Page 80 of Quicksilver

The corners of Fisher's mouth twitched when I slammed down my plate and fork on the table to his right. I dared him to breathe a word about it as I sat down next to him. He ran his fingertips over the rim of his wine glass, shifting in his seat to turn toward me as he watched me pour myself an obnoxiously large glass of wine from the carafe he was hoarding.

The wine was dark as ink. I took a defiant swig, my eyes locked with his over the rim of my glass.

Kingfisher pointed loosely at my glass when I set it down. “Do you like it?” He spoke to me normally. No magic this time.

“Yes. It's...it's interesting.”

He pouted, nodding to himself. Something told me he was desperately trying not to smile. “Please. Help yourself to more. I don't have to speak to the men for a couple of hours. I've got time to share the bottle.”

I looked at him properly. Really took him in. There was something different about him. Something I couldn't put my finger on. Not at first. But then I realized what it was: his clothes. I had never seen Fisher in anything other than black, but tonight the shirt he wore was a hunter green. Very dark, but still green. It was simple, but the material was fine and tailored perfectly. The way it hung from his frame emphasized how broad he was in the shoulders and how corded his arms were. The dark green colorhighlighted the raven's wing black of his thick hair. It threw his pale skin into contrast and...and...

Gods, get agripon yourself, Saeris Fane. Focus!

I forced my gaze down to my half-eaten fish. “Why is silver in such short supply here if you have all this gold?”

“Because silver serves a very specific purpose here. We need as much of it as we can lay our hands on.”

“Then why not sell all of the gold and buy some? Gold's worth more.”

Fisher slowly shook his head, smiling as if to himself. Gods, why was it so hard tolookat him sometimes? I'd never had this problem before. “Maybe whereyou'refrom,” he said. He observed me, toying with his wine glass where it rested on the table, spinning it around lazily by the stem. With his lips parted, I could just make out the points of his teeth. It was rude to stare, but I couldn't help it. My heart missed a step whenever I saw his canines. As if he knew perfectly well what I was focused so intently on, Fisher opened his mouth a fraction wider, his top lip rising a little so that more of his teeth were on show. It was a subtle difference. Perhaps only a millimeter more of those sharp, white canines were visible, but heat exploded between my legs of all places, and suddenly...Gods, I needed another drink.

I buried my face in my wine glass. Fisher ran his tongue over his bottom lip, also looking away. The tendons in his neck stood proud, his jaw clenching ever so slightly as he frowned at something over by the window. “We can't buy more silver. The entire realm's been picked clean. Belikon has an embargo on it, too. Any silver found within Yvelian borders must be given to the crown. That's part of the reason why we need to use the quicksilver so badly. Other realms have an abundance of silver. We could trade for more than we need if we could just cross between realms.”

“If Belikon has all of Yvelia's silver, then surely he’d give it to you? If it's so vital to win the war?”

Kingfisher snorted. “You'd think so, wouldn't you? But no. Belikon won't give us silver. He won't give us aid. He won't give us food, or clothes, or weapons. He doesn’t give a fuck about this war.”

“But that's just...it makes no sense.” I took another deep pull of my wine. The unique taste bloomed into floral notes in my mouth. It tasted smooth, rich, and complex all at the same time. The flavor had surprised me at first, but it was really starting to grow on me.

Kingfisher watched me with steady eyes. The quicksilver lacing his right iris pulsed and caught at the candlelight, shifting and twisting amidst the green. It seemed to be extra active tonight. As if confirming this, Kingfisher's hand tightened around his wine glass. His shoulders tensed, his nostrils flaring momentarily, but then he exhaled, letting out a deep breath, and he loosened again. It all happened very quickly. I might not have noticed it at all had I looked away for a second.

Kingfisher's eyes bored into me. He knew I'd seen him flinch, and from the way he was staring at me, one of his eyebrows curving in question, he was waiting to see if I would ask him about it. I wanted to, but I already knew I'd find myself frustrated and angry if I did. He'd use my interest against me somehow. He'd find a way to be cruel—it was just in his nature— so I gave the topic a wide berth. I was about to ask him what experimentshehad tried in order to make a relic, but then the crew of fire sprites bustled into the room, their charcoal-like bodies throwing up sparks and wisps of smoke as they approached the table. The two sprites at the head of the group were carrying large dishes full of food. Two different kinds of dessert, by the looks of things. They nearly dropped the disheswhen they saw me sitting up at the head of the table next to Fisher.

“Lord!” one of them—a female—squawked. “MyLord!” She spun in a circle, her mouth flapping open. The rest of the fire sprites registered that I'd dared to move next to their precious master and also proceeded to lose their minds.

“It's—”

“She's—”

“The human!”

“LordKingfisher!”

Archer was the last sprite to enter the dining room. The second he laid eyes on me, he slumped down on his backside, right where he was, sitting heavily on the plush rug, and started hyperventilating. “Forgive...me...Lord. I...wasn't...expecting...”

“It's all right, Archer. Everybody calm down.” Fisher hadn't changed his position. He was still sprawled out in his chair in a very relaxed manner, but he'd shielded his mouth with his hand, trying to hide his smile. He looked down and coughed, appearing to pull himself together. “You can leave the plates for now. And the dessert. Just set it on the table, and you can all go. Thank you.”

The fire sprites were all emitting black smoke. The cracks and crevices across their compact little bodies flashed and glowed like stirred embers. When one of his friends tried to help Archer up, a small flame formed on Archer's arm. He released a mortified shout, and all of the sprites started slapping at him, trying to put him out.

“Sorry, Lord! So sorry! I'm soembarrassed!” Archer wailed.

Kingfisher finally got up and went to the knot of panicking sprites. He ushered them out of the dining room, reassuring Archer the whole time, his laughter bouncing off the walls. He was still grinning when he sat back down in his seat.

“Martyrs. Did they think I was going to try and stab you with my fish fork?”

Fisher rubbed at the back of his neck, his smile fading. “Fire sprites are just very emotional. They love to overreact, that's all.” By the time he was done speaking, his blank mask was back in full effect. “They'll have forgotten all about it by tomorrow.”

“I'll be eating dinner in the forge tomorrow,” I said. “They won't have to deal with a filthy, mannerless human breaching Cahlish etiquette.”