Quicksilver (Fae & Alchemy, #1)

by Callie Hart

told my guards that you were the one who reopened the portal. It seems highly unlikely that a human woke the quicksilver.” He grunted, displeased. “But after a thousand years of waiting, we can’t afford to dismiss this as heresy without checking first. Believe me when I say that we’re all praying such a holy position hasn’t fallen to such unholy blood.” He inhaled sharply. “But the fates are strange. And one way or another, I will have the portals restored.”

“You’re charged with awakening the quicksilver and reopening the pathways between this world and others. Your cooperation in that task will dictate how you spend your time in Yvelia. Rail against your purpose and life within the walls of this palace will become infinitely more uncomfortable for you. I have spoken.”

“Who’s Clements?” “The king’s royal archivist. He’s been receiving a royal stipend for the past two hundred years or so, charged with figuring out how the Alchemists used to activate the quicksilver. A handsome stipend if I recall correctly. Looks to me like he pissed it all up a wall, though, ’cause this place is a fucking disaster.”

“Well, let’s start at the beginning, then. The quicksilver pools are pathways that connect different realms. I’m sure you’ve figured as much.” “Yes.” “The quicksilver itself is volatile. Some of our elders believe it possesses a low level of sentience. Whether this is true or not doesn’t really matter. The stuff is dangerous. If the quicksilver comes into contact with bare skin…” Kingfisher trailed off. “It was in Harron’s dagger, wasn’t it?” I asked.

“It was an ancient blade. Alchemists used to forge quicksilver into weaponry for Fae warriors. Harron had no business touching that weapon, let alone claiming it.” “It made him see things, I think. When it touched his skin, he started screaming.”

“Oh, he saw things all right. The quicksilver will push any living creature beyond the boundaries of sanity.”

“So, these Alchemists. They inherited their abilities? It’s about blood?” “Everything is about blood, human.

“My mother gave me this pendant, this relic,” he clarified, “when I was eleven. The night before we left for the Winter Palace. She knew I’d have need of it. Later, when I came of age and joined Belikon’s army, I was called upon to travel between Yvelia and the other realms because my pendant was one of the most powerful. To cut a very long and boring story short, I was forced to travel a pathway without it once. The quicksilver took me, just as it takes everyone. A healer managed to draw most of it from me once I made it back to the Winter Palace, but I was left with a few...lasting reminders. Most Fae only wore their relics when they traveled from one realm to the next. But wearing mine is the only thing that calms the noise in my head.

His eye. That was his lasting reminder? It had to be. The filaments that marked his jade iris were actually remnants of quicksilver. Gods. It was inside him, always there, always whispering in his ear, pushing him toward madness. The relic really was the only thing keeping him sane.

“You haven’t been paying attention, human. Yvelia is at war, and war machines are hungry beasts. They require constant feeding. Food. Clothes. Gold. Building supplies. Weaponry. Before Madra drove that sword into her pool, stilling every pool in every realm, Belikon used the pathways for supplies. It was the only way to trade in many magical items. When the pathways closed, the door to our supply trains slammed closed, too. You shouldn’t have been able to touch that sword, let alone draw it. And the silver responded to you. You activated it. You did what only an Alchemist can do. So, no. Human or not, I could not have just left you there to die.”

“Elroy swears that a man will lie about the size of his cock every time a woman asks him.” Kingfisher stilled. “Are you asking me how big my cock is, Osha?” “I don’t care how big it is. I care about the way you answer.” A slow, terrifying smirk spread across his face. “It’s big enough to make you scream and then some.” “See.” I jabbed a finger at him. “You’re not going to be honest.” He looked around the forge, feigning confusion. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure that I understand your meaning.” “Ask a man how big his dick is, and he’ll show you that he’s full of shit.” “Maybe. But I’m not a man. I’m a Fae male.” He paused. “And maybe I’m just well-endowed.” “Or maybe you’re just wasting my time, and we should get on with whatever you’re going to attempt to teach me here,” I snapped. Kingfisher’s hands moved to the back of his neck. It took him all of four seconds to unfasten his gorget and slide the silver plate free. “Maybe the issue is that you asked me a question about my cock like a hungry little bitch in heat and didn’t ask me something that mattered.”

My mother was married to a Southern lord before she married my father. She had Fisher with her first husband. When Fisher was ten, the king sent his father on a mission to Zilvaren. He never returned. That’s when the gateways were stilled. The king said that Finran, Fisher’s father, was responsible for the quicksilver stilling and declared him a traitor to the Fae—” “Wait. Kingfisher said that Madra was responsible for stilling the quicksilver.” Everlayne’s expression became troubled. “And that might be true. Fisher has certainly never believed his father was responsible. But without any proof to the contrary, Belikon announced that Finran was to blame. Less than a year later, Belikon announced his engagement to my mother. By all accounts, she was surprised, given that she’d never even met the king, but Belikon made it clear that marrying him was the only way for her to prove that she wasn’t a traitor to the crown, too.

He looked down at himself, his mouth twisting into a cold smile when he caught me looking at his upgraded armor. “You like it?” he purred. “I figured some extra protection was in order this morning since you’re now given to hurling yourself at me like some kind of rabid feline.”

His tongue darted out between his lips, his blood staining the very tip of it, and I found myself being flashed by a pair of wickedly sharp canines. The sight of them sent a thrill of panic-tinged intrigue through me. Heat rose up from the pit of my stomach, my blood rushing to my cheeks. Kingfisher’s gaze snapped up, singling in on mine. “Careful, human. We Fae have an excellent sense of smell. You’d be amazed what we can scent floating on the air.”

The moment had been fleeting. I hadn’t even meant to think it. I despised Kingfisher. I was not attracted to him. I was not thinking about his tongue or his teeth… He set down the piece of bread and meat he was holding and sat back in his chair very slowly. His expression was suddenly serious, his eyes alert, his voice low and smooth as velvet. “You’re making it worse.”

“I’m also a fan of aggressive foreplay. It’ll be a fun reminder.”

I breathed in sharply, inhaling cheese. Choking and spluttering, I tried desperately to get rid of it, but it wasn’t going anywhere. Kingfisher leaned forward, his tongue running over his teeth again. He smiled suggestively as he said, “Swallow.”

Well, they just fixed their intentions on the place. Focused very hard, apparently. If they wanted to explore somewhere new, they’d think of the kind of place they wanted to go to. If they wanted to discover a place rich in iron ore, for example, they’d think about iron ore and let the quicksilver pull them to a place that had plenty of iron ore. It was a very simple system. Flawed, of course. On a number of occasions, an Alchemist thought of the kind of place they wanted to go and stepped into a pool, never to be seen again. A group went searching for hydrogen once. That busybody Archivist Clements postulated that the quicksilver delivered them right into the center of a star somewhere. Load of utter nonsense if you ask me…”

I took notes about the Sanasrothian pool, located at the center of their rival court’s council halls. I recorded the locations of two other pools in two other courts, as well. The Gilarian, the Fae in the mountains to the east, kept their pool in a hall perched upon the highest peak of their domain. It was reported that the pool belonging to the Lìssians, the seafaring Fae who lived upon a southern island, was located deep in a sea cave and was almost as large as the Yvelian pool, though that had never been confirmed, the Lìssians regarding it as their most sacred place of worship.

“You could at least say hello before you start eye-fucking me.” “I wasn’t eye-fucking you. I was trying to see through all of this… steam.” I wafted my hand for effect, but the air was clear, there was no steam, and Kingfisher did not look impressed.

“It’s Saeris. My name. Call me that or nothing at all.” He cast an amused look over his shoulder, his lips parted a fraction, exposing the briefest glimpse of teeth. “Nothing at all? I like the sound of that. Come here and look at this, Nothing At All.”

“For centuries, our kind has tried to understand how the relics that allow us to travel through the quicksilver were made. There have been many theories over the years, but that’s all they’ve ever been. Theories. With the quicksilver sleeping, we haven’t been able to experiment or put any of those theories to the test. But now that you’re here…” “You want me to wake the quicksilver so you can try and bind things to it and see if you can make a relic out of it.”

“You’re using bone to see if fusing the quicksilver with biological material will trick the pool into thinking the living creature passing through it is a part of it?”

“And a pair of boots with really good soles. Do you have any idea what those boots cost me?” “Let me guess. Your virginity.” “Fuck you, Fisher.” “Sure.” He smirked. “But I’m afraid I don’t have any new boots to trade you for your time.”

He was beautiful. Looking at him made me feel like I couldn’t catch my breath. “If you want it, come here and touch it,” he rumbled. Holy. Fucking. Gods.

“I’ve fucked plenty of humans,” he whispered. “Does that surprise you?” “Yes. Seeing as how you… seem to hate us… so much.” His mouth. Gods, his fucking mouth. I needed to look away. I had to. “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.” I was burning alive. I was a living torch, blazing out of control. “I wouldn’t fuck you—if you were the last living—” “Don’t bother.” The words held bite. “Lying is pointless with your heart betraying you so loudly.”

“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.”

“Aren’t you curious? Don’t you want to know what I taste like?”

“If you try to punch me again, I’ll tie your hands behind your fucking back,”

“Because you’re intrigued. Because you’re bored. Because you’re super fucking aroused right now, and you want to follow through on whatever little fantasies are playing out in your head.”

“Careful,” he panted. “I swore I’d be still while you kissed me. At no point did I promise to exercise restraint if you climbed up into my lap and started grinding yourself against my cock.”

“I didn’t say I minded. But for next time, that’s where the line is. You want to cross it, I’ll happily join you on the other side. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

you’d stepped foot in that pool.” I glared at him defiantly. “Not with the ring.” “That ring isn’t a relic. It’s a trinket and nothing more. It wouldn’t have protected you.” “It shielded you when you brought me through the pool!” “No. It didn’t,” he said icily. “Of course it fucking didn’t.” “You told Layne—” “I told Layne I was wearing it. Nothing more. Whatever she inferred from that is her own undoing.”

“I go and I try to get your brother. You help me and assist me in any way I ask you to, and you do as you’re told. You agree to this pact?” I nodded. “Yes.” “You understand that this is a blood oath? And you will be bound by this oath until death?” “Yes! Gods, I understand! I agree. Just get on with—” Kingfisher slapped his palm against mine and held on tight.

“Our deal stands,” Kingfisher snapped, stooping to pick up Carrion. He threw the lifeless black-market trader over his shoulder like he weighed nothing. Fisher glared at me with the intensity of a thousand suns. “I hate that fucking place, but I went there for you. I got stabbed seven times in various parts of my body. For you. This prick said he was Hayden. His blood said he was Hayden. I did what I said I was going to do. Now move. We’re getting the hell out of here.”

“My father and Belikon had a long history. He saw what Belikon was planning long before he murdered the royal family and stole the crown for himself. He took precautions and warded his lands so that neither Belikon nor any of his supporters could cross into them. He was powerful, and his wards were strong. They remain as solid as ever. Belikon can travel to the borders of Cahlish, but he can’t enter. As long as I live and carry on my father’s line, he never will.”

“The last time he laid his hands on a sword of note, he used it to murder the true king and the whole fucking Daianthus line. If Rurik Daianthus—” “As you just pointed out, Rurik Daianthus is gone. There’s no point playing a game of ‘if only’ where he’s concerned. Belikon is the king. And like it or not, as king, he can claim whatever the hell he wants to claim. The god swords are all dead. They’re paperweights now. Belikon couldn’t do any more damage with it than he could do with an ordinary sword. You should have just let him add it to his collection. What harm would it have done?”

“That sword is a holy fucking relic, Renfis. That bastard isn’t fit to look upon it let alone wield it. I’ll die before I allow Belikon to wear it on his hip. And you’re wrong. Not all of the swords are dormant. Nimerelle—”

“So, taking it had nothing to do with the fact that Solace was your father’s blade? No. No, forget I even asked. I already know that’s the truth of it. As for your sword, Nimerelle has been corrupted for years,”

“Nimerelle is the only thing that’s stood between Yvelia and ever-lasting darkness for the past four hundred fucking years!”

“Are you thinking about running? Gods, I hope so. I’ll give you a head start if you like. It’s been an age since I’ve hunted anything.”

“Anyone can use any old relic in a pinch, but relics are most powerful when they’re forged from something important to its owner. These are the family rings of the warriors who fight for me. Each one has great meaning to the male or female it belongs to. You are going to take each and every one of these rings, and you’re going to turn them into relics.” “Fisher, no! There are nearly…” I was good with numbers, but I was too stunned to think straight, let alone perform multiplications. I got there in the end. “There are nearly fifteen thousand rings here! Do you have any idea how long it would take to melt down each of these rings and cast it into another one?” “Years, I’m sure. But don’t worry. We’re not looking for a pretty piece of jewelry. You’ll melt down the ring, transmute its properties so that it will shield the wearer against the quicksilver, then cast it into something simple like this.” He hooked his finger around his chain and drew out the pendant he wore around his own neck.

“If there’s a stone or some kind of engraving on the ring, you’ll find a way to incorporate that into the medallion you make. Other than that, it should be pretty straightforward.”

“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—”

“For the record, I’d never use an injury as an excuse to sneak my way into a bed,” Fisher said. His voice was even closer now. I could almost feel the brush of his lips against the shell of my ear. “I’ve never had a problem securing myself an invite.”

“Mm. You’re right. I don’t think you will invite me. When the time comes, I think you’ll beg—”

Carrion nodded. “That night, before you had dinner with him, actually. You’d already left for the dining room. He showed up with these in his hand and said he’d give them to me on one condition.” “Which was?” Carrion snagged a grape from the tray and popped it into his mouth. “That I take a bath.” “A bath?” “Yes, a bath.” “That’s a weird request.” “I know. Even after being kidnapped, dragged into a different realm, and carted for miles on the back of a horse, I still smelled great. But he was all wound up about not liking the way I smelled, so I figured fuck it. Whatever. A bath for a new pair of boots was a fair trade. And it felt great to soak in all of that hot water. Strange, right? All of that water? I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that there’s just so much…” He prattled on, but the bite of toast I’d just taken had turned claggy, like glue. “He said he didn’t like the way you smelled?” “Yes, and he was very rude about it. He had a bunch of sprites come in and scrub me with these stiff brushes until I was raw and pink all over. I swear they took off four layers of skin. They put this thick white clay all over me then and let it sit so long that it went hard, and they had to crack it to get it all off.”

“And then,” he said, taking another grape. “They rubbed me down with this special kind of moss, which is where things got interesting. They paid particular attention to my…” His eyes trailed down his body until they rested in his crotch. I raised my eyebrows at him. “You let a fire sprite jerk you off with a handful of Fae moss?”

“You’ve been in Yvelia for five seconds, and you’ve already had a foursome with a different species of magical creature?”

“I’m not sure,” he said. “None of us are. All we know is that when the god swords went silent and abandoned the rest of the Fae who carried them, Nimerelle stayed. At a cost. The blade used to shine brilliant silver. As the centuries have passed, it’s blackened and tarnished. But Nimerelle has stayed. The spirit of that sword or the magic inside it, whatever you choose to believe it is, has stayed. No matter what, it’s never left him.”