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Wolves all, singing out their victory.
“Lorreth of the Broken Spires! Lorreth of The Darn!” “Lorreth!” “Lorreth!” “Lorreth of The Darn!”
For the first time in a thousand years, a god sword had found an Yvelian worthy and granted him magic to defend his people.
It was Everlayne. And she was flanked by at least a hundred vampires.
Excuse me??
“Then think. Why the hell do they have Layne over there? Why isn’t she already fucking dead?”
Younger than Malcolm, he was a fraction taller, a fraction broader, and every bit as dangerous. I could feel his power—a sinking, penetrating cold, spilling across the river, leeching into my bones.
“Fuck you, Taladaius,”
“Oh, please. You know me. I don’t have the stomach for hurting the things you care about. My father, on the other hand…”
And since he recently lost his most vaunted prize,
“She can’t come home now,” Ren whispered in a broken voice. “She’s his.”
“It means she’s enthralled to him,” Fisher said.
I am Lord of Midnight to you.
“Why do you think?” Taladaius answered tersely. “He bid me bring her. She’s a trap. He wants to bend you to his will, so he’s taken something precious to you, and he’s broken it. Are you shocked?” He didn’t wait for Fisher’s reply. “You will either come and try to save her, even though doing so would be futile, or else you’ll come for vengeance’s sake. Either way, he knows you’ll come. He doesn’t care why. Only that you do.”
“At the place where the two of you brokered your last deal. Honestly, I think he’s hoping for a repeat performance.”
“Your darling Everlayne was bitten twelve hours ago. You can do the math. As we speak, my father rides north with the better part of his horde. If you aren’t there to meet him when he arrives at his destination, he’ll see that she makes it through the change and then spends the rest of eternity on her back, being fucked raw by Ammontraíeth’s most depraved residents, one… after another… after another. Or you give him what he wants. It’s that simple.”
“He wants me,” he whispered.
“WELL, HE CAN’T HAVE HER!”
“But he wants the Alchemist, Fisher. If he has to burn down all of Yvelia to claim her, you know perfectly well that he’ll do it.”
“Malcolm was the first to be affected by the blood curse. The very first. When Rurik Daianthus, the last Yvelian king, discovered the cure, Malcolm was one of the few who chose to remain vampires. Over the centuries, the others who had accepted their curse were systematically killed off until only Malcolm remained. There were whispers that Malcolm ingested their power somehow. He is millennia old, undying, never aging. Every year he survives, he grows in strength and capability. His venom is potent beyond imagination. When one of his lords bites a victim, they can drink and sate their thirst
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“The victim becomes bound to the vampire who bit them,” Lorreth said, stepping in. “Mindlessly devoted to their needs. They’ll feed and fuck their master without a single thought for themselves. Inevitably, their masters grow bored and drain them, and then their victim dies. Three days later, they rise from wherever they’ve been discarded and become the feeders you’ve seen on the river.”
“Malcolm’s venom is lethal, Saeris. All it takes is one drop. He doesn’t need to drain her to kill her now. The work is done. Only two possible paths lay before Everlayne. If Malcolm permits her to drink from him, and she actually does it, then she’ll return and become something like Malcolm’s Lords. If she refuses to drink from Malcolm, or he refuses his blood to her, then she’ll die and return as a feeder.”
“I give you my blood in thanks, Saeris Fane.”
“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.
“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?”
“My personal life isn’t up for public discussion.”
“I don’t know, I liked the look of it. It was the only green thing for a mile amongst all that white. I figured it deserved an easy life if it had made it this far growing out of a snowbank. Plus, my tent was so bare. It needed a little cheering up.”
“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.”
“I take it you’ve forgiven our benevolent kidnapper for his crimes, then? You and he seem very close.”
“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.
Yes, a good secret. Very good. You want to stay. You want to save him. You must. You must. I frowned, watching the quicksilver closely as it vibrated next to the ring in the bowl of the crucible. Save him? I thought. Hayden? Yes, I want to bring him here. Not the brother. The Kingggfisshhherrrr, the quicksilver buzzed. Save him. Save the gates. Save Yvelia.
“I do love a husband-and-wife team. Maybe he’ll let me join you both if he…”
The Fae healer had lowered her hands again, but I was staring at them, eyes fixed on them. They were marked with runes.
“Carrion, let me put this as plainly as I possibly can. So long as the sun still rises and sets every night, I am never going to sleep with you.”
My husband and I designed them together.”
“It’s a Fae custom to mark our skin on our fifth wedding anniversaries. We tattoo the blessings we pray for onto our hands in the hopes that they become manifest. Yaz and I decided on a harmony mark, a longevity mark, and two child marks. Greedy I know, to wish for two children. One would be blessing enough, but…” She shrugged. “No point in holding back when it comes to these things, right?”
“Yes. We wait until the fifth anniversary to do it, because some marriages fail in the early years. It can happen. We’re advised to be cautious and wait until we’re sure of each other before binding our skin. Yaz and I wanted to get our marks after just two years, but the elders said we should wait.”
“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. But there’s no such thing as true mates anymore. When the gods left Yvelia, certain elements of our magic either died or waned over time. The god swords, for example. They were very slowly cut off from the source of the magic they channeled. Our ability to form mating bonds also died out over thousands of years, until it disappeared altogether.”
You only see that kind of thing in storybooks,”
“They called it a God Binding. A blessing from the gods themselves.
Just something storytellers embellished to make their tales more tragic. Plus, they looked impressive in the illuminated books.”
“The lovers in those stories always suffered terribly. One of them always died. They were beautiful tales, but they ended with heartbreak.”
He smiled when the little fox leaped into his lap and began licking his chin.
that cursed fucking thing deep down in the basement of my soul ached and said mine.
At first, I didn’t say it because I fucking hated you,” he said.
“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
“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
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“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.”
