Page 67 of Quicksilver
“Of course, sir. Don't you worry. No harm will come to him under my watchful eye. He'll sleep like a baby, just see if he doesn't.”
A wall of heat and sound hit me as we entered the tavern. A good deal of nerves, too. This wasn't The House of Kala. I was known there. Safe. Well, as safe as any person could be in a house of ill repute, where shady deals went down in dark corners. This tavern was a completely new environment for me. I was a stranger here. I had no idea what to expect. It turned out it was a lot like every other tavern I'd stepped foot inside.
Every rickety seat in the place was occupied, every table cluttered with a variety of chipped and mismatched tankards that were mostly empty. Fae males and females sat in groups, engaged in their own quiet conversations. I'd seen plenty of other creatures back at the Winter Palace, but the sheer variety of the other creatures here nearly knocked me off my feet.
Tall, reedy, thin-limbed beings with bark-like skin and wisps of thin, flowing white hair.
Small, hairless things with charcoal-colored skin and slitted amber eyes, teeth as sharp as needles.
Two males with shaggy, furred legs and cloven feet sat at the bar, long, ridged horns protruding from their brows and sweeping down their backs.
Creatures with bulbous noses and green skin, and creatures with flowing, thick auburn hair that streamed out around their heads caught on an invisible breeze.
Everywhere I looked, an array of creatures so wild and wonderful and strange and frightening that I could barely catch my breath.
Kingfisher drew up the hood of his cloak and ducked his head, throwing his face into shadow as we approached the bar. A swarm of tiny faeries with gossamer wings flitted around our heads, tugging on my hair, snatching up the loose strands that had worked loose from my braid, giving them sharp, vicious little pulls.
“Ow!” I tried to swat them away, but Kingfisher caught me by the wrist.
“I wouldn't. They're drunk. They get mean when they're drunk.”
“I'm a thousand times bigger than them. I could crush—Ahh!”I hissed, pulling my hand away from the cloud of fluttering menaces. There, right on the heel of my palm, was a perfect oval welt. A bead of blood rose up from the tiny wound, shining like a tiny ruby. “A bite? Is that abitemark?” I held out my hand for Fisher to see, but he didn't even look.
“Not only do they get mad when you try to smash them out of the air, but they speak Common Fae and take offense when you imply that you're going to crush them to death. Beer, please. Two. And a pour of your strongest spirit as well.”
The bartender was a short, rotund male with wiry grey hair, a hooked nose, and the bushiest eyebrows I'd ever seen. He grunted at Fisher's request, paying neither of us any heed as he went to fetch our drinks.
When he came back, he dumped two tankards down, sloshing a good amount of our beer onto the bar, and then slid a small glass of noxious-looking green liquid to Kingfisher. Kingfisher paid wordlessly, scooped up our tankards and the shot, then ducked off into the crowd to find us somewhere to sit.
We were lucky. Two Fae women in royal blue dresses and thick traveling cloaks were rising from a table in the corner by the fire just as we were passing. Kingfisher hung his head, eyes on his boots while he waited for them to go, then he jerked hischin, indicating that I should sit down first. Onyx, who had stuck to my side like he was my shadow since we'd entered the tavern, shot under the table.
I hissed when my behind met the wooden seat. Gods, that hurt. I was never going to be able to sit down without drawing in a sharp breath again. Fisher's infuriating grin was the only part of his face visible beneath the dark cowl of his hood. “I'm glad you think this is funny,” I groused, accepting the beer he handed to me.
“I think it'shilarious,” he countered. “You've been a persistent pain in my ass since we met. Now the universe has seen fit to makeyourass smart. I'd call that justice.”
“I'd call it highly fucking annoying. Wait, what are youdoing?”
He'd reached across the table and grabbed hold of my wrist. I tried to yank it back, but his grip was like a vice. Hissing between his teeth, Fisher gave my arm a non-too-gentle tug. “Listen. In the last twelve hours, you've been bitten by that mangy fox, scorched by a sword you had no business touching, and now bitten by a Faerie as well. You aren't from here. There are probably countless germs and illnesses floating around in the air that could put you in the ground. Your body is weak and slow to heal as it is. I need to disinfect all of these cuts and scrapes before you develop a fever anddie.”
I begrudgingly stopped straining against his hold. “Careful, Kingfisher. I'll start to think you actually care about my well-being if you keep—ahh! Ahh, ahh, ahh! Ow, that fuckinghurts!”
He didn't give me any warning. He dumped the bright green liquor in the shot glass all over my hand and held my wrist even tighter as my fingers spasmed. Underneath the table, Onyx let out a nervous whine, scratching at my legs.
“Breathe,” Fisher ordered. “It'll pass in a second.”
The pain did begin to subside after a moment, but my anger...that was another story. “You're sick,” I hissed. “You enjoyed that. What kind of male likes hurting people?”
His face was a blank mask when he let me go. “I don't enjoy hurting people. I don't like it at all. But that doesn't mean it isn't necessary. To avoid far more serious pain, sometimes we have to endure a little sting. Sometimes, some of us have toinflictit. You say it so mockingly, but Idocare about your well-being. You're important. Without you, I can't end this war or protect my people. I have to keep you safe so I can accomplish my goals. So yes, I'll hurt you if it means I keep you safe. I'll force you to follow me to the ends of this realm, because that is the only way I can make sure you stay alive. Now drink your beer.”
He made it all sound so reasonable. That he was doing what was right and just for the greater good, but there were other ways of going about it. Softer, kinder ways. He clearly knew nothing about that. The world had been cruel to him, so he was cruel back. I didn't need babying. I was used to dealing in harsh facts. I'd lost track of the number of times I'd been manhandled or had the shit kicked out of me, but that didn't mean that Fisher needed to be such an asshole about all of this.
I took a swig of my beer, already knowing that one drink wouldn't be enough to improve my mood. I'd expected it to be bad, but the beer tasted nutty and rich and was actually quite pleasant.Verypleasant. “Go slow with that,” Fisher warned when I took another huge gulp. “It's strong.”
This idiot reallydidthink I was weak. He knew nothing about the drinking games I'd played and won back in Zilvaren. And that was drinking whiskey, not beer, for fuck's sake. Still, I wasn't idiot enough to go downing my whole tankard just to prove a point. These were unchartered lands, and I didn't have a map, both literally and figuratively.
I narrowed my eyes at Kingfisher. “When will Carrion wake up?”
“How am I supposed to know?” Fisher drank from his own beer, green eyes glinting at me over the top of his tankard. From within the dark shadows of his hood, they seemed to flash in the most remarkable way.
