Page 98 of Kingdom of the Two Moons

Riven can’t help but notice the flicker in Caryan’s eyes as he feels Riven’s emotions. He doesn’t know how Caryan interprets them. All Riven can do is choke those feelings further and let them fade slowly, the way he’s trained for two centuries. Only because of that training, it works.

Another deep breath and Riven is calm again. Caryan shifts too. Gone is the half-feral angel from moments ago, replaced by the ice-cold king Riven knows so well. The king the world has learned to fear. The king who, even when he looks civilized on the outside, is much more dangerous than the creature of pure instinct he was just moments before.

We have a traitor in our rows, Caryan says, again silently over the bond so Melody won’t hear.I’m going to seal the Fortress. I’m going to find him. Meanwhile, I need you to stay with her and protect her. With your life.

“I will,” Riven says out loud because the mind-speaking works only one way.

Caryan’s eyes rest on him a second longer, as if he, too, wonders about how easily that vow passed Riven’s lips.

Then darkness ripples and he is gone.

Riven’s eyes finally drift to Melody, who’s been watching them vigilantly. His inner turmoil soars anew as he takes her in. She looks more vulnerable than ever. Her brown eyes are still wide with shock, her throat healed but smeared with blood. Her heartbeat is feverish, the air filled with fear and fury.

Those haunted eyes glide to him, then she runs into his arms and starts to cry.

Riven lifts her and carries her over to the bed, holding her until her tears subside and her body finally stops shaking. Eventually, she sits up. He gently brushes a strand of blood-crusted hair out of herface. She’s still paler than he remembers her and dark rings rim her beautiful eyes.

“What happened?” he asks, more gently than he’s ever been with anyone.

“There were two men in the room. They had wings and claws. I don’t know… I fought them and, suddenly, Caryan was here, but—they crumbled to dust before he could kill them.” Her voice breaks off and she frowns. “Caryan, he…” She shakes her head. “Nefarians… is that was those men were?”

“Yes.”

“They were… frightening,” she whispers.

Riven makes himself say, “They are.”

Melody slides off his lap and stands. Her eyes, still restless, probe the room as if she expects them to return any moment.

Then she states quietly, “I’d like to take a shower,” before she slips into the bathroom and closes the door behind her.

***

Riven lies sprawled on her bed, the sketch of him with purple eyes in his hands, when she returns. She’s shockingly talented, the way she caught his and Caryan’s faces. He already glimpsed her talent in the paintings in her room at Lyrian’s house and was fascinated then. He’d seen a lot of the most talented artists at the court in Palisandre. But these aremore. As if these sketches are alive, his own, violet eyes terrifyingly real, looking back at him like a mirror.

“You’re very talented,” he says, lowering the sketch to look at her fully.

Melody just stares at him, wrapping her towel tighter around herself, her eyes still glistening with vigilance. And shame, as she realizes what he’s holding in his hand.

“I didn’t plan for you to ever see that,” she snaps.

“But I did. And I fascinated you enough that you drew me,” he adds with an aloof smile that sends her glowering at him. Good. Anger is better than fear.

But then she turns her head, biting down on her full lip. To his surprise, she says, “It’s just—I’d love to paint you, not just draw you.”

“Oh, yes, your colors dried out, I saw. We can take care of that. One word to Caryan and—”

“No. No word to Caryan,” she says, swiveling to him, then she walks over and tries to snatch the sketches from his hand.

He pulls them away too quickly and chuckles quietly when she almost stumbles over him onto the bed.

She pulls herself up onto her elbows before slumping down again and propping her head on her hands. But her face stays stern and her voice is almost a plea when she repeats, “Please, not Caryan.”

“You don’t want him to know that you drew him too,” Riven muses. She’d drawn Caryan, several times actually. Riven wonders why.

He’s still trying to figure her out. She and herrelationshipwith Caryan, if he can call it such. But the way she drew Caryan, it touched Riven. Some of the sketches are of his profile, or just studies of his lips, or ears, how his hair curls around them. Others, though, they show him in private moments, when he wasn’t aware anyone was watching, with his eyes closed, his throat exposed. They’re almost… intimate.

And Caryan, on the other hand—

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