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This bastard would shit himself if he realized he had the Saeris Fane in his grasp.
“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—”
“We have a fucking Alchemist?” “She’s mine,” Fisher said.
“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.”
“Did you hear that?” he said. “What?” “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.”
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.”
“I’ll be grateful for every second that I can say that I belong to you, Saeris Fane. Eighty years or eighteen hours. It doesn’t matter to me. It’ll still be the highest honor of my life.
Feigning shock, I said, “Wait a minute. I think Death just remembered your name, Harron.” And then I snapped his neck.
Pointing at the runes on my index and middle fingers, he named them one at a time. “Earth. Air. Fire. Water. Salt. Brimstone. Quicksilver. The full gamut. More power than any Alchemist I’ve ever encountered. You are capable of restoring me to my power and a lot more besides.”
I was on my feet, hunched and losing blood, standing right beside him. And I had Solace in my hands. “Only the gods are eternal,” I told him. And I cut off Malcolm’s head.
I was the ward of a god, and not just any old god. By proxy, Fisher kind of was too.
In two days’ time, you officially become the new queen of Sanasroth.”
