3
Not What I Came For
Riven
Icy wind whips at my ink-black hair and long, matching coat, though the sun still burns from the sky, accentuating the sharp, high-rising towers of Avander—Caryan’s harbor town—to my right.
The ivory city is rimmed by two rows of mighty walls, the watchtower, with its ever-burning fire pit, rising high from the center.
In front of me, in the distance, huge ships lie anchored in the floods, their silvery sails billowing in the storm.
Upon them, two moons, one white and one gleaming red, with black, angelic wings spread across their canvas. Caryan’s fleet, bearing his signet.
The signet of the Kingdom of the Two Moons.
I bare my teeth against another freezing gust. The weather has changed recently, no doubt adapting to Caryan’s current mood—deadly, arctic, and cutting—as I look out over the surreal landscape, the infinite white desert directly meeting the waltzing, churning ocean.
Yesterday I spoke to some fishermen, who told me they had seen what looked like an attack when they sailed far out to catch the big swarms of tuna, almost beyond the fae gap, at the border of Caryan’s ward-wall that protects his kingdom.
Something vast swept over them, blackening the stars with a cloud of wings before the sky erupted with demonic fire.
Lilac-colored magic. The same shade as my eyes—a heritage of my bloodline. A light twin to the dark magic that flows through my veins. Shadowfire. Courtesy of my half-Nefarian blood. Rare, devastating magic, and mine only because I am one of the few, rare half-breeds. Half-high fae, half-demon.
Half-breeds like Melody are known either to fail at magic entirely or to surpass everyone, developing strange, unique talents. She clearly belongs to the latter, as do I—since she broke through Caryan’s wards as easily as walking through a spiderweb.
I watch the ocean again, white sea foam flying as the wind lashes the waves.
I grit my teeth. Caryan and I still haven’t exchanged more words than necessary since we left the oracle two nights ago. My ribs have healed from the punch he dealt me, but the other pain…it lingers.
Melody is Caryan’s mate.
I pinch my temples, trying in vain to ease the pressure there.
Mates. The strongest bond that exists for fae. But how? Angels have no mates. And I—
I can’t finish the thought.
Abyss, I wouldn’t believe it for a second if I hadn’t heard Kalleandara herself say it in that cave at the end of the world.
I take a deep breath, open my hand, and watch the golden coin fall from my palm into the azure depths.
A moment later, a melodious female voice rises. “Are you here to sing your sorrows to the sea, my handsome lord?”
I glance down and see her, heartbreakingly beautiful, coral hair dancing in the waves like living fire. A mermaid, propped on a boulder, studying me curiously with too-large teal eyes. Delicate gills grace her cheeks, and her ears curl like shells.
“Would it help?” I ask darkly.
She dips her head in acknowledgment, recognizing me, then says, “I could take you down and show you a better life, you know.”
That alluring look—the one that once drove countless men to their deaths when the mer still haunted the human world—she gives it to me now. Fae men still fall for it too, warnings or no.
“Would you—show me,” I say dryly. Not a question. Fae cannot lie; it’s always about wording.
Her shy smile widens, revealing an even row of small, sharklike teeth. “I would make sure you are unharmed, my prince.”
“I bet you would.”
“You don’t trust me, stranger, and yet I speak the truth.”
“We can’t breathe underwater,” I retort, as though she needs reminding.
She chuckles. I’m not sure whether she means to kill me or truly would keep her word, when she says, “I won’t harm you, violet-eyed stranger. I have never seen a man more beautiful than you. It would be a waste to take your life. I would rather have you spend it with me.”
“I’m afraid that’s not what I am here for,” I reply, adjusting the lapels of my jacket.
At that moment, a bristling whirl of blackest night appears beside me. Caryan steps out of the vortex. The mermaid’s already large eyes widen further at the sight of the immortal Dark Lord. I bow, because etiquette demands it.
“Retracting your judgment?” I ask, a reminder to her that she is expected to bow as well. Caryan is not the kind of king to overlook impudence, and I have no taste for more bloodshed today.
But she seems too afraid to hear me, drawing back as if she fears Caryan might leap forward and grab her by the throat.
Strange. Unusual. The mer have their own kingdom, their own queen, and usually show little respect for the fae of the walking lands—immortal kings or not.
Water, after all, is still an effective barrier that even the strongest fae cannot cross freely. That she fears him…
“My lord,” I say in greeting, my eyes flicking back to her in a last warning.
At last, she remembers herself and bows, bending deep into the waves, dipping her head. “The Dark Lord,” she whispers as she surfaces again. “You summoned me. You are the one who claimed the lands on our shores and challenged our queen.” Fear trembles in every word.
Challenged her queen? It’s the first I’m hearing of this, though I school my face to indifference. Caryan hasn’t spoken to me since we left the oracle’s cave. Not one word. For two days our bond has felt like it’s dead and it’s almost killing me.
Ugly pain twists in my gut. I know that the bond to him is damaged because it hurts like a severed limb.
Abyss, this bond…. If I hadn’t loved Caryan before, the tether I chose to accept bound me to him all the tighter.
It makes me crave his closeness when days pass without him.
His hand in my hair. On my skin. And now—his silence…
It’s eating me alive.
But I must keep up appearances. To the world, I am still his right hand. So I fix my eyes on the mermaid, though every part of me longs to look at him. To mend what broke between us since he learned that I helped Melody escape the Fortress.
Caryan speaks, his voice like midnight in frozen lands. “I declared the space above the ocean mine, not what lies beneath. Tell your queen she need not feel threatened. There is nothing to fear from me.”
“Is there nothing to fear from one who cannot die, who cannot be killed?” she replies.
That tone. Caryan tilts his head, and a quiet promise of violence flickers in eyes that are meant to change their color—but no longer do. Since Melody’s disappearance, they have steadily darkened, draining into a seamless onyx—no distinction between pupil and iris anymore.
“We are here to hear what happened,” I say quickly, hoping he deems her insolence beneath his notice.
She studies him warily, the charm gone from her face, leaving only vigilance. I silently beg her to answer. Caryan will drag her ashore if she doesn’t. He has spent two sleepless nights searching for Melody. His remarkable eyes are shadowed, rimmed dark. His patience is thinner than ever.
She seems to realize this too. “Our patrols reported a dragon flying, if such a thing can be true.”
My jaw tightens. Dragons are extinct. What they saw was one of Caryan’s shapeshifting demons—a Trochetian horse, a shadow creature from the darkest hells. One that must have switched sides, helping Melody and Blair escape.
I tense, every muscle drawn tight. Abyss, when I sent Melody through the monster den, I assumed the demons were out hunting. Hells, they could have killed her.
Caryan’s face remains impassive. I give in to my craving and glance at him. He will never confirm the truth.
His voice is low. “What about the Nefarians?”
“We found…leftovers of Nefarian warriors,” she says, with a nervous glance at me.
Does she know that I am half-blood? That I can shift into my other form, with membraned wings and claws of shadow? Few knew my secret—until Niavara. Until I was forced to reveal myself to protect Melody against Nefarian assassins who slipped through Caryan’s wall, led by Shiera.
My teeth grind so hard they hurt. I made so many mistakes recently. Enough to fill an immortal lifetime. Word was bound to spread. People love to whisper about royal blood.
“Leftovers?” Caryan bares his teeth, fangs flashing.
“Victims of demonic fire. Their bodies charcoal.” She sounds almost displeased, as if the flesh were spoiled meat she’d have liked to eat.
“How many?”
“Perhaps fifty.”
Caryan lifts his chin, the only sign of reaction. His former demon—the Trochetian horse—must have done this. Incinerated them.
“Nothing else?” Caryan asks. Like a witch. A demon. A half-human girl?
I hold my breath, waiting for her answer.
“Else, my lord?” she asks, confused.
Shadows twine from Caryan, curling down his shoulders, toward her. She freezes, her heartbeat hammering in my ears while she is torn between her instinct to flee and the knowledge that if she does, those shadows will kill her for sure.
“Nefarian steel, if that is what you seek. We secured it,” she breathes, eyes locked on Caryan’s unholy magic, which is wavering in a cloud of deadly tongues.
“Tell your queen to hand the steel over,” Caryan says, the shadows suspended mid-way before they can lick her flesh.
“I can’t…” she whispers.
Caryan cuts her off. “You can, if you want to leave here alive.”
She flinches. I can smell her fear.
“The Dark Lord does not know how she would react if such a thing left my lips.” The mermaid trembles. The mer queen is cruel. But so is Caryan. Pity stirs in me despite myself.
“Believe me, you do not want to know what I would do if I do not get that steel,” Caryan says flatly.
The shadows slither forward, dipping into the water, nearly touching her bluish skin.
I stare. Caryan’s magic crossing into water? Impossible. When did he breach that barrier? Secrets. Caryan is keeping too many secrets. Even from me.
“I—I will do as you ask, my lord,” she stammers.
In a heartbeat, his magic vanishes like smoke. “Send your queen my thanks. You may leave.”
She bows again, then flicks her tail and is gone.
I want to speak. To ask. But Caryan only looks at me once before darkness envelops him, and he is gone.