Page 121 of Quicksilver

I gave the female a hug, too, my eyes pricking at the surprising display of maternal warmth. She was still calling after us, bidding us goodnight, as Onyx bolted ahead of us up the path, carrying a Bettell biscuit in his mouth.

We were going back to Cahlish. There was no way Fisher would choose to stay here after my strange little episode. But he didn't open up a shadow gate and drag me back through it as I thought he would. He was quiet as he led me into the line of the trees and passed the quaint houses that lined the walkway. He flexed out his hands by his sides a couple of times before slipping them into his pockets—he didn’t seem to know what to do with them.

The walkways into the forest were only wide enough to accommodate a small cart, perhaps. They were deserted, though, with everyone still back at the clearing, enjoying the celebrations.

Fisher stopped in the middle of the path, so abruptly that I nearly ran into his back. “Those words you said back there. Why did you say them?” he demanded.

I'd said them out loud? Damn. “I don't know. I really don't. It came out of nowhere. I was sitting there, listening to you say something about smiling, and then bam. It was all I could hear. Annorath mor. Annorath mor. Annorath M—”

“Stop.” Fisher held up his hand as if it were a shield. “Don't...say that. Just, please don't say that.” He had been annoyed, mad, irritated, turned on, and a million other things in front of me, but he'd never been afraid before.

“The quicksilver pushed those words into my mind when you forced me to hold it back at the Winter Palace. What do theymean?”I asked, stepping toward him.

He stepped back at the same time, shaking his head. “It’s better if you don’t ask. I can't tell you anyway, so just…don't.”

“Fisher—”

He lunged for me, grabbing me by the hand. “Come on. Let's go.”

The forest village of Ballard whipped past in a blur as Fisher tugged me along behind him. The trees were full of twinkling lights. Pretty ponds and grassy areas with benches lined the paths. Music still hung in the air, though distant now, as he took me further into the forest. Eventually, we came to a cobblestoned square with a circular fountain at its center. The statue in the fountain—a female with flowing, beautiful hair and a heart-shaped, gently smiling face—held a stone urn, from which a steady stream of water poured into the pool at her feet. The sound of the trickling water would have been soothing had Fisher not been so agitated. He charged across the square, angling his head away from the statue, beelining for an innocuous red doorway between two small shops—a bakery and a tailor's, by the looks of things.

“Fisher, slow...” I nearly tripped over my own feet as I passed the fountain, my eyes trailing over the small brass plaque at the base of the woman's feet, and something painful clicked into place. I realized why the statue looked so familiar now. She looked an awful lot like Everlayne. And she had Kingfisher's high cheekbones. Or rather, he hadherhigh cheekbones.

'Edina of the Seven Towers. Lady of Cahlish.’

Kingfisher's mother.

He'd said she had brought him here as a child. She was important to the people of Ballard. Fisher was, too. I'd figured that out even before Wendy had come to tell him off for neglecting her for so long. Everyone had been very subtle about it, but the villagers had been very aware of his presence. He wasn't a stranger here, had never been one by my reckoning,and now he was opening up a door to a building on the square because he had a fuckingkey?

“Come on.” He gestured to the open doorway. “Let's go inside. It's getting cold.”

The temperature was a terrible excuse. Cahlish was much colder than Ballard, and he walked around there in just a shirt and pants without batting an eyelid. I understood why he wanted to get inside, though, and I had no plans on stopping him.

The door opened to a narrow stairway. Just one flight. Candles in wall sconces sparked to life as Kingfisher motioned for me to go ahead of him. I started to climb. Onyx slipped through my feet, forever nosy, wanting to go first. His claws made a clattering sound against the wooden floorboards as he hopped up each step. The air smelled of dust and neglect. When I reached the top of the stairs, I found myself surrounded by ghosts, but before I could panic, flames bloomed at the wicks of more candles on the other side of the room, and I saw that the eerie white shapes weren't ghosts after all. Just large pieces of furniture draped with dust sheets.

Even the pictures hanging on the walls had been covered. Three large windows overlooked the courtyard and the fountain, but Fisher was already on it, crossing the modest living room and drawing the thick burgundy velvet curtains closed at each of them, blocking out any view of the kind-looking woman pouring water from her urn below.

This wasn't just an apartment Fisher had rented for the night. This place belonged to Fisher. It had belonged to his mother once, maybe, and now it was his.

I paced around the room, running my hand over the sheets. Onyx's nose was glued to the ground as he trotted about, snuffling intensely. He sneezed explosively, then went right back to inhaling all the dust. I was about to pull down the sheet fromthe large painting above the fireplace, but Fisher's hand caught my wrist. “Don't,” he said. But then, a little softer, he added, “Not tonight.”

Why were we even here? This seemed like prodding an open wound for him, but he’d been the one to bring me to Ballard. “Bathroom's through there,” he said, pointing through a doorway to our left. “There are two bedrooms down there. I'll take the smallest. That used to be mine, anyway.”

Two bedrooms. He was sleeping in his own room. I was to sleep in the other. I wasn't surprised by that. Fisher might deign to fuck me, but I was under no illusions that he'd want to sleep in the same room as me.

“Thanks. Oh,shit.” I winced. “I left my bag back in the clearing. I wasn't thinking. I'll have to go back and get it.”

But Kingfisher held out his hand, and his palm became a wreath of black smoke, which became a piece of canvas, which became the forgotten bag. “Here,” he said softly. “Night, Little Osha.”

26

ASH AND CINDERS

I woke to screaming.The sound was full of raw terror—the kind of sound a person made right before they were murdered. I leaped out of bed and collided with a piece of furniture, smashing my big toe.

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I didn't know this bedroom. It had been pitch-black when I'd come in here. I'd only been able to find the bed by patting around in the dark. Gods only knew what kind of obstructions stood between me and the door. Gods only knew where the doorwas. The screaming intensified. I eventually found the door handle and then nearly tripped over a panting Onyx as he shot passed me out of the door. I followed the white smudge of his body down the hall.

“Stop! No. I said no!STOP!”Fisher yelled.