Quicksilver (Fae & Alchemy, #1)

by Callie Hart

“And then there will have been

the people who fought for something better and the people who laid down and took it,”

“If you die before you can give this back, I’m not going to be happy,” he groused.

She’d squawked when he’d thrown me unceremoniously down onto my bed and snarled, “Bad human,” at me.

He smiled suggestively as he said, “Swallow.”

“I’m stronger than you, idiot.

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

“Urgh! Do you have to be so difficult?” His eyes danced. “It isn’t mandatory, but I do enjoy it.”

“There’s every way,” Fisher rumbled, his eyes darkening. “I’d know the smell of you anywhere. On anyone. I’d know it blind and in the dark. Across a fucking sea. I’d be able to scent you—”

“You’re thinking about my hands sliding up the insides of your thighs right now,” he said. “About my fingers slipping inside the wet folds of you. Working against your swollen clit, rubbing you until

you’re panting and whimpering, begging for me to sink my cock into your—” For the second time since we sat down to dinner, Renfis nearly choked on his drink. He spun in his seat, giving Fisher a scandalized look that said, really? I’m sitting right fucking here, but Fisher paid him no heed.

I slammed down my spoon. “You’re incorrigible!” “I don’t know what that means.” “Yes, you fucking do!” “All right. I do. What’s your point?”

And anyway, it turns out my ex can make shrapnel out of swords, so I reckon we’re gonna be just fine.” “I am not your ex. And I did not know I could do that! I don’t think I can do it again!”

A hundred and ten years. I left them for a hundred and ten years. Ren and the others did everything they could to stem the tide. It’s not their fault. I was supposed to be here to protect them. I failed them. So I don’t deserve to be called Lord of Cahlish. I am lord of nothing.”

When I’d picked up a pitcher at the Winter Palace and filled a glass for myself for the first time, I’d thought the sound of that rushing, free water would be my favorite sound until the day I died. I was wrong. 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.

Fisher rested his chin on top of his forearms and sighed. “What?” I whispered. 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.” “What have I stolen?” But he smiled a small, sad smile, slowly shaking his

“That smoking hot blonde said I was pretty.” “Gods alive, Carrion. Do not tell me you have a thing for Danya. She’s fucking awful.” “Eh.” He shot me a rakish grin. “I love a girl with a sharp tongue and a bad attitude. Kinda makes my dick hard.”

“When we were here last time, you said that the people of Ballard had something you needed. But you never got it,” I whispered. Fisher gently kissed my forehead, and all around us, the flickering candle flames started to blink out. “Yes, I

did,” he said. I barely heard his next words as I drifted away. “I came for a little hope.”

Carrion held the sword, turning it this way and that. After much consideration, he

said, “It looks like a Simon.” “Simon?” “Yeah. Simon. Don’t blame me. That’s what it looks—” He stopped talking and listened. “See. It likes the name. It wants to be Simon.”

“You spayed my mate when she was a fucking child,” he seethed. “For that alone, I’ll make your undying existence an unending agony.

The thief held up his hands. “You’re right. I apologize. I’m just a little on edge right now. I’m not my best self.”

“All right. I’m sorry I didn’t disclose to you that I was a magic-wielding political asylum seeker, posing as a human when I slept with you. Does that make you feel better?”