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taste—“told my guards that you were the one who reopened the portal. It seems highly unlikely that a human woke the quicksilver.” He grunted, displeased. “But after a thousand years of waiting, we can’t afford to dismiss this as heresy without checking first. Believe me when I say that we’re all praying such a holy position hasn’t fallen to such unholy blood.” He inhaled sharply. “But the fates are strange. And one way or another, I will have the portals restored.”
I had grown up in a pit of misery, where people died more often than they lived. I hadn’t seen many beautiful things in my short life. But, of all the beautiful things I had seen, Fisher was the most beautiful of all.
“It’s beating fast because I’m afraid,” I snapped. “Of me?” Kingfisher huffed a blast of laughter down his nose. “No, you’re not. You should be, but you’re not. That’s one of the things I like most about you.”
“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.”
The sound of Fisher’s genuine laughter was rarer than water had ever been back in Zilvaren; it almost brought tears to my eyes to hear it.
He narrowed his beautiful eyes at me. “Swear it.” “A promise doesn’t bind me the way it binds you.” “I know. But humans still make promises to each other, even though they can be broken, don’t they? Because they trust the other to honor their word.” “Yes.” “Then swear, Little Osha, and I’ll trust you.”
