Page 79 of Kingdom of the Two Moons

I hate it. Hate to be locked away day in, day out.

More useless tears stream down my cheeks unasked, until I wipe them away. Crying has never helped me, has only ever made things worse, so I try to guide my attention toward my surroundings to take my mind off the inevitable.

At least this isn’t a cell, it isn’t the dungeon.Not yet,my inner voice snaps, but I shut it down.

Touch nothing.This means that there must be something around worth touching.

I slowly walk up to the bar, looking closer at the shimmering liquids held by the bottles. If I drink something, will it numb me? Numb me enough to make it easier to handle the pain?

But I don’t dare to reach out for one of the decanters. Instead, I stride toward the double-winged door to the left. It swings open.

“I assume my master’s lady likes to read, so enter,” another ornamental head, twin of the one embedded in the wall outside says, the same bluish flame dancing in his eyes.

It takes me a moment to respond, to snap out of the surprise. “Thank you. How did you know?” I ask, and the door chuckles. It actuallychuckles.

“As I said to Lord Ronin before—I’m rarely mistaken.”

I nod, whispering another thank you as I enter a room similar in dimension to the first, with the same wide front, only with bookshelves stretching from bottom to top. The three walls are filled with the colorful spines of books, indirectly illuminated by a warm light that seems to gleam somewhere behind them.

I step closer, carefully touching the back of a book so old I’m afraid it will fall apart in my hand. But the strangewords on its back seem to burn from within in a dampened, eerie green, in a type of writing I’ve never seen before, turning brighter at my touch. As if the book’s calling me, impatient to be opened.

“The section in your language is down the room. There’s even some literature from the human world.” A voice behind me, so close, though I heard no one coming.

I swivel around, only to find Caryan standing in the doorway, his eyes red and scary. He, like Ronin, isn’t dressed in celebratory attire but all in black. Battle gear, I think, though I spot no weapons on him—this is all I glean before I lower my head.

Maybe you don’t need a weapon when you are one yourself.

He steps into the room, and I feel the already familiar pulsing of his power as if it’s reaching out to me, running up my body. In response, my blood rushes in my ears. I sling my arms around myself again.

Caryan pauses next to me, and it’s all I can do not to run, not to retreat even a step when he reaches out and takes the book I was drawn to off the shelf.

It seems to nestle into his hand, as if it likes his touch, before it falls open and reveals pages with more of those signs and symbols that gleam blue in the light.

“Some of them can be dangerous for the wrong person to touch,” he says.

I try to find my words while his power brushes against my skin once again, even stronger than before because of his proximity. It’s dark, coming off him in a wavy black mist. But what had been a storm full of black lightning before has ebbed to something gentle and velvety that wraps around me now. Soft like the night, longing for the silvery light of the moon and the stars.

I study the symbols, trying to focus on them instead of on his scent which engulfs me—the invisible twin to his magic. Something in me flares up then. A strange kind of… recognition, as if—as if I could decipher this text if I spent a little more time with the book.

“Those are runes. Old runes. One of the elder languages,” I say, surprising myself with the knowledge.Woah.Where did that come from?

But the book starts to wave its pages at my words, like a bird flapping its wings. Caryan stretches out his hand for me to hold it.

I glance up at his black eyes, his irises still red but waiting, and I gently take the book from him, placing it on my open palm. The book ruffles its pages one more time as if satisfied before nestling against my skin like it did with him. I can’t help but reach out with my other hand to gently stroke its back like I wanted to before.

“What—what does that mean? That they’re dangerous for the wrong person?” I whisper, still watching the book.

“Some of them like you, some don’t. They tend to get barbaric when someone they despise touches them,” Caryan answers in a tone I can’t decipher. “But this one seems to have taken a liking to you, so keep it.”

“A present, for me?”

“It’s about silver elves. You may read it one day,” he retorts in the same ambiguous way I can’t interpret.

“Thank you,” I whisper. I don’t know what else to say. I’ve never gotten a present in my life before.

I don’t dare to look up at him again, not when he’s this close. Not when all my blood seems to hum with his very presence, his scent wrapped everywhere around us, his power brushing up against something under my skin. Instead, I look at his collarbones showing through his V-cut shirt.Stupid.

Involuntarily, my whole skin flushes with heat at the knowledge that his skin is only inches away from mine. That only yesterday, my lips had touched that very spot.

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