Quicksilver

Don’t call her Sunshine,” he commanded. “Why not?” If Carrion’s plan was to poke the bear, then he sure as hell knew how to go about it. But Kingfisher didn’t respond to the taunting note in his question. He just cocked his head a little, nostrils flaring, and spoke in a low rumble. “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.

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.

I'll be grateful for every second that I can say that I belong to you, Saeris Fane. Eighty years or eighteen hours. It doesn't matter to me. It'll still be the highest honor of my life.

I don't want bright and happy,” he whispered roughly. “I want real.

For those who live their nightmares,so that others may have their dreams.

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.

Fuck the fates. They don’t get to decide shit for me. I decide what my future is going to be.

She has a mind and a mouth of her own. I am the keeper of neither.

He is the storm. You are the peace that must come after it. Tell me, do you believe in the fates, Alchemist?

Human, Fae, or Vampire. It doesn’t matter how long you live, Saeris, you will always be most sacred to me.

That’s what Oshellith means in Old Fae, Saeris. Most Sacred.

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?

Urgh! Do you have to be so difficult?”His eyes danced. “It isn’t mandatory, but I do enjoy it.

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.

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.

I’ll be grateful for every second that I can say I belong to you, Saeris Fane.

Don't you dare die on my watch, Saeris Fane! Fisher will never forgive me if his sole reason for living is torn to pieces on her first fucking battlefield.

Never forget… Monsters thrive best in the dark.

I hadn't seen many beautiful things in my short life. But, of all the beautiful things I had seen, Fisher was the most beautiful of all.

Sure. Why not. I'm too pretty to die old, anyway.

Make me forget that I've ever suffered,” I commanded. “Make me forget that I will again.

Fisher rested his chin on top of his forearms and sighed. “What?” I whispered. He thought for a moment, appearing to decide whether he'd answer the question. Then he said, “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.

There is no way you can still smell me on him.” “There's every way,” Fisher rumbled, his eyes darkening. “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—

An Oshellith is a type of butterfly,” he called as he went. “Osha for short. They hatch, live, and die all in one day. The cold kills them very fast. Isn’t that right, Renfis?

Always pay attention to the fine print. The devil's in the details. Now go.

Every warrior in Innìr will smell me on you, Fisher's voice rumbled in my mind. I'm going to make you hoarse from screaming my fucking name. I'm going to mark you in every way imaginable, so that everyone knows you're fucking mine.

He would claim my better days and carry me during my worst.

I sobbed. The name he gave me, the name I hated, was a declaration of what I meant to him even then.

Death is an open doorway that’s meant to be walked through. On the other side of it lies peace. Count yourself lucky that you get to make the journey at all.

Rumors are next-door neighbors to gossip, and gossip always breaks bread with lies. It's just the way these things go.