Quicksilver (Fae & Alchemy, #1)

by Callie Hart

It isn't disease that's contagious in my ward, Captain. It's dissent.

Kingfisher's suggestion of a smile grew wings and took flight. “Clever girl.”

But, of all the beautiful things I had seen, Fisher was the most beautiful of all.

“That your body is betraying you in other ways. That I can smell you, Little Osha, and I'm thinking about drinking the sweet nectar you're making for me straight from the fucking cup.”

I hated this male. Hated him with every fiber of my being. But curse me, I wanted him just as bad.

“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—”

Fuck me. That smile. Slightly open-mouthed, flashing the smallest hint of pointed teeth. I had to be so, so careful around that smile. It would wreck me if I let it.

“Such a pretty flower, blooming just for me,”

“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.”

Ruin me.

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

“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.”

“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.”

My soul was on fire, and I didn't care if I burned for all eternity. So long as I was burning with him, then so be it.

“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 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.”