Brimstone (Fae & Alchemy, #2)

by Callie Hart

Emotions painted the blood. Happiness. Anger. Sorrow. Lust. Each gave off its own energy.

Humans were not good at taming their feelings. They felt everything so rudely, right out in the open, with no awareness of how their reactions might affect those with finer senses.

“They’re going to… destroy her, you know? It has already… been seen. This court will… fall… with her inside it.”

And he could have his reasons, so long as none of them involved him harboring any sort of hope that Saeris was going to confess her undying love for him. That wasn’t happening.

panted. “What do you think I’m doing?” I snarled. “I’m saving the fucking fox!”

“And the day you save me on a battlefield, I’ll put on a dress and dance a fucking jig.”

“Never doubt your powers, sweet one,” she’d told me. “Each one of them is a gift. Each one will prove exactly enough when you have need of it. Have faith in yourself. You will always be enough.”

“Don’t you know? There isn’t much I wouldn’t sacrifice to make you happy, Osha. A little healing magic is the least of it.”

“Fear will be your undoing out there,” the vampire gritted out. “If you’re worried about her, even for a second, they will know, and they’ll leap at the opportunity to tear you down because of it. Weaken her claim. Cast her out—”

“If any of them even look sideways at you, you stick that straight in their chests.” “I know how a dagger works, Fisher.” Most couples flirted by making eyes at each other or complimenting each other’s outfits. We did it by discussing how best to murder our enemies.

“Your father was felled by his own hubris. He was too arrogant. He believed himself invincible, and I had the pleasure of showing him otherwise. A god sword will make worm food out of any of us, no matter who wields it. But, regardless,” I called in a clear voice. “I am no child. My name is Saeris Fane, and I am your queen.”

The old woman is Algat, Keeper of Records. She was a witch once. Cast out by her own clan for meddling in dark magics. She might look like the oldest of the Lords, but she’s actually the youngest. I had cause to deal with her once or twice before she transitioned. Pure evil runs through her veins, Little Osha. Do not underestimate her.

Even before he’d transitioned, Tal had been able to manipulate most liquids. All liquids, in fact, apart from quicksilver.

“She is… anathema. Cursed,” he choked out. “The g-gods denounce… her.”

There were too many ifs to comprehend. They bombarded me, crushing me under a barrage of all-too-real possibilities while I desperately clung to the promise I had made to have faith. But having faith was like trying to remember a language I had once known as a child. No, it was worse. It was like trying to run with broken legs. My legs could not carry me right now, and so I was dragging myself along on my hands and knees, the word faith a boot on the back of my neck, shoving me down into the dirt.

“Does this mean the two of you are going to… y’know.” He seemed to be struggling to get the words out. “Will you perform the rites now? Get married?” A jolt of adrenaline zipped up my spine. I shoved away from the table, quickly rolling down my shirtsleeves, covering the ink. “No. We won’t be doing that,” I clipped out. “She’s not—”

“Why do you always defend him!” Ren brought his fist crashing down on the table. His shout echoed off the walls of the war room. His pallor had turned from ash to a furious red. “At every turn, you deny what’s staring you right in the face. He abandoned you. He left you over a thousand years ago. He willingly chose to leave us all and go with Malcolm. How do you think he is still walking the realm, hmm? The only way he is still here, proving to be a thorn in all our sides, is because he feeds from the living. He is everything we despise, and yet every time something like this happens, you make excuses for him.”

The oak tree had been there for as long as I could remember, tall and proud despite the cold. Now, its trunk was shriveled, its bark sloughing off in thick slabs. From its roots to the tips of its branches, it festered with slimy mushrooms. The charred, headless bodies of the feeders struggled against their ropes, trying to wrestle free, but thankfully their restraints held true.

The feeders are killing the tree.

“Well, I mean, I haven’t spent a great deal of time studying feeders, but—” He shoved another slice of apple into his mouth as he bent over the rotting heads, squinting at them. At least he finished chewing before he finished his sentence. “From what I can recall, they normally come from Yvelia, right?” “Yes, of course,” Lorreth answered. “Well, these ones are from Zilvaren.”

Be under no illusion, Little Osha. You are all I can smell.

“They told you. About the rot,” she said in a clear voice. “They told you it would come. It’s here, now. You must find the book in order to stop it. Without it, the decay will spread until it swallows this realm and millions more with it. I have seen it, Saeris. Find the book. Stop the spread. It’s the only way.”

“Oh, we still need them,” I said. Everyone looked at me again. “We need them even more than we did before. The feeders at the river yesterday shouldn’t have been able to disobey my edict, and yet they did.” “Because they were infected by the rot,” Ren said, slowly. His shoulders slumped, his face falling. “And the rot is spreading. If the horde at Ammontraíeth becomes infected…”

I crouched down in front of it, closer than I would have liked, clenching my jaw as its half-formed head whipped around to face me. “You can smell me, yes?” I asked. The demon snapped its jaws. “Then tell me, Joshin. You filled me with enough venom to take down three horses… but do you scent any fear on me? Do you think I am afraid to face my demons? I’ve faced them before. I know them all by name. I’ve conquered them and bent them to my will more times than the sun has risen over Yvelia in my lifetime. I’ll face your nightmares if I have to, and I will still be the most frightening thing prowling around in the dark.”

“Let me bite you,” I whispered. “No, Nissarhin.” His voice was so rough. He shook his head.

Carrion threw the cloth he was holding onto the table beside him. “The injustice! You dream of your girlfriend, you’re healed by her, get laid, and wake up brand-spanking-new. Meanwhile, I dream that I’d been turned into a goat, and I wake up with a mouth drier than the glass flats, covered in suspect pox marks!”

“I see a male longing for a place and a people he has never known,” I said simply. “That’s all.” I gave him the drawing as I passed him, leaving his room. “You should keep hold of that, Carrion,” I told him. “Bring it home with you.”

“It’s very simple, Fisher. If you treat me like I’m the court jester, I’ll be the court jester. If I’m the laughingstock, or the drunk, or the idiot, then you’re not thinking about who I really am, are you. I survived here for over a thousand years. Do you really think I’d have been able to do that if I couldn’t pull myself out of a fucking hole? If at any point, you underestimate me…” He smirked, arching a dark copper eyebrow. “Then I’d say that was your mistake rather than mine. Wouldn’t you?”

Up ahead, a phalanx of guardians was proceeding down the tight street, keeping close formation. The pale green glow of the evenlight torches they carried barely cut through the shadows. They shouldn’t have even had evenlight here.

This pathway is clear, the speaker declared. Receive this gift all in fear and trembling. In the end, it will be your end.

“I still don’t know what the writing means. The engraving is in Old Fae. The one on the right with the abalone inlay in the hilt says Erromar. The one on the left with the ivory inlay says Selanir.” Fisher angled his head, frowning as he read the inscriptions on both swords. He nodded, smiling softly. “Erromar means mercy,” he said, in a reverent voice. “Selanir means honor.” “Huh. Mercy

“Every part. I love all of you.” He blew a dark curl out of his eyes. “I’d spend the fortunes of the universe to protect you. I’d drain the seas dry. Fell every tree. I would sacrifice the sun from the fucking sky and surrender the stars, too, if I could. But those things aren’t mine to give. All I have is my life. It isn’t much, but I’d spend it and consider the price small if it meant keeping you safe.”

Let him come to Ammontraíeth. That was the thought I was going to send to Fisher… but I didn’t get the chance. “Shut up, Carrion,” Fisher said. “You’re coming with us.”

Oh ho ho, boy. She wanted to play. “I suppose I have you to thank for that honorific, Zovena. Is the name supposed to upset me? Because, personally, I’m rather proud of that accomplishment. Tell me,” I said, before she could reply. “In Ammontraíeth, is it considered incest if you sleep with your maker? ’Cause it sounds to me like someone was fucking Daddy.”

It would take violence, but I was okay with that. If it was violence these monsters understood, then I would give it to them. I could be violent if I had to be. I could be cruel.

I know you, Saeris Fane. Even as a fragile human, you were strong. Independent. It would have crushed your spirit if I had sheltered you from this world. Your choices had to be your own. I saw that in the end. I see it now, too. Every day. You have a right to walk the road that stretches out before you. I will not rob you of your path by insisting I carry you.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. “This?” I held up my hand, showing my runes. “This was from you?” “Indeed. You will have to work for most of your runes, but some of them may come as gifts. And this one was gifted just in the nick of time, wouldn’t you agree?” “What does it do? What does it mean? I can’t find a translation for it anywhere.” “And you won’t. It is blasphemy to record such things on paper, King Killer. The rune is my name. It does not grant you magic, the same way other runes do. The ability my rune grants you is complicated. It allows you to… undo. Or maybe…”

get the feeling that the two of you will have found a way to put a stop to all of this by tomorrow night, anyway. You’re each as stubborn as the other when it comes to getting your way.” He wasn’t wrong there. The outlines of a plan were forming in my mind. It was a long shot, and by all the gods was it dangerous, but if it worked… Saeris would be safe. The realm would be safe, at least for a little while. The mess I would have to create would be catastrophic. Sometimes, the cure was more dangerous than the affliction, but at least it would buy us some time…

“Kingfisher of the Ajun Gate, I hereby call you by your true name. I declare all oaths you have sworn null and void. Rise, Khydan Graystar Finvarra, in honor of the name you were given at birth! Rise up and fight!”