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.

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

“I see. And here I was thinking that you’d changed your mind about Onyx.” I tried not to smile, too. I couldn’t tear my eyes from her. Gods, she was fucking beautiful. “Oh no,” I muttered softly. “I still think he’d made a great hat.”

“Well, I suppose if no one else is going to say it, then I will. You look downright fuckable, Saeris Fane.”

I let out a sigh, folding my arms across my chest. “Fisher.” His eyes came alive at the sound of my voice. “Hmm?” “Stop.” His nostrils flared, his jaw working. “I can’t help it if he doesn’t want to live.”

He looked up, his eyes locking with mine again, burning with a myriad of emotions as he slowly… carefully… parted the material of the dress along the slit to expose my bare thigh. Taladaius threw his hands in the air. “There’s no time for this!” “Oh, I don’t know. I think we might be able to spare a minute,” Carrion said.

“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.”

“You should leave Nimerelle here. They’ll see you carrying a weapon as an act of aggression.” “Good.” My mate’s expression went dark with the promise of violence. “It is.”

“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.”

“No,” I snapped. “If it isn’t mandated, then do not seek to make a spectacle of me.”

“He has a point,” Carrion said. “You shouldn’t even be here, Swift,” Fisher growled irritably. “Keep your opinions to yourself.”

You can own your fantasies with me, Little Osha. There is nothing in this realm or the next that I won’t give to you if you desire it. All you ever need do is ask.

“Don’t even think about it, or I’ll take you right here,” he panted. Holy. Fucking. Gods.

Suddenly, crushingly, the Hall of Tears had become beautiful.

Laughter burbled up out of Ereth, the sound a wet rattle. “You f-fool. W-we have different gods.”

“Do you have any experience with warfare?” Fisher demanded. “No, not really.” “Any experience whatsoever with necromancy?” “No.” “The walking dead?” “No.” “Blood curses?” “What do you think?” “Then you’re no use to us. Leave.”

“After the show you put on yesterday, Fisher,” he said, “he’ll probably be kidnapped and sold into slavery if he leaves this room alone.” “And we don’t want that to happen?”

He huffed as he made his way across the council chamber and reached out for my wrist— Kingfisher was suddenly there, angled in front of me. Surprisingly, his expression was blank. “Do you like having fingernails, Carrion?” he asked politely. “I—” Carrion gaped. “I do, actually.” “I thought so.” My mate said nothing more.

“He’ll be here any moment, and I… I wanted to ask you about your new hairstyle. What prompted the dramatic cut?” She stared at me blankly. “A burning corpse set me on fire.” Gods a-fucking-live. Perfect.

“I love you, and nothing else matters beyond that. Wherever you are, I’ll beg the gods and all the fates to let me be there, too,” I whispered.

“Yes,” he said roughly. And then, in the same breath, “No. Before, you smelled like fresh crushed leaves and the mountain air before a cold snap. A subtle hint of spices and citrus, and fire smoke.” I stared at his mouth, watching him speak, mesmerized. “And… now?” “Now, those scents are amplified a thousandfold. You smell like excitement. You smell like laughter. And peace. And love.”

“You taste like the end of the fucking world,” he purred. “Just kill me and be done with it. Nothing will ever be better than this.”

“Come now, Osha. Where else would an acolyte kneel to worship but at the altar of his god?”

Kingfisher of the Ajun Gate, slayer of the last dragon and Lord of Cahlish, obeyed me.

“Why do you look so pleased with yourself?” I teased. And Kingfisher laughed. “Because I am pleased with myself. Because I’m the luckiest bastard alive. And because you look like you’ve just been thoroughly fucked.”

“Don’t breathe another word,” I growled. “I’m not going to gossip about my romantic life with you like some sort of sheep herder.” He frowned. “Are sheep herders gossipmongers?” “Yes. You’d be surprised by the scandalous things bored sheep herders are privy to. Especially the ones in the foothills of the Shallow Mountains.”

“Fine. But I swear to the gods, if you talk the entire time, I will kill you and leave your carcass for the crows, Carrion Swift.”

“That wasn’t very polite,” I grumbled. “Oh, damn. I didn’t realize we were doing this to be polite. Sorry. Let me fix that.” He snapped his bare heels together, adopting a stiff-backed stance. With his chin lifted, he peered down his nose at me and fixed me with an imperious stare. “I challenge you to a duel, Saeris Fane. Would you please stab me with that shiny sword of yours? It would be such an honor.” “Fuck you, Lorreth.” He made a face. “You kiss my commander with that mouth?” “I’ve done far worse than kiss him with it.” His mouth pulled down at the corners, his eyes going wide. “Okay. I don’t need to hear about that, thank you very much.”

“You sound disappointed.” He shrugged, offering me a hand as I got back to my feet. “I mean, who doesn’t love a blood-soaked orgy?” “Can’t say I’ve ever participated in one.” He shrugged. “Not missing much, honestly. They get… sticky.” “Can we pause this super interesting conversation for just a moment? I think my shoulder’s dislocated.”

“The male was causing trouble,” Errigan muttered. Taladaius squinted sidelong at Lorreth. “Is that true?” “Yes.” “God—” He let out a frustrated huff. “Can’t you even pretend to lie, for pity’s sake?”

“Signs won’t do me much good if I can’t access the magic, Taladaius. They won’t do much good if these powers keep pouring into me and I explode and kill everybody in a forty-mile radius.” My maker snorted. “If that did happen, the blast zone would be more than forty miles. You’d probably destroy half of Yvelia. In fact, that much magic being unmade by itself would probably trigger a chain reaction that would unmake all magic. Everywhere. The whole realm would probably be—” “You’re. Not. Helping.”

“All right, then. Disavowed it is. No more maker and made bullshit for us.” The tide of Taladaius’s sadness broke for a moment, and I felt his relief rushing in. He accepted my hand and shook it. “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.”

Swift let out a panicked yelp and grabbed hold of my leather backplate, almost unbalancing both of us and sending us back into the pool. The Smart Mouth is not so smart now, it purred. The Smart Mouth sounds stupid.

“What’s happening? What can you see?” “Be quiet.” “What’s that smell?” “How the fuck should I know?” “Ow! Oh, oh shit, I’m standing on something soft.” “Pick up your fucking feet!” “Fisher? Fisher. Are we nearly at the door? Ow, what the hell was that? Something hit my arm really hard.” “It was my fist. Now shut. The fuck. Up.”

“Fisher, why are we sprinting straight for that window?” Three. He started to slow, but I grabbed him by the back of the armor Renfis had lent him, and I held on tight. Two. “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.

“Apologies, madam. We had a little argument with gravity. Looks like gravity won.”

“That smells like a sewer,” I observed, peering into the dark hole. Swift laughed. “It does. But you’ll be relieved to know that this is actually how the Hub’s supply of clean water is delivered. Delightful, right?”

The next few minutes were very annoying. I had Swift’s ass in my face for at least thirty seconds, which were thirty seconds I would have to remember to blot from my memory once all of this was done.

“All right.” I set my jaw, huffing unhappily. “Fine. Where is this old haunt of yours?” Swift leaped up from the wall, kicking up a cloud of powder-fine sand when he landed on the ground. He clapped, crowing. “You are going to love this place. They have this ale that, well, yes, it is distilled from rat urine, but—” “Carrion!” “I’m joking, I’m joking!” He held up his hands. Still grinning, he turned and started walking up the alley. “Seriously. Can’t you tell when someone’s joking, Fisher?”

“Ahh, the Third grows on you after a while.” I shot him an incredulous look. “Which part? The children starving in the streets? Or is it the hot beer?” “Isn’t beer supposed to be hot?” “No. No, it is not.” “Huh. I didn’t know that.”

“Where d’you—no,” Carrion sputtered. “Don’t you do it. Don’t you run!” The man ran.

“If I tell you where he is, I’m siding with you,” Shah gasped. “If I don’t tell you where he is, I’m siding with him. You’re both out of your godscursed minds. How am I supposed to decide which one of you to piss off?” “Oh, you should definitely piss off the one who isn’t here,” Carrion suggested. “Or the one who is here will rip out your fingernails.” “I—Yes, I can see the wisdom in that,”

“I’m not just going to kill him without questioning him first,” I said in a bored tone. “How will I know who sent him otherwise?” Disappointment flickered briefly in Algat’s cloudy eyes. “Then you’d better take that fabric out of his mouth, hadn’t you? What did you stuff in there? Wait. Are those my velvet gloves?”

Shah cackled. “This place is a tomb. No cracks in the walls. No holes in the floorboards. Joshin will come! Joshin will feed!” Ahh, fuck this. I wasn’t being eaten by another demon.

“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?

“No. Wait.” “This piece of shit is dying. Fisher. Now. Do not tell me you’re experiencing an uncharacteristic bout of mercy.”

“I am not dragging that melted carcass through the tunnels,” Swift said. “Stop talking, Carrion,” I rumbled. “The grown-ups are about to strike a bargain.”