Page 77 of Kingdom of the Two Moons

Nidaw’s hands pause at my neck. “And so are you, Melody. Look in the mirror. You look just like your mother.”

My mother?

“You knew my mother?” I ask, suddenly breathless.

Nidaw gives me a warm smile. “I did. She was an outstanding beauty, and you take after her. When I first saw you, I briefly mistook you for her.”

I don’t know what to say.

“Was she human?” I barely dare to ask the question, not sure I can stand the answer after what Nidaw told me about humans who came to this world.

“No. She was an elf. A daughter of Evander,” Nidaw says, as if this should mean something to me.

“Wait—”

More questions suddenly burn on my tongue, but Nidaw’s already striding away. The two servants hold me back, their nails sharp as they sink into my skin when I try to wrench free, leaving half-moon marks in my skin.

I relent, my heart pounding fast as the sirens help me into the same dress I wore yesterday.

Eventually, I make my way back to the kitchen, more lost in thought than ever.

More lost than ever.

23

Melody

The evening unfolds like the previous one. A lot of wine, syrupy delicacies and glasses garnished with pink cricket salt. The crowd is too beautiful to be real. Too beautiful for me to ever become used to.

I glide among more lithe, painted bodies and elaborate dresses stitched with fantastic motifs, not daring to look toward the lounge where Caryan and the other high lords were sitting last night.

It’s only when we serve the dinner course—rabbits stuffed with dates and hazelnuts and some other things I can’t name but which Chef sneaked me—that I glance over, only to find Caryan is not here.

My heart skips a beat.

Will he come? Does it matter?

Instinctively, I find myself reaching out to search for his power, trying tosenseit. A strange part of me is relieved when I feel him close. As if knowing he’s close calms me.What the hell is wrong with me?

I shake my head as if to clear it, grabbing another tray that comes straight out of the kitchen before I head in for another round. I’m tired from the long days and lack of sleep, too tired to spot the man in front of me—Kyrith’s blond, shoulder-length hair, and angular face. Too busy looking at the ground again for feet and petals or other things that have found their way on the floor.

I bump right into him, like yesterday. The tray in my hand comes loose and hits the floor. Glasses shatter and everything is awash with shards and spilled liquid.

His hand slaps me so hard I feel my lip burst. I taste blood in my mouth. I fall to my knees. Bracing myself with my hands, splinters plunge into my skin. I swear, grinding my teeth against the pain, my head dizzy, still catching up.

“You spilled wine on me, you useless whore,” Kyrith growls at me. He grabs for my hair.

Before I know what I’m doing, before I realize my own, newly won speed, I’ve drawn the dagger that dangled from the hilt on his belt and sliced down his forearm in a neat cut.

Blood spills as he pulls his arm back. I slide backwards, away from him over the floor. The crowd parts, gaping, making room for me… and him. My heart lodges in my throat as I take in his hateful gaze, transfixed on me.

I’ve to fight my way out of here. Or die trying.

My hand curls around the dagger as he comes for me. I throw it and it lodges in his shoulder. He flinches but doesn’t stop, rage flaring in his eyes.

I’m dead. I know it when he growls, “You!”

A moment later, something barrels into him, driving Kyrith into the wall at the very far end of the ballroom. The stone cracks and fractures as his body collides with the stone.

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