Page 91 of Quicksilver
Kingfisher didn't seem to think anything of the little sprite's strange behavior. “Of course I want you to stay. You're the only Alchemist we have,” he said. “I'd keep you here and have you working in that forge until you died of old age if it were up to me. But a deal's a deal.” It was a testament to the white-knuckled grip I had on my temper that I didn't snap at him as I watched him sip from his glass. “It's really shocking how little faith you have in yourself. You'll figure it out. Please eat something,” he said, gesturing to the feast the sprites had brought for us.
Carrion hadn't waited for an invitation and was already heaping his plate with small pies, roasted vegetables, and five different kinds of bread rolls. Ren had taken a piece of bread, too, though he wasn't giving it much attention. He picked at it, tearing off a piece and putting it into his mouth, chewing slowly as his gaze moved back and forth subtly between me and Kingfisher.
“I'm not hungry,” I said.
“You are,” Fisher said. “We can all hear your stomach rumbling. Put something in it so we don't have to listen to it complaining for the next hour.”
The soup in the tureen closest to me smelled incredible. It was thick and creamy. Chicken, maybe? Mushrooms and sweetcorn, too. If I weren't feeling so spiky about being coerced into coming here, I would have filled my bowl to the brim with it. Since Iwaspissed, I ignored the food and my snarling stomach and treated Fisher to my best death stare. The same one Carrion had said was capable of gutting a man. “You said you were going to the camp for a week. You were gone for two.”
“Did you miss me?”
“I didn't appreciate being stuck in your bed for five days, y'know.”
“Really?” He picked up a piece of cheese. “Most femaleslikespending time in my bed.”
“How long are you staying before you head back to the camp?” Carrion asked Ren, around a mouthful of food.
Ren arched an eyebrow, struggling to tear his gaze away from me to look at Carrion. “Uh...a week, maybe?”
“I don't even want to think about the depraved shit you've done in that room,” I hissed.
Fisher's laughter flooded the dining room. “You're right. You don't.”
“Urgh!”
“I'll be down in the courtyard every morning before dawn, then,” Carrion said.
“Sure. We're practicing disarmament tomorrow...” Ren tore off another piece of bread and put it in his mouth, throwing me a sidelong look. “You could probably use some training on that front, Saeris.”
“Great! I’ll be there.Thanks.”I tried to make my voice a little lighter but failed. Ren laughed silently, looking down at his plate. Apparently, he thought the battle I was waging with Fisher was adorable and didn't take offense at the bite in my tone, but I wasn't mad at him. He didn't deserve my ire. “Sorry,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I didn't mean to snap. Not atyou,anyway.”
The general shook his head, suppressing a smile. He reached for a pie and set it onto his plate. “Not at all. He makes me crazy, too.”
Kingfisher hadn't looked away from me once during this exchange. “Make sure she uses a training sword,” he said flatly. “One with a very dull edge.”
“I donotneed to use a training sword!”
“Oh? You have experience wielding a blade, then? A proper, full-length sword and not some badly forged back-alley shank?”
I was going to shank him in the neck with my very dullbutterknife. Then he'd see how proficient I was with a blade. I coulddo it, too. He wasn't wearing his gorget this evening. His throat was bare, just begging to be opened right up, and I was in the mood to lay steel to flesh. I only realized I'd been staring at his throat when Fisher lifted his chin a little, angling his head so that the tendons in his neck stood proud. That fucking smile again. I wanted to wipe it off his smug face so badly.
“Yes,” I declared. He had no idea about the training I used to do back when my mother was alive. No idea at all what I was capable of. “I have plenty of experience with full-length swords. They’re like daggers, only bigger. You use the sharp—”
“You're on the verge of embarrassing yourself,” Fisher murmured. “Better stop talking before you put Renfis here in an early grave.”
“Oh, fuck you, Fisher.”
He bit down on his bottom lip, eyes alive, flickering vivid green and silver. I knew what his amusement looked like now, and I didn't like it one bit. “Go on. Tell her, Ren,” he said.
“I'm not getting caught in the crossfire of whateverthisis,” Ren said, gesturing to the two of us. “I'll be happy to demonstrate the differences between close-quarter fighting with a dagger and swordplay in the morning, Saeris. In the meantime, I plan on enjoying my dinner. Carrion, what kind of fighting system do the guardians employ in the Silver City?”
It was as if Carrion had been waiting for him to ask; he dove into an in-depth, animated discussion with the general, telling Ren all about the fighting techniques and formations he'd witnessed Madra's guards using back home. I was sure he was making half of it up. I contributed nothing to the conversation; I was locked in silent warfare with Fisher across our corner of the table, and I didn't plan on losing.
Fisher nodded toward my plate. “Eat, Little Osha.” His lips moved, but he spoke softly, casting his voice.
“Gods, will youstopdoing that?” I hissed under my breath.
“Why? I've seen the way your skin breaks out in goosebumps when I speak to you like this.”
