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“Even filthy and tired, you’re still beautiful.”
“It’s going to bite you,” Kingfisher said. “No, it won’t. It—” It bit me.
“We have a fucking Alchemist?” “She’s mine,” Fisher said.
“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.”
“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.”
“Don’t you worry, Saeris. You’re perfect right where you are.”
That’s what Oshellith means in Old Fae, Saeris. Most Sacred.”
He would be my end, this male. He would claim my better days and carry me during my worst. He would show me the meaning of ecstasy and drown me in it until I fucking died.
“I’m in love with you, Saeris Fane,” he whispered quietly into my hair. “And I’m already half-mad, anyway. What’s a little complicated thrown into the mix?”
“Carrion Swift, if you don’t wake up right now, I’m going to tell all of your asshole friends back in the Third that you were a shitty lay.”
“Human, Fae, or vampire. It doesn’t matter how long you live, Saeris; you will always be most sacred to me.”
