Quicksilver (Fae & Alchemy, #1)

by Callie Hart

I spun, searching for something to hurl at Kingfisher. The closest thing that came to hand was a brightly shining, beautiful set of tongs. I snatched them up and stabbed them at the dark-haired warrior. “You! We broke our backs cleaning this place! What’s wrong with you? What happened to, ‘our abilities are sacred gifts to be used for righteous purposes,’ or whatever the hell it was you said?” “Him? Righteous purposes?” Renfis stifled a cough that sounded a lot like laughter. “The male standing before you isn’t shy about using his gifts to complete mundane tasks.” I glowered at Kingfisher. “You monster.” There wasn’t a scrap of remorse to be found on the warrior’s face. He scooped up his armor and his sword, then paused beside me on his way toward the brand-new door that now hung in the doorway. “I just wanted to see if you knew what hard work was. I told you I was magic,” he whispered.

“Apologies, my lady. I came because I heard a disturbance in Master Fisher’s rooms. When I arrived here, I found Onyx whining at the door, and I decided to wait until… well, until you were finished to see if you needed anything. Intimate relations can be very strenuous.” “Oh gods, Archer, no, it’s okay, we weren’t…” I blushed hotly. The situation could only have been worse if it had been Elroy who’d caught me post-coitus. And how the hell had Onyx gotten himself shut out of the room? “Oh?” Archer looked confused. “In that case, do you need to see a healer? Are you hurt? It sounded like—” “No, no, I’m fine. Honestly, I’m fine. I… We…” I glanced back over my shoulder into the bedroom, then pulled the door half-closed behind me. “We were just moving some furniture around, that’s all. But then Fisher decided he preferred it the way it was, so… so we moved it all back again.” I scratched my head, cringing when I felt the huge snarl of hair that had gotten tangled while we’d been “moving the furniture.” Archer didn’t look convinced. He was gracious enough not to call me out on my lies, though. “I see. Well, in any case, I brought you up a pitcher of apple juice and some cake so you could replenish your energy levels. Here…” He turned and picked up a small silver tray, offering it to me.

“Don’t call her Sunshine,” he commanded. “Why not?” If Carrion’s plan was to poke the bear, then he sure as hell knew how to go about it. But Kingfisher didn’t respond to the taunting note in his question. He just cocked his head a little, nostrils flaring, and spoke in a low rumble. “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.