious? This isthe girl.

Must be.

The half-blood. Melody.

The daughter of that haughty, murderous, silver-blooded elven princess Ciellara. The last silver elf who infiltrated Gatilla’s court. Who Blair wished someone would impale on a stick, so she wouldn’t have had to keep up with her yappery and arroganceall day long.

Sitting at the bar is her half-human daughter. Must be. They look so alike.

Blair stares at her, so focused that she barely notices the shy waitress shoving the fourth burger over to her, as if afraid her hand might make a good side to her dinner. If Blair wasn’t so distracted, she would have congratulated the waitress on her appropriate intuition. Instead, she ignores her and keeps staring at the girl like a raptor who’s spotted a mouse.

A strange-looking mouse.

This can’t be a coincidence. Witches don’t believe in chance. And the girl she’s been searching for has just walked straight to her. But then, in the middle of nowhere where you can count the people living here on one hand, it might not be so odd after all.

Eventually, Blair grabs her burger and sinks her teeth into it, savoring every bite while she keeps watching the girl. Melody sits with her legs crossed, swirling her glass of the same cheap, warm, red wine.

Blair almost laughs when she tilts the glass, drinks, and scrunches up her face just as Blair had done, apparently coming to the same conclusion. The wine tastes like shit.

The girl orders some ice and throws two cubes in it before emptying the glass to the dregs and ordering another one.

Blair takes a sip of her wine, washing the slightly tangy, rancid taste of cheddar and old meat away while at the same time liking the idea that she’s tasting the very same flavor on her lips as the girl.

Fuck. The girl she’s been hunting for a year. Combing through every city from north to south. And now she’s sitting right in front of her.

Melody glances at her phone before putting down money. She slides off the stool and walks straight toward Blair. Blair briefly thinks she will head straight for the bathroom through the door next to Blair’s table.

But when she passes Blair, the girl’s eyes meet hers—depthless, dark eyes—and she whispers, “Run. Lyrian’s coming for you.”

Then she’s through the door and gone.

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