Page 25 of Quicksilver

Beside me, Everlayne whispered under her breath. Was she actually praying? I lifted my chin and said in a strong, clear voice, “No one’s said anything about a task. I was carried here against my will—”

“If you'd been left where you were found, it would have cost you your life.” Belikon's voice rebounded around the hall so loudly that the walls themselves seemed to tremble. “Would you rather have been abandoned there to perish?”

“I need to get back to Zilvaren. My brother—”

“Is already dead.” The finality in Belikon’s words made my head spin. “The Bitch Queen put an end to your home and all who resided in it.”

“You don't know that.”

The king’s mouth twisted sourly. “She declared that she would. At least that is what I was told. We know your queen. A power-hungry despot with a black and shriveled heart. Violence is her creed. If she swore to kill them, then everyone you once knew is now long dead, along with thousands more. You, on the other hand, are still alive and, as far as I am concerned, owe the Fae of Yvelia a debt of gratitude. Your task will ensure that you repay that debt. I’ve only just learned the details of how you came to find yourself in Yvelia. The individual who brought you to my court—” Belikon ran his tongue over his teeth like he wastrying to sweep away a foul taste, “—told my guards that you were the one who re-opened the portal. It seems highly unlikely that a human woke the quicksilver.” He grunted, displeased. “But after a thousand years of waiting, we can’t afford to dismiss this as heresy without checking first. Believe me when I say that we’re all praying such a holy position hasn’t fallen to such unholy blood.” He inhaled sharply. “But the fates are strange. And one way or another, I will have the portals restored.”

“I—”

The king lifted the sword in his hand and brought it swiftly down. The tip of the weapon crashed against the dais, and a shower of bright blue sparks exploded into the air. “You will not interrupt me a second time!” he roared. In the space of a heartbeat, his expression had gone from consternation to bitter outrage. “You’re charged with awakening the quicksilver and reopening the pathways between this world and others. Your cooperation in that task will dictate how you spend your time in Yvelia. Rail against your purpose and life within the walls of this palace will become infinitely more uncomfortable for you. I have spoken.”

I waited for him to givemeleave to speak; a litany of objections and choice curse words burned hot on the tip of my tongue, but Belikon didn't extend me the courtesy. With a bored flick of his wrist, he gestured me away, like I was of no further interest to him. Anger ate a hole in my stomach. Refusing to be dismissed so rudely, I stood my ground. I anchored my feet to the floor, but Everlayne took me by the top of the arm, pushing me off to the right. Apparently, my audience with the king was at an end.

“Go.” Everlayne shoved me harder, forcing me to move. I complied numbly, letting her lead me away from the dais toward the unoccupied bench at the front of the gallery to our left. OnceI was sitting, she hissed, “Is your life really worth so little to you?”

“If Hayden really is dead...then yes,” I whispered. “It's worth nothing.”

Everlayne observed me with pensive eyes, but I didn't look at her. My focus was locked onto the bastard up on the dais. The king already seemed to have forgotten about me. His cruel features had grown impassive again. “I have other matters to attend to,” he called. “Bring in the dog and let's be done with this.”

The dog?

A susurrus of chatter spread through the gathered Fae. On the other side of the dais, a tall Fae male with flowing red hair brought down the butt of a heavy, gilded staff, and the resultingBoom! Boom! Boom!made the crowd fall silent. The doors at the end of the throne room groaned loudly, and chaos erupted as a group of warriors dressed in full armor entered the hall. There were six or seven of them, maybe. Amongst them, thrashing like a rabid animal, they dragged a male up the walkway toward the dais.

The male kicked and raged. The guards did their best to keep a hold of him, but despite their best efforts, he took two of them down, sending them crashing to the floor. Eventually, the guards managed to wrangle the straining figure to the front of the throne room, where they forced him to his knees.

Dark waves tumbled into the Fae male's face.

Dressed all in black, his shoulders were drawn up around his pointed ears. His chest rose and fell with the sawing of his breath. Tattoos writhed and shifted like smoke across every patch of visible skin, creeping up the back of his neck and swirling over the backs of his hands.

It was Death.

In such a feral state, he bore little resemblance to the male that had scooped me off the floor in the Hall of Mirrors. It wasn't until he threw his head back, baring his teeth, that I allowed myself to believe that it was him.

Beside me, Everlayne sucked in a sharp breath, pushing forward to the edge of her seat. “Shit.”

When the rest of the crowd got a clear view of the male's face, they began to swear, too.

“Living Curse.”

“Bane of Gillethrye.”

“Black knight.”

“Kingfisher.”

“Kingfisher.”

“Kingfisher.”

The name Kingfisher echoed throughout the hall, spoken with a mix of reverence and fear.

“He lives!”

“He's returned!”