Page 30 of Brimstone

Mate. Queen of Sanasroth. King Killer—

A tightness formed between Fisher’s brows.They’re calling you that?

They are. And now you want to add Lady of Cahlish to the mix?It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be his partner in all things. I did. But the past few weeks had been surreal. I had been bound to him, forced to obey if he issued a command, fed and clothed only by the good graces of others. And now I was a queen with unknown resources at my fingertips. Even though tensions ran high back in Ammontraíeth, I was still regent, and as such I needn’t want for anything. It boggled the mind to consider it: me, a street rat from the Third, with handmaids to help dress me and bathe me, and seamstresses falling over themselves to be the first to make me a dress. But all those things felt like they werepulling me away from myself. I didn’t need rich foods and rare wines. I didn’t want fine dresses and people fussing over me.

I was still a plague rat from the Third. Clean water and simple fare were all I needed. A second set of sturdy clothes and a comfortable place to sleep were still a luxury beyond measure, and Fisher understood that. I knew he did. He had suffered far longer than I had and in far worse conditions. The Third had been bad at the best of times, but the maze had been infinitely worse. Yet . . . he was no stranger to aristocracy. Born into a noble house, he’dcomefrom this, which made it easy to return to. I was still figuring things out.

Kingfisher placed a hand on my leg under the table. He didn’t say anything else on the matter and didn’t need to. A soothing calm washed over me, easing the tension in my bones. He didn’t want me to worry or feel uncomfortable, especially in front of everyone else. There would be time to discuss the matter of my title later.

Food started streaming in on platters. Roasted pork and dressed fowl. A variety of cheeses and colorful fruits. Vegetables and hearty pies with steam rising from their crusts. Sweet and savory smells hung thick in the air, complementing each other and causing several stomachs around the table to growl. The army of fire sprites who carried in our dinner weren’t surprised when Kingfisher conjured a low, long stone table that ran parallel to our own, complete with small stone stools, and told the sprites to join us and eat; this was obviously something that had happened before. Archer sat at the head of the sprites’ table, kicking his short legs, looking pleased as punch as he and his friends fell upon their food.

Sprites were messy eaters. A good deal of food dropped to the floor before ever making it to their mouths, which made their table far more popular with Onyx than ours. The fox slippedbetween the stools and table legs, scarfing down morsels of chicken and pastry like he worried he’d never be fed again.

An easy peace existed as we ate, one that I had never known before. Lorreth and Ren traded playful insults back and forth. Danya made stilted but polite conversation with Maynir. Te Léna and Iseabail chatted with Fisher and me, and though there were plenty of serious things to be discussed, the conversation was kept as light as possible.

An evening of kinship and calm.

There was still so much to be uncertain about, but tonight we were all taking a collective breath, and it felt good.

Just as the main course was winding down, the dining room doors swung open and Carrion entered, wearing a loose white shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest and a pair of black pants. His hair was swept back from his face, clumped together in wet strands, still damp from the baths, the usual gold and copper highlights temporarily cast in bronze. His skin had a healthy glow to it, either from the heat of the baths or from some other deviant activity that I didn’t want to think about. He grinned rakishly at the entire table as he crossed the room and took up the empty seat next to me that Iseabail had saved for him.

“Evening all. Apologies for the late entrance. I had to work up an appetite before I came to eat.” Before anyone had a chance to answer, he leaned close to me and whispered, “I heard from Lorreth that you got yourself a new sex tattoo at your coronation. Can I see it?”

Merciful saints and sinners. He’d been in the room three seconds, and I already wanted to kill him. It was bad enough that I’d had to drink from Fisher in front of the entire Blood Court. I liked the new tattoo I’d earned in the process, but acquiring it that way, in front of everyone, had been mortifying. “I will pay you twenty chits to fuck off right now,” I growled back at him.

Carrion laughed off the offer, and his scent hit the back of my nose—not necessarily offensive, but very,veryobvious. It was pungent as wine and rich as perfume. I knew the others smelled it, too, from the way they all started politely breathing though their mouths.

Thisis what they’d all been smelling on me whenever Fisher and I were together? Gods alive, that was mortifying.

“Smells like you worked hard for that appetite,” Danya drawled, spearing a piece of fish onto her fork. Now that I looked at her, she wasn’t breathing through her mouth. Strangely enough, she seemed to be the only one who was inhaling deeply through her nose. Gross. She leaned across the table, angling her torso in Carrion’s direction. “From the smell of you, you must be ravenous.”

Oh no. No, no, no. This wasn’t happening. Was sheflirtingwith him? Knowing that he’d just come from having sex withat leastone other person? That was just . . . right up Carrion’s street. Urgh. Kingfisher groaned quietly next to me, as disturbed by what was happening as I was.

“If they procreate, I’m banishing them from Cahlish. A combination of the two ofthemwould probably tear open some sort of hell gate and suck the entire estate through it.”

“I heard that,” Carrion said, cheerfully shoving a piece of roasted carrot into his mouth.

“You were supposed to. Don’t get any ideas,” Fisher grumbled. “You’re not allowed to fuck a member of the Lupo Proelia.”

Danya lounged back into her seat, eyeing Carrion with a predatory glint in her eye that made me a little afraid for him. “And what about me? Can a member of the Lupo Proelia fuck a newly anointed member of the Fae?”

Fisher was a member of the Lupo Proelia, and he was fucking a newly anointed member of the Fae. Or at least I hoped hewould soon. Since he couldn’t say no to Danya, he tactfully chose to say nothing at all.

Carrion waggled his eyebrows at me suggestively. “Don’t worry, sunshine. I’m sure she doesn’t want to marry me.”

Danya snorted, inspecting her nails. “Definitely not.”

“See.” The smuggler looked delighted. “There’s nothing wrong with blowing off a little steam here and there, asyouwell know.” He started loading up his plate with a thick slab of pie. “It’s not like I’ll be planning a wedding anytime soon. I won’t be overshadowingyours.”

I choked on my wine. “What thehell?”

Archer halted his conversation with his friends and let out a gasp. In a split second he had jumped up on his stool and was standing on it, shaking with excitement. Flames broke out on his right shoulder, but he was so distracted that he didn’t even try to put it out. “Oh, yes.Yes!I’ve been waiting to start making the wedding arrangements. Is it time?”

Te Léna and Iseabail laughed at the sprite’s enthusiasm. But Ren and Lorreth both looked uncomfortably down at their plates.

A wedding? No one had said anything about awedding.Fisher had never specifically asked me if I would marry him. Did the Fae even do the whole dropping-down-on-one-knee-proposal thing?

Maybe agreeing to the mating bond was tantamount to agreeing to marry someone. I was so woefully uneducated when it came to Fae traditions. I was covered in a cold sweat when I turned to Fisher . . .