Quicksilver (Fae & Alchemy, #1)

by Callie Hart

Every warrior in Irrín will smell me on you, Fisher’s voice rumbled in my mind. I’m going to make you hoarse from screaming my fucking name. I’m going to mark you in every way imaginable, so that everyone knows you’re fucking mine.

A bliss like no other overloaded my senses—lightning coursing through my veins.

It broke me and made my soul fucking sing.

became pieces of myself, and Fisher was the only thing that held me together.

With each heady draw of his mouth, I felt myself filling up with light until I glowed brilliant as a sun.

Like he was being reborn.

For now, all I knew was that I’d wanted it. I’d asked for it, and, sidenote, Fisher and I were now randomly capable of speaking into each other’s minds.

here?” He smiled sadly. “I always know where you are, Little Osha.”

Except there were more of them now. Many more. Stacks of small runes ran up each one of my fingers. Delicate script wound around my wrists and up my forearms.

“Fisher!” “Okay. All right. A lot of them are connected. Light. Dark. Silver. Steel. Earth. Air. Fire. Water. That kind of thing. Alchemist stuff.”

No, I can’t take that back. And I’m sorry for that. He hadn’t been talking about the bird tattoo. He’d been talking about the bite mark at my throat.

It’s time for you to rest, too, Osha.

By righteous hands, deliverance of the unrighteous dead.

To all those who’ll listen or haven’t been told, of the day the last drake woke and rose from the cold. Of the young warrior who came veiled in shadows and blood to defeat the foul creature and save those he could. Of the Fisher King, and the wolves at his back, who came howling in the night, together, a pack. The frost blessed the morning. The warriors faced their fate. And thus begins our tale, The Ballad of Ajun Gate.

The drake, he did stir, Old Omnamshacry observing the world through ink-black, mad eyes. The drinkers of night pledged him death and decay. That he’d feast on his foes and the flesh he did flay.

So long as he rose and he joined them in war, against the Fae who protected the sacred, blessed ore. With glittering sharp scales of gold and of red, the drake, he consented, and bidden, he fed. The Fae in their towers stood mighty. Stood proud. But soon they were scattered, their fear shouted loud. Dark wings shaded mountain and blotted the sun. And mad old ’Shacry, he watched them all run. The wolves scaled the summit with blades in their hands. The drake saw them coming, and knew where they’d stand

So there he did meet them, and there they did clash. And Old Mad ’Shacry dressed the mountain in ash. His fire ran in rivers. It melted the snow. There was no escaping the glowing hot flow. With teeth bared and dripping, the drake trapped the Fae, laughing with cruelty above the warriors he’d slay. But the wolves held their ground, all dauntless and brave, determined to send Old ’Shacry to his grave. Swift came the chant, then, so all close could hear. A war cry of old that strengthened those near. The wolves ran the charge

and at the head of the swell came the proud Fisher King bearing Nimerelle. The drake saw his courage and was filled with a rage the likes of which unseen in more than an age. But the king held his nerve and raised up his sword, and the wolves showed their courage ’fore the drake and the horde. Their ears rang aloud with the Kingfisher’s cry that those who stood with him might fall, but not die. For their sacrifice was great, and so was the cost. But those t...

Not glory, nor fame. And the drake knew his power. He started to gloat, but the King saw his chance and drove steel down his throat. The drake he did tremble and started to choke, his evil, rank maw filling up with black smoke. He thrashed and he bellowed did old Omnamshacry, but the reaper had claimed him, and bidden, he died. The Ajun we...

We remember, so the Alchemist remembers.

Fisher took one look at me and lifted me into his arms. He might have had a cutting comment for me once.

See, Little Osha. Just like the butterfly I named you after. So weak. So vulnerable.

Kingfisher looked at me like I was the most astonishing thing he’d ever seen. As if he didn’t see the grime and the exhaustion clinging to me like a second skin.

Fisher knelt on the floor, resting his forearms against the side of the copper tub. He watched me, his eyes so fierce that they stripped me even barer than I already was.

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.” “What have I stolen?”

We know who she is, the quicksilver hissed. She is the dawn. She is the moon. She is the sky. She is oxygen in our lungs.

He’d set his jaw. He’d come to a decision. I braced, waiting for a shadow gate to coalesce, but… “If you come, will you stay right by me?” he asked. My knees wanted to buckle. I answered quickly, before he could rethink this. “Yes. Absolutely yes.” “And if I tell you to stay somewhere until danger passes?” “I’ll stay.” “And if I tell you to run?” “I’ll run.” 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.”

A wave of hot emotion knifed me in the center of my chest. This was the kind of male I wanted to be with. “I swear it.”

“Be unrelenting and unmerciful in the face of the wicked dead,” Fisher said.

“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.”

Irrín was an ouroboros—a snake eating its own tail. Its purpose would never be fulfilled.

“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.”

Solace hummed in my hands, sending waves of energy up into my shoulders with every hit I landed. I sank down, settling my weight into the balls of my feet and my hips and immersed myself deep into the flow of killing.

Time slowed down, and the strangest thing happened. My heart rate dipped. A sense of peace washed over me. Acceptance and understanding.

The answer to this was simple.

dropped to my knees and swung the blade around my face, over my head, angled the blade up… and it was done.

It was both beautiful and terrifying to watch. Kingfisher turned killing into an art form.

It was Everlayne. And she was flanked by at least a hundred vampires.

“HUMAN” had come first. Then “Oshellith,” or “Osha,” said with a hefty amount of disdain. Then “Little Osha,” which had first been mocking but had then shifted to an endearment.

“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…”

“Don’t you worry, Saeris. You’re perfect right where you are.”

“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?”

“Eh.” He shot me a rakish grin. “I love a girl with a sharp tongue and a bad attitude. Kinda makes my dick hard.”

“I asked her why they were trying to flay three layers of my skin off with that weird moss, and they said it was special. They said Fae who liked to bedhop were fond of it ’cause it eradicated the scents of their other partners. I couldn’t think of why Fisher would care if I smelled like those triplets who just started working at Kala’s—”

He waggled his eyebrows. “But then I realized that it was you. He didn’t want me smelling like you.”

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.

She gave him a chastising look, holding up both of her hands and showing him their backs. “I regret to inform you that I am still happily mated and married,

There was an elegant design on the back of her right hand, but the other was bare.

“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.