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“What do you think I’m doing?” I snarled. “I’m saving the fucking fox!”
“Don’t fuck this up, Carrion!” “I won’t!” He took up position next to me, adopting a readying stance, and I was struck with a flicker of surprise. The footwork was there. Almost. And when the ravening feeders fell upon us, he didn’t immediately die. Shocking.
There isn’t much I wouldn’t sacrifice to make you happy, Osha.
They were similar in many ways. But where my mate was all darkness and quiet brooding, Taladaius was light, his mood often easier than it had any reason to be. There were counterweights, perhaps. Different sides to the same coin? But also different currencies. Vampire. Fae. Maker. Mate.
I’m here because my mate is here. Where she goes, I go.
We already discovered I was immune to the effects of both silver and iron. Perhaps it was that I wasn’t entirely one thing—neither wholly vampire nor Fae. Perhaps it was that I was an Alchemist on top of everything else, and I still had an affinity for metals.
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.
“Can you—look, can you just behave yourself out there?” I murmured under my breath. He looked bemused, the faintest hint of a dimple forming in his right cheek. “I can,” he answered. “I can’t promise that I will.”
My first instinct was to apologize for the interruption, but a queen did not apologize.
He had no idea who I was or what I was capable of and, therefore, had no clue what heinous crimes I would commit to ensure my mate’s safety.
I waited for Fisher to refuse the suggestion, but when I saw his dark scowl, I realized that he wasn’t going to shoot down Carrion’s plan after all. He looked like he wanted to murder him.
“Fuck you, Lorreth.” He made a face. “You kiss my commander with that mouth?” “I’ve done far worse than kiss him with it.”
“Eight thousand cröna, Errigan? For a bottle of wine and a repair to a table?” “Compounding interest, Lord! The Faeling left the debt unpaid for centuries!”
“No more maker and made bullshit,” he agreed. “But how about… friends?” I grinned, because the vampire who had saved me, who was at least fifteen hundred years older than me and had half of Ammontraíeth pissing in their pants whenever he walked lest he turn their blood to smoke, actually seemed nervous. “I think I’d like that.” At that, he returned my grin. “In that case, you’d better call me Tal.”
I led the way through the melee, deflecting any stray arrows that chanced to sail in our direction, and all the while, Carrion yammered away in my ear.
Ow, what the hell was that? Something hit my arm really hard.” “It was my fist. Now shut. The fuck. Up.”
Lorreth had called his god sword Avisiéth. A fine, strong name for a sword. Carrion had called his Simon. Maybe that name meant something impressive in Zilvaren, but as far as I had been able to glean thus far, it did not.
“Pick up your fucking feet, Your Highness,” I snarled. One. I threw him out of the window. Howling, dry wind ripped at my clothes as I launched out of the damned thing after him. “Fuck you, Fisher!” Even hurtling toward the ground at a rate of knots, the smuggler still didn’t shut up.
The face stamped into the coin had been regal and proud. The face of Rurik Daianthus. It took me by surprise, in that moment, that Carrion Swift bore a striking resemblance to his father.
All libraries contained magic. Even libraries that didn’t specialize in such things. Because what was a book, if not a portal into another realm, another time, another life even.
But cats did not make good pets, as far as I was concerned. They couldn’t be trusted.
“Hate to be… a bother,” Carrion wheezed. “But if you’re not in a position to… save me right… now, then… could you possibly kill me instead? This… really sucks.” Gods, how was he still talking? I couldn’t even think.
Carrion straightened, looking up at the ceiling as he thought about this. “Umm. Yeah, I kinda need my tongue.” He took a deep breath and then sighed it back out. “People do seem to like it.” I almost laughed. Almost. Gods, I was losing my mind. The male was ridiculous.
I love Saeris Fane, because she’s electric, and fierce, and loyal, and being around her brings the world back into focus. But I’m not in love with her, Fisher. I tried. But my heart was just too full of sorrow to make room for her.”
“I wasn’t thinking anything!” I protested. “I just touched your ankle!” “Hey, it’s okay. Some people have a thing for feet. And mine aren’t as hairy as most people’s.”
I think I know what my mate looks like, Lorreth.” A sneaky little smile hovered over his lips. “Wanna hit me yet?” he asked. “Yes. I do, actually. You know what? Fine. Let’s go train.”
A tavern will always have a broom, Saeris. A mop. Something with a long handle. It’s smart to know how to utilize the items you have around you, lest you need to come to a grumpy friend’s rescue.”
“I kind of had some other things going on at the time. Y’know, trying to make sure my brother and I didn’t die of dysentery.”
“Y’know, sarcasm is a form of humor. The lowest, basest form, yes, but it still counts. If you’re not careful, I’ll start to think I’m rubbing off on you.”
Like the fine sand that constantly battered the city’s walls, Carrion Swift was slowly wearing me down.
I turned away from the boy; he was too fucking stupid to deal with directly. “Fix this, Carrion. I’m out of patience.”
Because you’re starting to sound like a petulant, spoiled little shit who hasn’t had to deal with hardship a day in his fucking life.” Hayden’s eyes rolled back into his head. He passed out.
The look Carrion gave me spoke volumes. “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?”
Try not to cause a scene. But I wasn’t liking that plan very much anymore. No. That plan was no longer viable. Because boy oh fucking boy, was I going to cause a fucking scene.
He scowled at Carrion. “You were blind not to have noticed it.” “Hey, I had no experience with magic. I felt something, I guess, but I just thought she was hot.” He winced in my direction, making a face. “Sorry.”
it was hard to unspeak words sometimes. Especially when there was a grain of truth in them.
“In Ammontraíeth, is it considered incest if you sleep with your maker? ’Cause it sounds to me like someone was fucking Daddy.”
I wasn’t humming to the fox. That would have been weird. I just liked the song, and I had a feeling he did, too.
Ahh, the beauty of the fine print. Even in a rush and dancing on death’s doorstep, there was always a way to swing a bargain in your favor if you paid close attention to the details.
“IT’S CALLED BRIMSTONE. It isn’t like our blood, exactly. It is what keeps a fire sprite alive, though,” Lorreth said.
“It’s an element, really. Brimstone. A kind of magic all on its own. It gives the fire sprites life.” “And it kills the rot,” Carrion said.
So we’re still fucked. Yes. Gods, I need a drink.
“I didn’t bring you with me to those places, because I didn’t want life to be hard for you like it was for me. But I see now that I’ve done you a disservice. You have this… this fucking illusion that life should be easy, that it owes you something, and that’s on me.”
She had known everything, then. Seen everything. It was all here: a map to surviving the chaos and the pain that lay ahead.
“A part of loving me is yielding sometimes.” “You want my obedience?” I slipped my hand back between her thighs, my fingers teasing circles over the bud of sensitive nerve endings I found there. “No, Osha. I want your trust.”
And for the rest of the night, anyone who comes within five feet of you will scent the orgasm I’m about to give to you.” Yes, it was primal. Yes, it was petty. No, it was not very progressive of me to want to mark her in this way. I didn’t fucking care.
“Don’t say I never give you flowers, Osha.”
“Behold! Saeris Fane, first of her name. Scion of no one. Rise for your queen!”
“May she be the last monarch this court sees!” Tal shouted, snatching a glass up from a passing thrall’s tray. “May she overcome all, for the glory of this holy court. May she usher in a new era and a new beginning for the people of Sanasroth! To Queen Saeris!” The toast was a confusing one. Had any of the vampires present been faintly sober, they might have questioned Tal’s unusual tribute,
Fucking Zovena. I was going to ash her one of these days and wear her fangs as fucking earrings.
