Page 26 of Quicksilver

Beside me, Everlayne’s eyes bore down on this Kingfisher as he gnashed and snarled, straining against the guards. “It's worse,” she whispered. “So much worse.”

“What's wrong with him?” I hissed.

Everlayne didn't say a word. She stared at the male on his knees in front of Belikon, her fingers trembling as she held them to her lips.

“Behold!” Belikon stood. Pacing toward Kingfisher, he dragged the sword behind him rather than sheathing it, and the tip of the blade sent sparks flying in its wake. A terrible, multi-layered scream ignited inside my head as the metal scraped across the dais this time. The sound of it was deafening. It set my stomach churning, bile bubbling up the back of my throat. I clapped my hands over my ears, trying to block out the sound,but the nauseating pitch intensified as Belikon drew the weapon closer.

“This...is the price of folly!” Belikon boomed. “Madness. Madness and death!”

Kingfisher lunged, trying to free himself, desperate to reach the king, but the guards wrestled him down, pinning him to the floor. One of them laid a knee into the back of his neck, but Kingfisher bucked, trying to be free of his captors. King Belikon sucked on his teeth, shaking his head with disdain.

Throwing his arms wide in a theatrical gesture, he shouted, “The scourge of Yvelia! The male that stalks your children's nightmares. The male who torched a city on a whim. The male who'd cut your throat as soon as look at you. Does this pathetic creature strike such an imposing figure now?”

A rumble traveled across the hall, but it was impossible to decipher what the true consensus was amongst the Fae. Those who thought Kingfisher was a terrifying monster were scrambling over each other to put some distance between him and their families. Others wore stony, hard expressions and looked at each other with clenched jaws, nostrils flaring, obviously not enjoying the display one bit.

“His exile was not at an end, but he’s returned anyway. Just over a century has passed since Gillethrye. Our losses have dulled. The pain stings a little less brightly. But does that mean we should forgive?”

A roar surged up around us, the wall of sound battering at my eardrums so loud that they felt as if they would burst.

“Mercy!”

“Kill him!”

“Banish him!”

“Protect Yvelia from the Scourge!”

“Kingfisher!”

“Kingfisher!”

“Kingfisher!”

“Send him to his grave!”

Anxiety radiated from Everlayne as she surveyed her father's subjects over her shoulder. Shaking, she clasped and unclasped her hands, wringing them fitfully. “He'll murder him,” she whispered. “He'll work them into a frenzy until they demand his death.” She seemed to consider a moment, whipping around to look back up at the dais—not to Belikon, who loomed over Kingfisher, but to the old female sitting on the dais with the gnarled hands and the milk-white eyes.

“Malwae.” She spoke the name only a shade louder than a whisper, but the old woman slowly turned away from Belikon, who was gesticulating rudely over Kingfisher, to the beautiful female beside me.

“Do something. Please!” she begged.

Malwae went rigid in her seat. Sitting up a little straighter, she gave Everlayne a look that seemed to say, 'What do you expect me to do?' Everlayne whimpered, letting out an even louder cry of alarm when King Belikon raised the sword he'd dragged over to Kingfisher and held it aloft over the dark-haired male's torso.

“What say you, Fae of Yvelia? Should we stab this bastard in the back, just as he drove his blade into our backs and stabbed us?”

“Mercy! Please! Mercy!”

“End him!”

“Protect Yvelia!”

It sounded like this Kingfisher had killed a lot of people. The king made out as though he'd done it on a whim, out of spite. If that was true, then it could be argued that the male deserved to be punished. But the pageantry of this felt off. Belikon's behavior was too showy and cavalier, and Everlayne's reaction was affecting me, too. I barely knew her, but she seemed, well...good.Would she be this concerned if her father was threatening to execute a cold-hearted murderer? Wouldn't she be demanding justice along with the rest of the mob?

My nerves got the better of me. “He isn’t actually going to kill him, is he?”

The question fell on deaf ears. Staring up at the dais, Everlayne focused on the grey-haired woman, her eyes burning into her ferociously. “Malwae, now! If you bore my mother any love at all, you’ll do something to save him,” she hissed.

A look of resignation claimed Malwae’s wrinkled features. She groaned as, reluctantly, she drew herself to her feet. The crowd's shouts grew frantic as King Belikon caught the stooped crone’s approach in his peripherals.