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He spoke, then, at last. Just one word. “Shit.”
“You took something of mine, girl, and I am not in the business of letting theft slide. So, I will take from you. First, your life. Then, I’ll make a column of greasy smoke out of those who matter to you, and when they're gone, I will tear the Third Ward to the ground. For the next one hundred years, anyone foolish enough to think twice about stealing from me will remember the black day Saeris Fane offended the Zilvaren crown and a hundred thousand people paid the price.”
Saeris Fane was twenty-four years of age when she died. Honestly, she should have died a lot sooner, but the girl never did know when to give up. My epitaph would be short and sweet.
I lay in the darkness and shivered, wishing that she would fuck off. I didn't want to be haunted by these ghosts.
“You're being dramatic,” Everlayne said, giving me an arch look. “There are fires in every grate. And even if there weren't, the palace is kept at a steady, comfortable temperature at all times.” “How?” It wasn't that I didn't believe her. But, well...I didn't. I could still see my breath clouding in the air.
Beside me, Everlayne whispered under her breath. Was she actually praying?
“I don't care about Yvelian history. I don't give a shit about etiquette, either.” “Clearly,” Rusarius sputtered.
Not to mention the fact that there are still rumors floating around that the Daianthus heir is in Zilvaren somewhere.
The three Fae were passing one of the many sets of alcoves occupied by statues of the gods. Everlayne bowed and touched her head to them as she hurried by. Ren grumbled, giving them a cursory nod. Kingfisher stuck out a hand and flipped all seven of them off as he stormed by.
“Your personality is trash.”
And then I punched him square in the mouth.
“That your body is betraying you in other ways. That I can smell you, Little Osha, and I'm thinking about drinking the sweet nectar you're making for me straight from the fucking cup.”
I didn't care to push the matter further. I felt too sick to talk. And who cared where Kingfisher had been? He could have spent the past century trapped inside one of those trees in The Wicker Wood for all the difference it made. There was no excuse for the way he was treating me. None that I would accept.
I slammed down my spoon. “You're incorrigible!” “I don't know what that means.” “Yes, you fucking do!” “All right. I do. What's your point?”
“Fisher—” He shook his head emphatically, his eyes begging me not to speak. Quickly, he took hold of my hand and placed it onto his chest, right in the center. Thum, thum, thum, thum, thum, thum....
“We have a fucking Alchemist?” “She's mine,” Fisher said.
“When you take all of me, remember to breathe.”
“Perfect. You're absolutely fucking perfect. If Danya does rip my head off tomorrow, at least now I'll die happy.”
“Oh?” Archer looked confused. “In that case, do you need to see a healer? Are you hurt? It sounded like—”
“Because she is moonlight. The mist that shrouds the mountains. The bite of electricity in the air before a storm. The smoke that rolls across a battlefield before the killing starts. You have no idea what she is. What she could be. You should call her Majesty.”
“Uhh, that's not the kind of thing we talk about in taverns, actually,”
How to explain the feeling of a male like Kingfisher breathing heavily into your ear.
Every warrior in Innìr will smell me on you, Fisher's voice rumbled in my mind. I'm going to make you hoarse from screaming my fucking name. I'm going to mark you in every way imaginable, so that everyone knows you're fucking mine.
“Is this the kind of thing you imagine me wearing often?” “When I imagine you, Little Osha, you're very rarely wearing clothes.”
“Tricksy,” Carrion muttered again, stirring the contents of the pot bubbling over the fire.
non-plussed
“Don't you dare die on my watch, Saeris Fane! Fisher will never forgive me if his sole reason for living is torn to pieces on her first fucking battlefield.”
“It isn't your sword anymore, Danya,” Fisher said.
He let her take it. The second her hand closed around its grip, she unleashed a blood-curdling scream, and her hand detonated into a cloud of pink mist.
“Holy fuck. Why is it so cold in here?” Carrion was carrying a sword and a potted plant under his arm, still wearing his thick coat with the coarse fur over its wide collar. “I found him up at the forge,” Lorreth said, stepping through the gate behind him. “He was still asleep.” “Hey, don't say it like that!” Swift shot him a wounded look. “We had a very long night, y'know.” “You slept through a battle,” Lorreth said. “And I'm a very heavy sleeper!”
“Did you hear that?” he said. “What?” “That smoking hot blonde said I was pretty.” “Gods alive, Carrion. Do not tell me you have a thing for Danya. She’s fucking awful.”
“All right, fine. Have it your way. At first, I didn't say it because I fucking hated you,” he said. “Hated what you represented.” My blood was cold as ice in my veins, but I had to hear it. “And what was that?” “Weakness. Vulnerability.” “I am not weak, Fisher! I’m not like those butterflies, pathetic, hatching and dying in the cold—” “Not you! Me!” He thumped himself in his chest, suddenly furious. “My weakness! My vulnerability! I've known for centuries that you were coming. That you were just going to show up one day and change everything. You're the chink in my armor, Saeris. The soft
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The beautiful scent of wild mint made me want to burst into tears, but I managed to stay calm as I folded the duvet and fluffed the imprint of my body out of the couch cushions. I wanted nothing more than to walk away without interacting with Fisher at all, but he caught my hand as I passed him, and I didn't have the energy or the will to pull away. He rested his forehead against my arm, closing his eyes, and a tiny piece of me cracked and broke. I ran my free hand gently through his hair, screaming inside, so fucking angry at him, and at myself, and at the gods, and the whole fucking universe
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“I'm in love with you, Saeris Fane,” he whispered quietly into my hair. “And I'm already half-mad, anyway. What's a little complicated thrown into the mix?”
I have hope that they return to the same place when it ends.
There, sitting in the center of the dais, was Malcolm.

