Quicksilver (Fae & Alchemy, #1)

by Callie Hart

For those who live their nightmares, so that others may have their dreams.

It was common knowledge in Zilvaren City that to lie to a guardian meant death. I knew this in a firsthand, painful way that most other Zilvarens did not. Almost a year ago to the day, I’d watched one of the queen’s men clad in beaten golden armor gut my neighbor for lying about his age. And before that, and far worse, I’d stood silently in the street while my mother’s throat had been split wide open, spilling jets of hot, peasant blood into the sunbaked sand.

“Lissa Fossick. Twenty-four. Single.” I winked at him, and the bastard squeezed harder. Dark hair and blue eyes weren’t common in the Silver City; he would remember me. The age I’d given him was real, as was my pathetic romantic status, but the name I’d provided wasn’t. My real name? No way I was handing that over without a fight.

This bastard would shit himself if he realized he had the Saeris Fane in his grasp.

The gauntlet weighed at least four pounds. Four pounds of metal. I couldn’t just walk away from that. 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.

Sometimes, objects shook around me. Objects made of iron, tin, or gold.

“He’s twenty years old, El. He has to face reality at some point. And I am doing this for him. Everything I do is for him.”

I only ventured across the tavern’s threshold when I’d had a bad day. I came here to blow off steam. To fuck. To fight. A wild array of outrageous things was whispered about me behind the backs of sunburned hands here: that a man might either get lucky or be beaten unconscious depending on my mood when I sat my ass down at the bar.

didn’t realize I was such a burden,” he whispered.

“Well, you are, Hayden. Your entire fucking life, that’s all you’ve been. Now leave me alone. Don’t follow. Do not come looking for me. GO!”

I’d wanted the position, needed to be Madra’s favorite, but not so I’d be lifted out of poverty to be kept like a novel pet. I’d suffered too much by then. Known too much injustice. Seen such unspeakable acts of violence that all of my innocence had been washed away. I’d needed to be chosen by the queen so that I could get close enough to kill her. I fantasized about how I would do it each night when I closed my eyes. When my mother was slain in the streets and left to rot, those fantasies were all that kept me sane.

Do you know much about metalwork, Captain? I do. It’s under the most unbearable conditions that the sharpest, most dangerous weapons are forged. And we are dangerous, Captain. She’s turned us all into weapons. That is why she won’t suffer my people to live.”

Her skin was fair and flawless, her cheeks flushed pink. Her hair was the color of spun gold, thick and braided into complex knots. Bright, quick, intelligent blue eyes took me in as she approached. She was certainly beautiful. More beautiful than any woman I’d ever seen. Her gown was a deep, rich sapphire blue, made of a stunning, silken fabric that I’d never even laid eyes on before. She was a dainty, graceful thing, but just like everything else in this strange hall, there was something strange about her.

“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 I cast them out. And now they have sent you to try and kill me?”

Boot-licking, flattering, fawning sycophant.

Saeris Fane was twenty-four years of age when she died. Honestly, she should have died a lot sooner, but the girl never did know when to give

And it’s a good thing she never does 💜

had no understanding of what it was I was doing, but if this was a world-ending gift, then good. Fuck this city and fuck this world. My family was already doomed, and what did I care for anyone else? If Harron was telling the truth, then I’d be doing the rest of the people in the Third a favor.

“Saeris, no! Do not touch the sword. Do not… turn the key!” he panted. “Do not open the gate! You—you’ve no idea the hell you will unleash on this place!”

Death. The bastard had come to claim me in person. Emerging from the silver, the huge figure rose up from the pool as if ascending from the very depths of hell itself. Broad shoulders. Wet, shoulder-length black hair. Tall. Taller than any other man I’d ever seen. His eyes shone an iridescent, shimmering green, the pupil of the right eye rimmed by the same shining metallic silver that ran in ribbons from the black leather armor that covered his chest and arms. He towered over me, his lips pulled back into a snarl, revealing gleaming white teeth and sharp canines. In his hand, he held a monstrous sword forged out of a black metal that vibrated with a tempestuous energy that sang in the marrow of my bones. He raised the sword, about to bring it down and cleave me in two, but then his quick eyes landed on the ancient sword I was still holding and he froze, arm raised above his head.

Of course Death was beautiful. How else would anyone choose to go with him without putting up a fight? Even though he scowled at me, his dark brows tugging together to form a dark, unhappy line, he was still the most savagely beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

A moment later, he withdrew his hand, a long silver chain hooked around his index finger. He unfastened it. “If you die before you can give this back, I’m not going to be happy,” he groused. The chain was warm against my skin as he looped it around my neck. Ever since I’d fallen against the steps, my body had been blissfully numb, but the reprieve proved temporary as the stranger in black lifted me roughly into his arms.

The bed I was lying in didn’t belong to me. The only feather mattress I’d ever slept on in my whole life was Carrion Swift’s, and this bed didn’t belong to that asshole, either. This bed was far bigger, for starters, and it didn’t smell like muskrat. A set of immaculate white sheets covered my body, on top of which lay a thick, woolen blanket. High overhead, the ceiling was not the pale golden color of sandstone. It was mostly white, but… no. It wasn’t white. It was a pale, washed-out blue, and there were streaks and dabs of dove-gray sporadically daubed here and there, forming clouds. It was beautifully done. The walls of the room were a darker shade of blue, bordering on violet.

“Master Eskin said you’d wake up today,”

She leaned against the wall by the door, holding a stack of dusty books. Her hair was the lightest blond, so long it reached well past her waist, tamed into two elaborate braids, each as thick as my wrist. She could only be, what, twenty-four? Twenty-five? Around the same age as me. Her skin was pale, her eyes a vivid shade of green.

The hunter-green dress she wore was a work of art. Brocaded, the bodice was embroidered with golden thread that shimmered when it caught the light. The full skirt was decorated with embroidered leaves. The stranger grinned at me, still clutching hold of her books.

“I’m Everlayne. I’ve been visiting you,”

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—

“Myths. Stories. The Fae are folklore. There’s no such thing as the Fae.”

“Oh. I was in the palace. Madra’s captain was trying to kill me. I… stopped his dagger somehow and grabbed hold of a sword. Then the floor turned to molten silver. A big pool of it. And… something came out of it.” “Something? Or someone?” “A man,” I whispered. But Everlayne shook her head. “A male. He came because the sword called to him…” She trailed off, throwing her hands in the air. “Gods, I still don’t know your name. Unless you don’t have a name.”

“I take it… we’re not in the Silver City, then,” I said slowly. She smiled. “We’re not.” My stomach rolled. “Then where are we?” “Yvelia.”

“Yvelia! More specifically, the Winter Palace.

“I’m not going to lie to you. Some of the tales your mother used to tell you were true. My people can be ruthless and cruel at times. There are those of us who endeavor to be different, but… occasionally there’s simply no other option. We’ve been waiting to retrieve that sword you drew for a very long time. But to have found you along with it…” She shook her head. “You have no idea how important you are, Saeris. I’m afraid my father isn’t liable to give you up any time soon. And he wants to see you in an hour, so unfortunately, the bath isn’t up for debate.”

“It’s inhuman behavior. But we aren’t human, Saeris. We’re Fae. We don’t behave like you. Don’t think like you. We don’t operate by the same moral guidelines that some of your kind do, either. The faster you remember that, the easier this will be,”

When you speak to my father, you can ask him about returning to your Silver City.” “And who the hell is your father to tell me if I get to go home?” My anger echoed loudly up and down the hallway. Both guards, who stood in stern silence, flinched, looking deeply uncomfortable. “He is Belikon De Barra,” Everlayne said evenly. “King of the Yvelian Fae.”

“You have beautiful hair,” she said, running a wide-toothed comb through the strands. I winced as she swept it back over my shoulders. “It’ll grow well here. Long hair is a sign of high-born status for Fae women. Others will be jealous of your dark coloring, too. Dark hair is a royal trait amongst the Yvelian Fae.”

“Superstition and sacrilege. Your queen is human. And even though the sand and the wind swept away the names of the gods, I assure you Madra knows them. That she’s chosen to let them vanish from her people’s history speaks volumes of her corruption.” Everlayne pointed up at the male I was still staring at. “Styx, god of shadows.” She moved along the line, inclining her head and touching her brow to each of her gods before she named them. “Kurin, god of secrets. Nicinnai, goddess of masks. Maleus, god of dawn and new beginnings. These two are often counted as one god,”

“Balmithin. Twin sisters. Goddesses of the sky. Legend says that they once were one god, but a mighty storm came, and Balmithin refused to take shelter as it raged across the land. The powerful spirit within the storm was furious that Balmithin didn’t cower before him, and so he lashed her with forks of lightning. Again and again, the lightning struck Balmithin, but she didn’t die. Instead, she cracked and split in two, becoming Bal and Mithin. Bal is the goddess of the sun, but goddess of the day in a looser sense. Mithin is the goddess of the moon, but again, she presides over all of the night.”

I also had no idea what a moon was, but I set all of that aside for now.

“I need to get back to Zilvaren. My brother—” “Is already dead.” The finality in Belikon’s words made my head spin. “The Bitch Queen put an end to your home and all who resided in it.” “You don’t know that.” The king’s mouth twisted sourly. “She declared that she would. At least that is what I was told. We know your queen. A power-hungry despot with a black and shriveled heart. Violence is her creed. If she swore to kill them, then everyone you once knew is now long dead, along with thousands more. You, on the other hand, are still alive and, as far as I am concerned, owe the Fae of Yvelia a debt of gratitude. Your task will ensure that you repay that debt. I’ve only just learned the details of how you came to find yourself in Yvelia. The individual who brought you to my court”—Belikon ran his tongue over his teeth like he was trying to sweep away a foul taste—“told my guards that you were the one who reopened the portal. It seems highly unlikely that a human woke the quicksilver.”

“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.”

“But the fates are strange. And one way or another, I will have t...

“You’re charged with awakening the quicksilver and reopening the pathways between this world and others. Your cooperation in that task will dictate how you spend your time in Yvelia. Rail against your purpose and life within the walls of this palace will become infinitely more uncomfortable for you. I have spoken.”

The name Kingfisher echoed throughout the hall, spoken with a mix of reverence and fear.

“The scourge of Yvelia! The male that stalks your children’s nightmares. The male who torched a city on a whim. The male who’d cut your throat as soon as look at you. Does this pathetic creature strike such an imposing figure now?”

It sounded like this Kingfisher had killed a lot of people. The king made out as though he’d done it on a whim, out of spite. If that was true, then it could be argued that the male deserved to be punished. But the pageantry of this felt off.

“The gods must be obeyed, lest House De Barra fall!”

“Stop bickering.” A thrill of energy rocketed up my spine at these two words. Kingfisher’s voice was rough and pained, but it was also electricity. It made every hair on my body stand to attention.

Eyes were not that color. I’d never seen that shade of green before—a jade so bright and vibrant that it didn’t look real. I’d noticed the filaments of silver threaded through his right iris back in Madra’s Hall of Mirrors, but I’d assumed I’d imagined them, being so close to death and all. The silver shone there, though, definitely real, forming a reflective, metallic corona around the black well of his pupil.

Elroy always said I was as stubborn as an ass.