Quicksilver (Fae & Alchemy, #1)

by Callie Hart

“Please, Brother! Don’t send me back there. I’ll die if you do. My whole family has the rattles.” I coughed for effect—a dry hack that sounded nothing like the wet, congested cough of the almost dead. But the guardian had probably never even seen someone with the rattles before.

This gauntlet was more than a piece of stolen armor. It was my brother’s education. Three years’ worth of food. Tickets out of Zilvaren, south, to where the reckoning winds that buffeted the dry-boned hills were twenty degrees cooler than here in the Silver City. We’d have enough money left over to buy a small house if we wanted to. Nothing fancy. Just something weatherproof. Something I could leave to Hayden when, not if, the guardians finally caught up with me.

The richest of the queen's people had continued to throw lavish parties, had dined on exotic imports sourced from pastures well beyond Haeland, had drunk their fill of expensive rare wines and whiskeys, and all the while the people of Zilvaren had starved in the streets or shit themselves to death.

It did mean something. Sometimes, objects shook around me. Objects made of iron, tin, or gold. Once, I’d been able to move one of Elroy’s daggers without touching it so that it had spun around and around on my mother’s dining table, balancing on its cross guard.

Kala's, as it was known by most, was one of the only places in the ward that would trade food and drink for goods instead of money. A chancer with empty pockets and an empty belly could also gamble for goods with some of the tavern's more disreputable types if they were brave or stupid enough.

Carrion Swift: the most notorious gambler, cheat, and smuggler in the entire city. He was also uncommonly good in bed—the only man in Zilvaren who'd ever made me scream his name out of pleasure rather than frustration. His bright auburn hair was a signal flare in the dimly lit tavern.

“You say our ward's locked down so tight because we're quarantined. You say we're afflicted with a sickness. That we're contagious. But we aren't, Captain. We're being slowly and methodically poisoned because we don't matter. Because we ask questions. Because we say no. Because Madra sees us as a burden on the city. She feeds us foul, dirty water, and we die in droves because of it. Meanwhile, you and yours turn the handle,

and fresh, clean water flows into your canisters. No one standing over you, looking over your shoulder, beating you and telling you enough. Have you ever asked yourself why—”

The banished Fae can't return so long as all remains the same here, you see. I knew nothing would have changed, but I do have a nasty habit of letting paranoia get the better of me.”

Terror claimed the captain. He cast about, wild-eyed, breathing heavily, as the thin streams of metallic liquid that had once been his weapon rolled toward him, pooling and diverging, as if it were seeking him. As if it were alive.

“Obsidian. Ob—obsidian!” exclaimed Harron. “Broken. Everywhere, everywhere, everywhere. Down in the ground. In the passageways. In the walls. They move. In the ground. I can't...it won't die! It has to!” he screamed.

The Fae were warmongers. Cannibals. Beastly creatures with no temperance, sense of morality, nor any notion of mercy. The eldest Immortals visited their wrath upon the land with an iron fist, leaving a path of chaos and destruction in their wake. The seven cities rejoiced when— “It's upset you. My appearance,” Everlayne said quietly. She placed her hands in her lap, all of her effervescence quickly fallen flat. “You've heard of my kind?” she asked.

“Renfis! What in all five hells! You nearly gave me a heart attack.” Chagrinned, he hung his head. And there they were: another set of pointed ears. This time, they were tipped red with embarrassment. “Layne,” the male said. His voice was lightly accented, the words lilting, though made harsh by his deep register. “Sorry. I didn't know you were in here.” “Clearly. You nearly ripped the damned door off its hinges. It’s polite to knock before you hurl yourself into a room.”

“He’s struggling,” the warrior said awkwardly. “He shouldn't have been without it at all. It gets worse every time he takes it off. If your father finds out he's even here—”

“The situation at Cahlish is grave. Our men die in droves every day. The beasts that patrol the enemy's borders range further afield, claiming our sentries and outposts. Supply routes are closed to us. We're surviving on what we can hunt

and gather. Within six months, the war will be over, and Yvelia will find itself on the wrong side of victory. So yes, Your Highness. I'm doing what you commanded of me. You told me to win the war by any means necessary, so I came to claim the only tool that’ll win us back our advantage. I came for him.” Belikon let out a bark of stunned laughter. He pointed down at Kingfisher's twitching form. “This? You came here for this? You're telling me that this traitorous, lying, ravening dog is the only thing standing between us and complete annihilation? You're as mad as he is, General.”

“Oh, well. We've been at war with Sanasroth for longer than I've been alive.

“Shh!” Everlayne flinched. “We don't know what she is just yet. Kingfisher felt Solace calling, and he answered. He found it in Saeris's hands.” His lips parted slightly. “She was holding Solace?”

You have the distinct pleasure of being the only living human in all of Yvelia. You are not safe here.”

“There

was a time when this place teemed wit...

“Our ancestors were cursed millennia ago. As a result, we ended up with these,” he said, gesturing to his canines. “We used them to drink your kind dry. We drained you by the million before the blood curse was lifted. This was long before our time, of course, but the Fae line still bears the marks of its past. We might not need blood to maintain our immortality anymore, but by the gods, do we still have the teeth for it. Our dirty little secret. Our awful, horrible shame—”

“You’re my brother,” Everlayne hissed. “Though I sometimes wish you weren't!”

“Why are you calling me that? Oshellith?” I snapped. “What does it mean?” He'd turned around. Was walking away. I listened to his boots striking the cold stone beneath his feet, each step ringing in my ears. “An Oshellith is a type of butterfly,” he called as he went. “Osha for short. They hatch, live, and die all in one day. The cold kills them very fast. Isn’t that right, Renfis?”

“I'm not going first. What if it's warded by, I don't know...by magic, or something?” Kingfisher waggled his fingers, his eyes going wide. “Oh no, not magic!” “Ass.” “Coward,” he volleyed back. “I knew it wasn't warded.” “How?” “Because I'm magic.”

“My mother gave me this pendant, this relic,” he clarified, “when I was eleven. The night before we left for the Winter Palace. She knew I’d have need of it. Later, when I came of age and joined Belikon's army, I was called upon to travel between Yvelia and the other realms because my pendant was one of the most powerful. To cut a very

long and boring story short, I was forced to travel a pathway without it once. The quicksilver took me, just as it takes everyone. A healer managed to draw most of it from me once I made it back to the Winter Palace, but I was left with a few...lasting reminders. Most Fae only wore their relics when they traveled from one realm to the next. But wearing mine is the only thing that calms the noise in my head. Without it, the line between what’s real and what isn’t blurs very quickly.”

“If I hadn’t given you the relic, you’d have died.” “And why didn’t you? Just let me die? You could have left me there.”

Kingfisher stilled. “Are you asking me how big my cock is, Osha?”

“It’s big enough to make you scream and then some.”

“Maybe the issue is that you asked me a question about my cock like a hungry little bitch in heat and didn't ask me something that mattered.”

“Yes.” The word came out abruptly. Defiantly. “I did.” “Why?” “Because I didn't have a choice.” I slapped my hands against the workbench, my anger a clenched iron fist in my chest. “Why?” “You're not ready for that information. You'll never be ready.” “Why?” “Because you're human, and humans are weak,” he snarled. “Because it's none of your business. Because it doesn't matter why I did it. Because no matter what reason I give to you, it won't be good enough. Now ask me something else.”

My jaw was screaming, I was clenching my teeth so hard. “Fuck—you—” “There you go again. Hungry, needy little bitch in heat, begging to be fucked...” he taunted. “Let. Go!” “LIIIIISTENNN!!”

“You like it?” he purred. “I figured some extra protection was in order this morning since you're now given to hurling yourself at me like some kind of rabid feline.” “Cats scratch,” I said flatly. “I came this close to knocking you on your ass.” “In your fucking dreams, human.”

“I've fucked plenty of humans,” he whispered. “Does that surprise you?” “Yes. Seeing as how you...seem to hate us...so much.” His mouth. Gods, his fucking mouth. I needed to look away. I had to. “I don't hate your kind. I'm just disappointed by how breakable you are. If I held you down and fucked you the way I'm imagining fucking you right now, I doubt that you’d survive it.”

“Careful,” he panted. “I swore I'd be still while you kissed me. At no point did I promise to exercise restraint if you climbed up into my lap and started grinding yourself against my cock.”

“Shadow gates are of this realm. They can only be used within this realm. Quicksilver is not of this realm. Therefore, it can be used within this realm, but also within or to other realms as well. No, no more fucking questions. We have work to do.”

“Don't. Do not, Fisher. Please. Just...” “When you were grinding yourself all over my lap, you marked me up very efficiently,” he purred. A fire burned in my throat, causing my voice to crack. “I hate you.”

“Mm. You’re right. I don’t think you will invite me. When the time comes, I think you’ll beg—”

“He said he didn't like the way you smelled?”

“Yes, and he was very rude about it. He had a bunch of sprites come in and scrub me with these stiff brushes until I was raw and pink all over. I swear they took off four layers of skin. They put this thick white

clay all over me, then, and let it sit so long that it went hard, and they had to cra...

“Good. So you're coming.” “Saeris.” “Because you wouldn't want him to command me to do something I didn't want to do again. Because you're a nice Fae warrior, unlike Fisher, who is the devil incarnate.”

Nimerelle, still has some magic, doesn’t it? The smoke and that dark energy that crackles from the blade?”

All we know is that when the god swords went silent and abandoned the rest of the Fae who carried them, Nimerelle stayed. At a cost. The blade used to shine brilliant silver. As the centuries have passed, it’s blackened and tarnished. But Nimerelle has stayed. The spirit of that sword or the magic inside it, whatever you choose to believe it is, has stayed. No matter what, it’s never left him.”

“I'd prefer not to be here, actually.” “Sit the fuck down,” I hissed.

“Oh, yes. She has no sense of timekeeping, and she has unconventional seating preferences, don't you, Human?” “I can sit there instead?” Carrion offered. “Absolutely not,” Kingfisher barked. “Try it and die.”

“If I were evil and using your oath for my own purposes, I'd order you onto your knees for me,” he said, cutting me off. “I'd order you to part your legs for me. I'd order you to suck and fuck me until you passed out from exhaustion. Is that what you want, Little Osha?”

“I don't want you, Fisher.” “You're thinking about my hands sliding up the insides of your thighs right now,” he said. “About my fingers slipping inside the wet folds of you. Working against your swollen clit, rubbing you until

you're panting and whimpering, begging for me to sink my cock into your—”