Page 86 of Kingdom of the Two Moons

When she looks back at the girl again, she finds her studying her face.

“You know, when I was a child, I used to summon thatphantom wyvern in a baby form and play with her. I wished she’d one day become real, so I’d have a…” Blair cuts herself off. What the hell is she doing here? Must be the mead, going to her head.

“A friend,” the girl says.

And for a second Blair finds it hard to breathe. “I still sometimes wish she was… real.”

“You could go to the Abyss, ask one of the beasts dwelling there whether it wants to be yours.”

Blair stares at her before she finds her speech again. “Going to the Abyss would be suicide. And I don’t have the power to harness a demon.” Unlike Caryan. Does the girl not see that? Does she want her to die?

But the seer just shakes her head. “I wasn’t only talking about demons. But… demons, not all of them are evil, you know. They will sometimes join someone if they want to.”

“They’re fucking lethal. That’s what they are,” Blair contradicts, horror in her voice.

The girl just drains another bowl and some color’s creeping back into her gaunt cheeks. “Aren’t we all, if we want to be?” With that, she rolls up next to Blair, placing her head on Blair’s thigh, the blonde hair spreading wide.

Blair just watches her, spellbound. Unsure.

The girl turns her head to look up with sleepy eyes before she whispers, “Nothing’s ever written in stone, Blair, not even a prophecy. It always comes down to choice. Your fates are linked, Blair. The girl’s and yours.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Speak, seer.”

“I cannot see more, because I do not know, Blair Alaric. I told you all I know. But remember, you don’t have to be the witch from the story—the one who hid her heart so it would always stay broken and finally turn into stone.” Then she turns back, her breathing becoming deep and even.

Blair just looks at her, too afraid that, if she moves, the girl will wake up. But the longer she watches, the more the seer looks likethegirl. Like Melody. Her hair is no longer light, but dark. Her face nolonger so sharp, but softer. Her body no longer so bony, but long-limbed and muscular.

She still looks that way, still asleep, wrapped in Blair’s cloak, when Blair leaves at the first gray of morning, not looking back.

26

Riven

Riven finds Kyrith slumped against the wall, his hairline encrusted with blood, his lips caked with dried crimson, his nose broken, sweat slicking his whole body. He barely looks up when the door opens and Riven steps closer to him, avoiding the puddle of dried blood.

Riven holds out a glass bottle of water. Eventually, Kyrith drags his gaze up at him, then squints at the bottle in Riven’s hand.

“Just another fucking thing Caryan took from the human world.”

“They’re good for the environment,” Riven counters with a cold grin.

“Fuck you.”

“Unlike your language, Kyrith. It seems the wordfuckis something you brought from them and seem to like quite a lot.”

Kyrith snarls but stops when exposing his fangs obviously hurts him. His healing process is being slowed down by the masses of blood Caryan drank from him.

“Came here to finally kill me, Riven, because Caryan ran out of patience with me?” he grumbles but snatches the bottle from Riven’s hand and downs it in one solid swig.

Riven regards his fingernails in the low light. “Agreed, there is no shame in a capricious murder now and again.”

“Then stop stalling. Burn me but make it quick. Not that you’druin one of your manicured nails using your hands for once,” Kyrith spits.

“Actually, I’m here because I took pity on you, but go on and I might change my mind,” Riven says, bringing his wrist to his teeth and cutting a gash before offering it to Kyrith.

Kyrith looks surprised but eventually takes the offer and starts drinking. The effect is instant—his bruises heal and every wound, every crack, every tiny cut, starts to close and is erased within seconds—this rapid healing, faster than their normal fae healing, just another gift from the curse.

“Thank you,” Kyrith grunts eventually, leaning his head back against the wall. “But why?”

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