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This bastard would shit himself if he realized he had the Saeris Fane in his grasp.
Sometimes, objects shook around me. Objects made of iron, tin, or gold.
Do you know much about metalwork, Captain? I do. It’s under the most unbearable conditions that the sharpest, most dangerous weapons are forged. And we are dangerous, Captain. She’s turned us all into weapons. That is why she won’t suffer my people to live.”
My vision was going at last. Blackness crept in, rolling before my eyes like a midnight fog. Only it wasn’t a fog. It was something else. It was… Death. The bastard had come to claim me in person.
I had known Death’s voice to be a howling hot wind across the parched desert. A wet, hacking cough in the night. The urgent cry of a starving baby. I had never for one moment imagined his voice might also be the stroke of velvet in the ever-encroaching darkness.
Of course Death was beautiful. How else would anyone choose to go with him without putting up a fight?
Not to mention the fact that there are still rumors floating around that the Daianthus heir is in Zilvaren somewhere.
Everlayne had been waiting for me when I returned to my room yesterday. She hadn’t banked on Kingfisher kicking in my bedroom door, me thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and wailing like a banshee. Nor had she expected his ultra-foul temper, his split bottom lip, or the thin line of blood trickling down his chin. She’d squawked when he’d thrown me unceremoniously down onto my bed and snarled, “Bad human,” at me.
“Careful, human. We Fae have an excellent sense of smell. You’d be amazed what we can scent floating on the air.”
“I don’t hate your kind. I’m just disappointed by how breakable you are. If I held you down and fucked you the way I’m imagining fucking you right now, I doubt that you’d survive it.”
“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.”
Kingfisher just stared at me. “Find out.”
“I’ll happily kiss all of your aches and pains better for you once we strike camp. I’ve been told my mouth has healing properties. Especially when administered between a pair of thighs.”
I was hit with a wave of his scent, all cold dawn morning and the promise of snow, and my breath caught in my throat. I ignored the reaction, forcing myself to think about everyone suffering in the Third instead.
“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—”
“Mm. You’re right. I don’t think you will invite me. When the time comes, I think you’ll beg—”
I was going to shank him in the neck with my very dull butter knife. Then he’d see how proficient I was with a blade.
“Witch,” he accused. “You do have magic.”
“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.”
“On the wrong side of the Darn, baying for the blood of their own fucking children,” he said bitterly. “Or else they’ve abandoned their homes and moved away, where they won’t have the entire Sanasrothian horde kicking down their front doors in the middle of the night. A hundred and ten years. I left them for a hundred and ten years. Ren and the others did everything they could to stem the tide. It’s not their fault. I was supposed to be here to protect them. I failed them. So I don’t deserve to be called Lord of Cahlish. I am lord of nothing.”
“It’s fucking outrageous that he can sing, too.” Carrion had woken up and was stood to my right, arms folded across his chest, balefully regarding Lorreth. “That was nice, though. Messed up, but nice.”
“I was wrong, y’know. You are a good thief.” “What have I stolen?” But he smiled a small, sad smile, slowly shaking his head. “Sleep a little. The water will stay warm. I’ll be back as soon as I’ve spoken to Ren.”
“Be unrelenting and unmerciful in the face of the wicked dead,” Fisher said. Ren laid a steadying hand on my shoulder. “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.”
If I lived another thousand years and never saw that dead-faced male again, it’d still be too soon.
But Fisher said, in a very calm tone, “My personal life isn’t up for public discussion.”
“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.”
And that I’d love you with a fierceness despite myself.”
“Nobody will ever fuck you the way I’m about to fuck you, Saeris Fane. I’m about to introduce you to all seven gods. When you meet them, don’t forget to tell them I’m the one you worship on your knees.” Out. Fucking. Loud.
“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?”
“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.”
“I play back,” Fisher spat. “It might not be today, but oh, I am coming to find you, Madra. Fear the shadows, bitch. I’m made of them. One night soon, I’ll climb out of one and slit your fucking throat.”
Malcolm stared up at the stands in dismay. “No. This isn’t… my children. They were to be my army. You… you took them from me!” He rounded on me, but I wasn’t where he’d left me. 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.
