Page 124 of Brimstone
“Iwantto see you, Archer. I want to be your friend. All of you. Yes, I want to be friends with you three, too . . .” I trailed off, the words dying on my lips when fire broke out atop one of the other fire sprite’s heads. The little sprite stared at me, mouth hanging open, fiery eyes wide.
“There’s a way things are supposed to be done.” Archer repeated this slowly, in an exasperated tone, as if I just wasn’t understanding what he was saying.
“I hear you. I do. But the realm outside the walls of this estate changes all the time, doesn’t it?”
I’d never seen a fire sprite pout before. I had now. “Not really.”
“Archer, come on. One day, maybe I’ll live here, and it would be nice if we didn’t have to stand on ceremony all the time. You should be able to relax around me. You shouldn’t call me my lady, either.”
“What are wesupposedto call you, then?”
“You should call me Saeris. It’s my name.”
Archer wobbled like he might fall over. The sprite who had been cleaning the nightstands was standing over by the bookshelf now and had a little knickknack in his hands. Aceramic bird, by the looks of things. Archer squawked when he noticed what the other sprite was doing. “Put that down! That was Lady Edina’s favorite!”
“It’s okay, I’m sure he’s just looking at it.”
The offending sprite pulled a sheepish face, put the bird back on the shelf, then scurried away. “No, mistress. You don’t understand. That ornament is how Kingfisher got his name! Lady Edina saw it in a market in Ballard when she was pregnant with the master. She wasn’t usually taken by things like that. She didn’t own many knickknacks, but she said she had to have it. She was so taken by it that on his first birthday, she announced people should call her son Kingfisher. She set that ornament there herself, on that shelf, when the master was just a Faeling. She didn’t like anyone to touch it.”
“Okay, Archer. It’s okay,” I said, laughing a little at his anxious rambling. “The ornament’s fine. It’s back on the shelf. We all know now not to touch it.”
But Archer wouldn’t be consoled. One of the sprites helping to heat the bath dropped the stone he was holding into the bathtub with asplosh, and that was it. “Out! Get out, all of you! Go! I’ll leave you out in the snow,” Archer cried. “I’ll turn you into doorstops. Go!”
The one who’d been investigating the Kingfisher ornament ran out of the room first. He was smaller than the others, which made me think he might be the youngest, but I honestly knew nothing of how fire sprites grew or aged. The others, who had been warming my bathwater, scuttled out with their eyes glued to the ground. Archer was last to go. He backed out of the room, his voice warbling with stress as he went.
“There’s some food on the tray for you, my lady. A clean robe on the bed.”
“Archer, come on.”
“If you need anything, just pull on that tassel there by the bed. Yes, you know the one.”
“Things are going to have to change!” I called after him as he drew the door closed. “We can’t go on like this!”
The tub was heavenly. The rocks—still sitting at the bottom of the bath—radiated heat for a long time, keeping the water nice and hot. I let my head fall against the back of the tub, and before I knew it, I was dozing.
I didn’t want to fall asleep yet, though. Not until I’d seen Fisher. Once my fingers had pruned and my muscles felt loose, I climbed out of the bath and dried myself off, dressed in one of Fisher’s loose shirts, and prepared to settle in the with the book on Alchemy that I’d removed from Ammontraíeth’s library against Algat’s wishes.
But then the door opened.
He stood in the rectangular square of light for a moment, watching me, then slowly stepped into the room and swung the door closed behind him.
I didn’t say anything, and neither did he. We just savored the sight of each other. Relished the fact that we were both in the same room, breathing the same air, and nothing had succeeded in killing us while we’d been apart.
Fisher took a couple of steps toward me, eyes pensive. He bent and drew off one of his boots, his mouth forming a disapproving line as he upended it and a stream of sand poured out of it onto the floor. It kept coming and coming . . .
I covered my mouth, trying not to laugh.
He repeated the motion with his other boot, turning it upside down, gaze locked stoically on me while he waited for the sand to be done pouring out of his footwear.
When he was finished, he dropped both boots to the floor with athump,thumpand took another small step forward. “Do you know how incredible you were back there?” he asked.
“When I was fighting for my life?”
He shook his head. “When you single-handedly took down five guards with those pretty new short swords of yours. That was really . . .” He trailed off, eyes burning.
“Stupid?”
“Hot,” he corrected, the tips of his canines glinting between his lips as he emphasized the word.
