Page 166 of Brimstone

No other emotion came close to this. Not the hatred I felt for Madra. Not the hurt I felt over Everlayne, suffering alone in some unknown hell. Not the worry I felt over Ren’s disappearance. None of it. The world could be ending and mylove for this male would outstrip my fear. Sometimes, I felt like I would burst open from how overwhelming that feeling was.

Fisher’s eyes burned when I dared look back at him again. He knew all that I had just been thinking. I was almost certain that he had been feeling it, too.

“You seem overly preoccupied with dresses,” I said in a small voice.

“Do I?” His voice was rough.

I nodded. “Every time I enter my chambers here or your rooms at Cahlish—”

“Ourrooms,” he corrected.

I ducked my head. “Every time I enter our rooms at Cahlish, there’s a new dress, laid out on the bed and waiting for me.”

He took a second before he replied, but then said very carefully, “Don’t you like them?”

“Yes. I do. I just . . .” Gods, why was this so hard to put into words? It shouldn’t have been. “It makes me feel like . . . you’re trying todomesticateme.”

He stumbled to a halt, right there in the middle of the dance floor. Miraculously, no one careened into us; the other dancers course-corrected with grace, flowing around us as Fisher frowned at me, looking rather mystified. “And how in all five hells would I do that, Osha? I’d have better luck trying to domesticate one of your hellcats.”

“I don’t know. I just . . .” Still, the words didn’t want to come.

Fisher stepped toward me, cupping my face in his hands. “I don’t want you to be anything other than what you already are, Saeris. The dresses are just . . .” His brow furrowed. “They’re aninvitation. The life you lived in Zilvaren was hard. You had to do everything for yourself. I’m here now, and—no‚ wait. No, let me finish. I’m here now, and just because I am your mate and you are mine doesn’t mean that I expect you to sit around looking pretty, or . . . or put down your weapons and adopt a differentway of life. I wouldneverwant that for you. But you don’t have to beonething here, Saeris. You can be many things. You can wear your leathers and fight every day of the year. I would never ask you not to. But sometimes, if youwantedto . . . you’re allowed to soften, Saeris. You’re allowed to stop baring your teeth at the world and take a breath. Because I’vegotyou.”

The dancers whirled on by, streaming velvet, silk, and damask out behind them, and I let those words settle into my soul.

Because I’ve got you.

Hedidhave me, didn’t he? He was the anchor that kept me from drifting away. Even here, in this horrible place, he hadn’t left my side.

“Come on.” Fisher nodded, as if he’d just made his mind up about something. “Come over here. I want to show you something. It won’t take a second, and then I’ll get you out of here.”

I followed him. I would have goneanywherewith him in that moment, but we didn’t travel far—out of the flow of the dancers, away from the long tables, where many sour-faced high bloods still sat, muttering darkly into their wine. Fisher came to a stop in front of a small round table that stood before a particularly graphic wall hanging.

I looked up at the hanging, squinting at the bacchanalia it depicted. “What’s the male doing to that goat?” I asked.

“Ignore the goat,” Fisher said in a chiding tone. “Look here.”

A huge flower arrangement dominated the small table. A variety of blooms, likely selected for their complementary purple hues, had been organized quite expertly in a shining golden vase. They were stunning. At the center of the arrangement, Fisher pointed out the most beautiful bloom of all. It wasn’t the largest of the flowers, but its color was the most vibrant. Iridescent, almost. Its petals were ruffled at the edges and pinched in themiddle, swelling out at their ends to form the shape of love hearts. On each heart, a tiny droplet of water glittered like a diamond—

“Don’t.” Fisher’s hand closed around my wrist, preventing me from touching the flower. “It won’t kill you, but it’ll make you really miserable, believe me.”

“It’s poisonous?”

“To most people, it’s deadly.” Shooting me a crooked smile, he said, “But you’re stronger than most. Here, they call it Veridius. Saint’s Steeple. In the Fae courts, we call it Widow’s Bane. You’ve heard of it before.”

I had. “Lorreth gave me and Carrion some to chew at Gillethrye. Our ribs were broken after we hit the surface of the lake. It took our pain away for a while.”

Fisher nodded. “Allow that little dewdrop to come into contact with your skin, and it’ll take your pain away forever,” he said. “Widow’s Bane is safe to chew once that poison has been cleaned from its petals and its leaves have been steeped and dried for a couple of days. So long as you don’t swallow the leaves and only chew them, you’ll be fine. But I didn’t bring you over here to give you a lesson in plant medicine. I came to show you that sometimes, it’s the most beautiful things that are deadliest. A dress can’t make you weak. It won’t make you vulnera—”

Help!The tremulous scream cut above the music.

In a heartbeat, Fisher had drawn Nimerelle and was scanning the crowd, trying to locate the source of the cry.

“Gods! What’s—what’shappening?” At the table close by, a male high blood was bowed over his place setting and was shuddering, a thick stream of rank black blood pouring from his mouth. It flooded from his eyes, too. Ran from his nose and his ears.

“Help!” The plea went up again, on the other side of the hall this time.

And again, behind us. “Mercy! Please!”