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Light. Dark. Silver. Steel. Earth. Air. Fire. Water. That kind of thing. Alchemist stuff.”
“Well. Our runes are complicated. But yes, they do have meanings. This one,” he said, holding up his left hand, “means vengeance.” He held up his other hand. “This one means justice.”
“Sacrifice,” he said, his voice hitching.
“No, I can’t take that back,” he said stiffly. “And I’m sorry for that.”
“That’d be too simple, Carrion. I can’t just ask it to become a relic.” “Seems to me that if you can ask it to be a liquid or a solid, you could ask it to be all kinds of things,”
“And yes, you can come and watch. But only if you promise to keep your mouth shut and not get in the way.” It was physically impossible for Carrion to keep his mouth shut and not get in the way.
“And how would you have rated your confidence levels when you sized up a seven-foot-tall, full-blooded Fae warrior with hundreds of years’ worth of experience in killing things under his belt, and you thought you’d best him at knife play?”
He ran his finger along its edge, barely touching his fingertips to the steel before hissing, pulling his hand back again. “Gods, you only need to look at the damned thing and it cuts.” He popped his index finger into his mouth, sucking on it.
The song dipped and soared, telling a tragic tale of impossible odds and heroic sacrifice, nearly every line paying tribute to Kingfisher. The male next to me didn’t move a muscle, but he was hating this. His nostrils flared, hands shaking at his sides, and the song plowed on regardless.
Not Danya’s sword, the quicksilver hissed. We are reforged. New unto this place. You do not claim us, Lorreth of the Broken Spires. We claim you.
We’d kissed, and licked, and fucked each other raw. He’d emptied himself inside me, roaring as he came, but this small, intentional contact between us was the most intimate we’d ever been. I marveled at the sight of our fingers touching, an array of emotions vying for my attention.
He thought for a moment, appearing to decide whether he’d answer the question. Then he said, “I was wrong, y’know. You are a good thief.”
She is the dawn. She is the moon. She is the sky. She is oxygen in our lungs.
“We gave him his life. A boy. Just a boy. He was young when he entered our pool. He should not have survived it. But he was strong, and the grand halls of the universe rang aloud with his purpose. We permitted him to live so that he might fulfill that purpose. We bound ourselves to him that he might survive.” “And… there’s no other way? For him to live without…” “This die was cast centuries ago. We accepted our fate, Alchemist. All of us did.”
Fisher turned and held out the sword to me. “My father’s bones rest somewhere in Zilvaren. His sword spent the past millennia there, which…” He paused, considering the sword. “Which makes it more Zilvaren than Yvelian now, I think.”
“Be unrelenting and unmerciful in the face of the wicked dead,” Fisher said. Ren laid a steadying hand on my shoulder. “And if you should find soul sundered from flesh, order a drink for us at the first tavern you come across in the afterlife. We’ll settle the tab when we get there.”
And us… an excited voice whispered. Us too! And us! Solace. The blade with the crescent moon pommel was a god sword, after all. Of course it held quicksilver. And it was awake. Alive. Listening. Talking. Talking to me.
“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.”
For the first time in a thousand years, a god sword had found an Yvelian worthy and granted him magic to defend his people. I wasn’t Yvelian, and even I was knocked on my ass by the raw emotion filling the air. There weren’t fucking words…
“WELL, HE CAN’T HAVE HER!”
“You can kick and scream all you like,” he said. “But he wants the Alchemist, Fisher. If he has to burn down all of Yvelia to claim her, you know perfectly well that he’ll do it.”
Rurik Daianthus,
“It’s mine,” Danya seethed. We all saw her lunge for Avisiéth. I couldn’t have stopped her from taking such an ill-advised course of action, but Fisher, Ren, and Lorreth could have. None of them did. Some lessons had to be learned the hard way.
The second her hand closed around its grip, she unleashed a bloodcurdling scream, and her hand detonated into a cloud of pink mist.
“We don’t let things like this wait. We’re at war. There’s no guarantee any of us wake up tomorrow. We celebrate our wins as they come. And we damn well make sure our warriors know their worth.”
Giving me a very tired, very sad smile, he said, “I give you my blood in thanks, Saeris Fane.”
“That seat is reserved for the lady of the house, you stupid girl. Etiquette dictates that only Fisher’s wife is permitted to sit there. It’s a position of high honor meant for a Fae female born into one of the old houses, and you’re just sprawled out there like you own the damn seat. It’s offensive that he even lets a human sit at the same table as him. But this…” She waved at me with her remaining hand. “This is just too much. Like I said. You should move.”
“No rules have been broken, Danya. And even if they had, that wouldn’t be any of your business.”
“And?” Ren dumped everything he was carrying down onto the ground with a snarl. “She’s honorable and brave, not to mention the most powerful Alchemist ever documented. She disarmed you in half a fucking second if you recall. Who the fuck are you to say she and Fisher don’t belong together?”
“What’s with the plant?” Ren asked. Carrion shrugged. “I don’t know, I liked the look of it. It was the only green thing for a mile amongst all that white. I figured it deserved an easy life if it had made it this far growing out of a snowbank. Plus, my tent was so bare. It needed a little cheering up.”
Yes, a good secret. Very good. You want to stay. You want to save him. You must. You must.
Save the gates. Save Yvelia.
“Once upon a time, that was the case. Back when true mating bonds existed. Unions between true mates were blessed with marks from the Fates. That’s where the tradition of inking our hands originated from. But there’s no such thing as true mates anymore.
The most important couples in Yvelian history were said to have had them, but it was all romantic rubbish.
“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 spot where the knife slides in. You are the thing that Malcolm will hurt in order to hurt me, and I couldn’t… couldn’t fucking bear it!”
That’s what Oshellith means in Old Fae, Saeris. Most Sacred.”
“All names hold power in this place. Every name means something. We have true names that we don’t share with anyone. Not our friends. Not our families. Our mothers are often the only people who actually know it.
And you show up, and you have one fucking name, and everybody knows it. And I couldn’t say it because I was scared. Of what it would do to me when I did. It would be like acknowledging you were here after all this time. So I called you Osha instead. But it meant more, Saeris. To me, it meant more.”
He wasn’t being serious. There was no way. “All of this time…” I whispered. “But… you called me that from the very start.” Kingfisher nodded slowly, eyes shining bright. “Most sacred,” he repeated, whispering the words.
‘A mother is always there for her son,’ she told me. ‘It doesn’t matter that he grows and steps into his power. Even the strongest warrior’s heart can break. His soul can still be crushed. Since I won’t be able to comfort you when the challenges before you feel too great, take this book and keep it as a guide. Above all, know this. There will be times when the world seeks to destroy you, Kingfisher. But you are stronger than you can ever know. You will not falter. And you will not face it all alone.’”
“She said, when I needed you most, you’d come blazing into my life like a meteorite, riding on a wave of chaos that would turn my whole world upside down. That you’d shine so brilliantly that you’d light up hell itself and guide me out of the darkness. She had no idea what your name would be. Just that you’d have dark hair, and a beautiful smile. And that I’d love you with a fierceness despite myself.”
“My mother never said anything about a mating bond. They haven’t existed for so long. The thought never even crossed my mind. But when I found you lying in that pool of blood, I felt it, like a band snapping into place. I smelled it on you, too. And I… I was so fucking angry.”
“Sure. Why not. I’m too pretty to die old, anyway.”
“If it were up to me, we wouldn’t spend another night without each other again.”
Make me forget that I’ve ever suffered, I commanded. Make me forget that I will again.
“Nobody will ever fuck you the way I’m about to fuck you, Saeris Fane. I’m about to introduce you to all seven gods. When you meet them, don’t forget to tell them I’m the one you worship on your knees.”
“I thought you were hiding these from me,” I said. “Maybe I was. But I’ll be damned all the way to hell and back if you use that sweet mouth on me and I don’t get to watch.” He gazed at the ink staining my skin, taking it all in. When his eyes met mine again, they were full of fire. “And, anyway. I’m not afraid of them, Little Osha. Are you?”
I watched, unable to tear my gaze from him, and an array of new tattoos bloomed like black flowers across his skin. They climbed up the side of his throat. Fresh runes chained his collarbone, interlocking and bold. The design on his neck looked like feathers at first, and—yes, they were feathers. The outstretched wings of a majestic bird, flashing metallic blue and green, fanned around either side of his neck, unique and stunning.
“I’ll be grateful for every second that I can say that I belong to you, Saeris Fane. Eighty years or eighteen hours. It doesn’t matter to me. It’ll still be the highest honor of my life.
“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—” “Please, for the love of the gods, don’t say anything. Just let me have my fantasy. Just for tonight.”
