Page 48 of Quicksilver

I barely noticed the pot—thecrucible—that Kingfisher set down on the anvil by the workbench. My gaze was locked onto the bead of sweat that was hanging from Fisher's chin; for the life of me, I could see nothing else. It glistened there for a second and then fell, sizzling when it hit the iron crucible and turned to smoke.

Fisher's normally loose black shirt was plastered to his chest. He drew in a deep breath, his shoulders rising, and—

I jerked when he snapped his fingers in front of my face.

“You could at least say hello before you start eye-fucking me.”

“I wasn't eye-fucking you. I was trying to see through all of this...steam.” I wafted my hand for effect, but the air was clear, there was no steam, and Kingfisher did not look impressed.

“It's always confounded me. Humans aren't restricted by the same laws as the Oath Bound Fae. You creatures can lie whenever you want. You do it all of the time. And yet you're all so fuckingbadat it.” His cheeks were flushed from the heat, slick with perspiration. Not a hair on his head was dry. From root to tip, his waves were dripping wet, some of them plastered to the side of his face. As if suddenly conscious of this, he shook his head like a dog, showering sweat everywhere.

I held my hand up in front of my face, blocking the spray. “Disgusting.”

Fisher laughed silently as he peered into the crucible, peeling his shirt free of his chest as he inspected what was inside. “There you go again, lying your little heart out. You like my sweat,don'tyou, human?”

Since the moment we'd met, the prick had lived to push my buttons. I'd never reacted to him calling me ‘human’ or ‘Osha,’ so I had no clue how he knew it irked me so much, but it did. I was officially sick of it. “I have aname.Use it.” I barged past him, making my way to the workbench. I dumped the bag I'd brought with me onto the table and then snatched up one of the thick leather aprons hanging on the wall by the window.

I turned around, ready to lecture him about manners and how it was polite to call a person by their givenname and not some shitty namethey’dcome up for them, but—

“Holy gods and martyrs!”My heart leaped up into my throat.

Less than an inch away, Kingfisher smiled down at me. How the hell had he gotten this close? His eyes danced with mirth.It was criminal that such astonishing eyes belonged to such a bastard. They were like nothing I'd ever seen before. So bright, the most unique and startling shade of green. And while the quicksilver trapped in his right iris freaked me the hell out, there was no denying that it made him look remarkable.

“You aretemporary,” he said, looming over me, his huge frame just...everywhere.

“And you arerude,” I shot back.

He shrugged, turning away. As soon as his back was to me, I sucked in a ragged breath, trying to regain my composure while he wasn't looking. “It isn’t practical, learning the names of humans,” he said. “You come and go so quickly. I only bother to learn the names of creatures who live longer than a heartbeat.”

My hands shook as I looped the apron ties around my waist and then knotted them over my stomach. “It's Saeris. My name. Call me that or nothing at all.”

He cast an amused look over his shoulder, his lips parted a fraction, exposing the briefest glimpse of teeth. “Nothing at all? I like the sound of that. Come here and look at this, Nothing At All.”

I suppose I walked right into that one. Sighing, I went to see what he was pointing at inside the crucible. “There are these other words, too. Please and thank you? I haven't heard you use either yet, but I'm sure they're a part of your vocabulary—”

“They're not,” he said brightly.

A tiny amount of dark grey powder, fine as ash, sat in the bottom of the crucible. “What am I looking at?”

“Bone,” Fisher said.

“Human?”

He shook his head. “I didn't have any. Though, if you were willing to contribute—”

“Stop.”

Fisher stood up straight, half-closing one eye as he studied me. “Are your kind supposed to nap in the afternoons? You're really grumpy.I'mthe one with the hangover, y'know.”

“What did you even do last night?”

“Wouldn't you like to know.”

“Actually, forget it. I've changed my mind. I don't want to know.”

“Ren and I went to The Blind Pig. We gambled away half his savings and drank the bar dry. I'll invite you next time.”

I pulled a face. “Please don't.”