Quicksilver (Fae & Alchemy, #1)

by Callie Hart

“This… is a learning experience, I think. There are always consequences to our actions. Your new furry bracelet is a consequence of human weakness. Wear it with pride.”

Oh, for the love of all the gods, he was pulling his shirt over his gods-cursed head! When he turned, his chest bare, a sea of swirling black ink marking slick muscle, his expression was trained into a blank mask. At the very center of his chest, snarling and fierce, another wolf’s head had been inked into his skin. Many smaller tattoos surrounded it or broke off from it, but I couldn’t tell what they were without inspecting him much more closely, and no way I was doing that.

Gods, he was a sight to behold. Every line of him was art. With his full mouth, and the faint shadow of stubble marking his jaw, his fascinating eyes, and all of his midnight-black hair, it was hard not to look at him and ache. 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 would have been wrong to think of the men I’d encountered back in Zilvaren in that way. Some of them had been attractive. Some of them had even been hot enough to make my toes curl. But Fisher was the epitome of everything that was strong, and male, and powerful. He was so much more than anything I’d experienced before. He was beautiful. Looking at him made me feel like I couldn’t catch my breath. “If you want it, come here and touch it,” he rumbled. Holy. Fucking. Gods.

“That ring isn’t a relic. It’s a trinket and nothing more. It wouldn’t have protected you.” “It shielded you when you brought me through the pool!” “No. It didn’t,” he said icily. “Of course it fucking didn’t.” “You told Layne—” “I told Layne I was wearing it. Nothing more. Whatever she inferred from that is her own undoing.”

“What am I gonna call you? If you’re gonna be hanging around, you need to have a name.” He peered up at me, his little onyx eyes narrowed to slits, eyelids slowly blinking so that I could make out every single one of his tiny white eyelashes. “What do you think about Onyx?” I asked him. He closed his eyes and didn’t open them again for a long time, which I took to be a sign of approval.

“This is not my brother, Fisher. This is Carrion fucking Swift!”

“I said, verbatim, ‘I go, and I try to get your brother. You help me and assist me in any way I ask you to, and you do as you’re told. You agree to this pact?’ to which you replied, ‘Yes, gods, I agree! Just get on with it!’” “But we both know what I meant! I didn’t mean that I’d go traipsing off into the unknown with you in the middle of the night!” “Unless you’re paying very close attention, what you mean to agree to and what you actually agree to are often two very different things in Fae, Little Osha. You agreed to help me and assist me in any way I asked you to, and that you’d do as you were told. You sealed that deal with blood. Now, I’m telling you to find a horse and saddle it up as quickly as you can, before my psychotic stepfather catches a whiff of what we’re up to and murders us where we stand.” “You fucking tricked me!” “No,” he said bluntly. “I taught you a valuable lesson that will serve you well for the rest of your very short human life in this realm. Always pay attention to the fine print. The devil’s in the details. Now go.”

“I’ll happily kiss all of your aches and pains better for you once we strike camp. I’ve been told my mouth has healing properties. Especially when administered between a pair of thighs.”

“There are a lot of fire sprites here. Water sprites. Air sprites. Not so many earth sprites. You might want to spend some time learning the names of all of the lesser Fae creatures. Eventually, you’ll offend the wrong person if you go around calling everyone faeries.”

“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?”

“She’s mine,” Fisher said.

“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.”

“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.”

Ballard was full of life. It spilled out of the ground, and hovered in the trees, and hung in the air like sweet music. The young ran around, laughing and playing games, while their parents ate and drank together companionably, and the elderly sat by the fire and gossiped.

The residents of Ballard weren’t oppressed. No one was looming over them, threatening them with death if they didn’t fall into line. The food and water they needed to survive weren’t rationed to the point that they didn’t know if they would make it from one day to the next. And there was no war here. No vampires. No Malcolm. No Belikon.

“A lord is charged with watching over his people. He protects them. Defends them. Creates a safe place for them to live. Do you know where they are now? The people who used to live on my lands?”

“The one on the left means blessed one,” he said, his tone light. “The fingers…” He shrugged, looking up at the ceiling far too casually. “They mean all kinds of things.” “Could you be any vaguer?” “I mean, probably…” “Fisher!” “Okay. All right. A lot of them are connected. Light. Dark. Silver. Steel. Earth. Air. Fire. Water. That kind of thing. Alchemist stuff.” Alchemist stuff?

“What the hell does this one mean?” Fisher met my gaze. “That one’s difficult. I can’t give you a definitive answer. Not yet.” “There’s magic in it, isn’t there?” “There’s magic in all of them,” he said nonchalantly, taking a manful bite out of his own breakfast. “If you don’t want to keep them…” “How am I supposed to know if I want to keep them if I don’t know what they mean?” “I’m sorry. You’re right. Here.” He gestured for me to give him my hand, which I did. A moment later, a creeping cold ran over my skin. One by one, the runes faded from my skin until even the complex, multi-layered rune was gone. I stared at him, stunned. “But—” “They aren’t gone for good,” he said tightly. “I… you can change your mind about them later if you want to. You have a month or so. If you decide over the next few weeks that you want them back, I’ll return them to you.” “But what if I decide I want cool hand tattoos after the month has passed? Do I get to choose from different designs every time we sleep together or something?” Fisher laughed dryly, shaking his head. “No. The Marks are chosen for you. They won’t be there after a month. If you decide not to accept them, they’ll be gone for good.”

“What do yours mean?” “Mine?” “Your tattoos. Yours haven’t gone anywhere.” “Oh.” He looked down at himself. “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.” “What about that one?” I asked, pointing at the large, swirling section of ink on his forearm. “Sacrifice,” he said, his voice hitching. “Why is it so much bigger than the rest?” Fisher took in the rune, then slowly drew down the sleeve of his shirt, covering it. “I think you can probably guess why,” he said softly. I could. I’d regretted the question even as I’d asked it. The largest tattoo on Fisher’s arm meant sacrifice, because he had, or would have to, sacrifice so much… They were prophecies of a kind. They told his story. And it wasn’t necessarily one that he was comfortable talking about. In time, maybe. But for now… I pointed at the small bird tattoo below my collarbone, changing the subject. “You told me you couldn’t take this one back.”

“I name you Avisiéth. The Unsung Song. Redemption’s Dawn.”

“We’re bound by the rules of war,” Fisher said. “We can’t use magic to attack or affect an enemy until that enemy has breached our border. And anyway, our magic doesn’t work on Sanasrothian soil. Fae magic needs light and life to survive. And there’s nothing on their side of the river but death, darkness, and decay. Our lands are divided directly down the centerline of the Darn. But the second these fuckers cross over…”

“Saeris! Find Lorreth! Head back up to the forge!” Renfis bellowed. “No!” I drew Solace, and a ripple of heat charged up my arm. The sensation took me by surprise. Two seconds later, I was standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Ren before sixty snarling vampires. Ren looked at me like I was madness personified. “You promised him!” he shouted. Nodding, I raised the sword. “I promised I’d stay here. If I run off into the dark by myself, I’ll definitely die. He knew I’d have better odds if I was with you.” There was nothing he could do. Gritting his teeth, Ren twisted, jamming his sword up through the skull of a vampire so disfigured that I couldn’t even tell if it had been male or female. “Stubborn girl,” he growled. “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.” Wait a minute. What did—ohfffUCK!

I took a deep breath and stilled my mind. My training took over. All of the endless hours locked away in the attic with my mother’s rebel friends, learning how to put something sharp to good use. How to move my body. How to use my opponent’s own momentum against them. How to strike and retreat, strike and retreat, strike and retreat. How to shut myself down and focus on the task at hand.

I don’t want to go back to Zilvaren anymore. Not forever, anyway. I want to go home, get Hayden and Elroy, and then bring them back here to Yvelia.

Seven? Seven runes. My mind scrambled to try and remember how many runes had marked my fingers. How many runes had interlocked on the back of my right hand. I had no idea, but there had been a lot of them. So, so many. “And what about script? You know. Writing?” I could only get a few words out at a time. “Do people… get that sometimes? Going around… their wrists?” “Oh, no. Definitely not. You only see that kind of thing in storybooks,” Te Léna scoffed. “They called it a God Binding. A blessing from the gods themselves. They weren’t real, of course. The most important couples in Yvelian history were said to have had them, but it was all romantic rubbish. Just something storytellers embellished to make their tales more tragic. Plus, they looked impressive in the illuminated books.” I met her eyes, but I was looking right through her. “Tragic?” “The lovers in those stories always suffered terribly. One of them always died. They were beautiful tales, but they ended with heartbreak.” “Sounds… awful.” I tried to laugh but couldn’t find the breath for it. Worry flitted across Te Léna’s face at last. “Are you okay? You’re looking a little pale.” “Yes. Yeah, I’m fine. I… do you happen to know where Fisher is?” “He asked me to tell you that he’d be waiting for you in his room.” “Oh, great. Thanks. I think I might go and find him, actually. There’s something I want to talk to him about.”

“Tell me why you wouldn’t say my name,” I growled. My heart hammered like a piston in my chest. If I didn’t sit down soon, I was going to fall down, but I wanted to hear him say it first. I wanted his fucking confession. “I know you can’t lie to me, so come on. Tell me why.” He sat there, his bare, inked chest not moving, his black waves tumbling into his face, so perfect, so handsome, and that cursed fucking thing deep down in the basement of my soul ached and said mine. You know why, he said into my mind. “No, Fisher. Out loud.” “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 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!” I bit the end of my tongue until I tasted blood. “And, yes. I told you once about the Oshellith. Yes, I told you that they hatched and died in a day. But I was being cruel, Saeris. I didn’t tell you about them properly.” Nothi...

“The Oshellith hatch once in most Fae lifetimes. Up north, in the wastelands, far beyond Ajun Sky, where the dragons used to live. The air’s so cold there that it’ll freeze in your lungs if you breathe it in without a mask. No life exists there for long. But once in a thousand years, the howling winds drop, signaling the coming of the Oshellith. News of that event travels quickly. That’s when the bravest of our kind set out. They go on foot where no horse can go. When they reach the valley where the Oshellith hatch, they find the butterfly’s cocoons and they shield them with their bodies. They give them whatever heat they can, for as long as they can. It can take up to twelve hours for them to break out of those cocoons. But when they do…” Kingfisher swallowed, shaking his head. “It’s the most beautiful thing a person can experience in this lifetime. They glow blue and pink and silver, with an ethereal light. They have music, though no one knows how. A sweet, soft song that’s capable of healing. The Oshellith mate and lay their eggs, but once that’s done, they fill the air, and they dance. Protecting them while they live is considered a sacred rite that many die in order to perform. That’s what Oshellith means in Old Fae, Saeris. Most Sacred.”

“She wrote about you,” he whispered. “My mother. Pages and pages. She knew that she’d die soon, and so she wrote me a book. ‘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.’” My anger was a powerful thing, but in the face of this revelation, it wavered. I didn’t know how to feel. This was a lot to take in. Fisher hung his head, a bitter smile at his mouth. “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 heart squeezed, my throat burning with emotion. Centuries ago, a mother had looked into her son’s future, seeking comfort, to assure herself that he would live a good life. And she had seen the pain and suffering the fates had in store for her boy, and then she had seen me...

“She was wrong, sometimes. About little things. Small details with big consequences.” He pointed to his ear. “In all of her drawings of you, your ears were like mine. You were Fae. And when I saw…” He sucked in a deep breath. Sat up a little straighter. “When I felt Solace calling to me and I stepped into that pool, I saw that you were human, and I knew in an instant how easily this place would destroy you. So I made the decision to leave you there. But I couldn’t leave you, could I?” he continued. “Your stomach was torn wide open. You were dying. I had no choice but to bring you back. So I decided to be awful to you, so you’d fucking hate me and want nothing to do with me.” “Stellar plan,” I whispered. “That really panned out.” His crooked smile nearly broke my heart. “Be honest. I think it worked a little bit.” Ruefully, I shook my head. “Would those marks have shown up on my hands if it had?” “No,” he admitted. “I don’t think they would.” “What do they mean, Fisher? For us?” “Didn’t Te Léna tell you?” he asked. “I want you to tell me.”

“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.” He clenched his jaw. “Angry that the fates had sealed us that way, when no one else in living memory had been affected by a bond. Angry that it had happened before either of us had even had a chance to get to know each other. I had no idea the marks would show up like that. Without any fucking warning. Without us being married, or even… even… deciding for ourselves that we wanted to be together. “I saw them appear while you slept the other night. I watched them growing darker, one after the other, more marks than I’d ever heard of, and it scared the hell out of me, Saeris.” He nodded sadly to himself. “Historically, Marks like that come at a cost. They’re the kind of Marks that people will want to write stories about. And not happy ones.” So, it was true then. Te Léna was right. Tragic, she’d said. The word echoed through the empty halls of my mind, growing louder with each repetition. “I’m not well,” Fisher whispered. “I can’t sleep. I’m haunted, constantly. I see things. I hear things. And it’s getting worse.” He hooked his pendant around his finger, closing his hand around it. “This won’t help for much longer—” “I can make you another relic. I just made one—” “This isn’t just a relic, Saeris. It’s...

Fisher sighed. “I’m not sure how it works exactly. I scoured the library at Cahlish. For two weeks, I read everything I could lay my hands on that referred to the mating bond. I wanted to find a way to prevent it from forming in the first place, even though I knew it was already too late for that.” He shrugged. “I did read that, if marks appeared, a waiting period could be initiated, though. Where either party could choose to accept or reject a bond. I initiated the waiting period for us back in Ballard.” The pieces were beginning to fall into place now. “So that’s what all of those books were for? In your tent back in Irrín?” The thought of it made me want to curl into a ball and stop breathing. “That’s what you were doing all that time you were gone? After I was attacked by the feeder? You were looking for a way to free yourself.”

“I was looking for a way to save you.” “So you evoked the waiting period. For me. For my own good. Because it was the right thing to do,” I snapped. Fisher laughed, the sound bitter. “Rejecting the bond altogether would have been the right thing to do.” “Then why didn’t you?” “I’ve asked myself that question a lot. I’d decided that’s what I was going to do when I watched them darken on your skin. Especially when I saw the god bindings appear. But then, when it came down to it, I couldn’t do it. I don’t know why. I… I just couldn’t. But don’t worry. The month will pass, and nothing will change. First, we’re going to get Everlayne back. Then you’ll finish making the relics. Once that’s done, you’ll go back to Zilvaren and your brother.” I was drowning by the second, dragged deeper into misery, further from hope and happiness. “Oh, great. You’ve got it all figured out, then. Congratulations. I’m so happy for you.” Fisher looked stung by my tone. Good. He fucking should be. “Saeris—” “No. No, really. I’m thrilled that you’ve had so long to think about all of this. That you’ve known for hundreds of years that I was going to show up in your life. That you knew what those tattoos meant, and you got to decide that you were going to reject me for my own good and send me packing back to Zilvaren. I’m ecstatic that you’ve made all of these awful, difficult decisions on my behalf, Kingfisher.” “Oh, come on! Be realistic!” Fisher stood, dragging his hands through his hair. He towered o...

“You’re such a fucking idiot, Fisher. These people are your friends. They love you. You’re really going to ask Ren to help kill you? Then keep it a secret from everyone else who cares about you? You’d really put that on him? And Lorreth is smart. He isn’t going to accept that you’re abandoning Yvelia and you won’t be coming back.” “He’s going to have to, isn’t he?” “Like hell he will.” I headed for the door. “Where are you going, Saeris?” he called after me. “To sleep. And in the morning, I’m going to the library, and I’m going to research how to save Everlayne and you. Because I don’t just throw my hands up and accept defeat when things get hard. I’m honestly shocked to learn that you do.”

Madra ran her fingers along Fisher’s jaw, wetting her bottom lip. “Don’t fucking touch him!” I thrashed, trying to tear myself free of the guards, but the hold they had on me tightened. The queen smirked, moving even closer to Fisher so that her peaked nipples, poking through the sheer material of her dress, brushed his arm as she circled him. Fisher growled, low and menacing. He turned hate-filled eyes on the queen of Zilvaren. “Remove yourself from me, or you won’t like what happens next.” “Oh, please.” Madra waved away his threat. “I hate to tell you this, but I can do anything to you that I want. Malcolm has always let me play with his toys.” “I play back,” Fisher spat. “It might not be today, but oh, I am coming to find you, Madra. Fear the shadows, bitch. I’m made of them. One night soon, I’ll climb out of one and slit your fucking throat.” “What a lucky girl I am.” Madra feigned nonchalance, but I could see it, even from here, plain as day. Fisher’s venom had shaken her a little. “And what, pray tell, have I done to deserve such special attention from the likes of you?” “You spayed my mate when she was a fucking child,” he seethed. “For that alone, I’ll make your undying existence an unending agony. An eternity of suffering the likes of which even your evil mind cannot comprehend. You’ll know no peace at my hands. I will destroy your empire and erase your name from the annals of time. When I am done with your legacy, Madra the Undying will never have existed. And yo...

A hundred years?”

55

hundred and two.”

55

hundred and two. He

55

“I went into that quicksilver because I felt my father’s sword calling to me. And I knew I’d need it for this.” He became smoke. He was hurt and tired, but I’d never witnessed him move this fast. He came for me. One hand closed on my hip. The other reached to the other hip—for the sword there, sitting in its scabbard. He drew Solace, the blade becoming a flare of brilliant light in the ash-choked air, and then Fisher was spinning. He moved like liquid. Like lightning. Like vengeance. Ducking low, he spun, reversing the weapon so the tip of the blade pointed down. Dropping to one knee, he clasped the hilt in both hands and drove the sword in an arc, back and up… … into Belikon’s stomach. It happened fast. Really fast. I was barely able to track the movement. Belikon hadn’t expected it, that was for sure. A wet gurgle came out of the Yvelian king’s mouth as Fisher ripped his father’s sword free, spun again, and drove the tip straight into Belikon’s throat. He gritted his teeth as he leaned his weight on the weapon, and the gleaming blade pushed all the way out the back of Belikon’s neck. “I don’t need magic to mess you up, you fuck,” he growled. “This is for me. But mostly, it’s for my parents.” Madra, Undying Queen of the shining Silver City, the Banner in the North, unleashed a bloodcurdling scream. And all hell broke loose.

Madra’s petulant cry sounded far away. My ears were full of Harron’s labored wheezing. He tried to stab backward and plunge his dagger into my thigh, but I batted away his arm and wrenched his wrist into an unnatural angle. Harron dropped the dagger. Feigning shock, I said, “Wait a minute. I think Death just remembered your name, Harron.” And then I snapped his neck.

“That’s not a spider. That’s Morthil. It’s a demon. And it’ll stun you with its stinger and eat you alive if it catches you. Slowly. Over a period of days—”