Page 94 of Quicksilver

Ren looked down at his boots. He wasn't happy. Nor was Holgoth, who didn't seem to know quite what to do with himself. He dithered, passing Bill's reins from one knotty hand to the other, then sighed and reached out for Ren's horse's reins, too. “As you wish, sire—”

“Fisher. Just Fisher is fine.”

Holgoth sadly shook his head. “No, sire. I apologize, but...no.”

Kingfisher made his excuses and drew up his hood, disappearing into the war camp. Holgoth took the horses and insisted on relieving us of our bags as well, reassuring us that he'd keep them safe and we would find our things in our tents later. After he was gone, Ren snarled something in a language I didn't understand and stormed off in an easterly direction at a fast clip. “Are you two coming?” he shouted over his shoulder.

“Where are you going?” Carrion yelled back.

“Where do you think? To the godscursed armory!”

The Darn began in the east as a spring, up in the Shallow Mountains, where the Gilaríen Fae and the Autumn Court presided. Everlayne had mentioned them in the library when she and Rusarius had been trying to educate me about the other courts' quicksilver pools. I hadn't been paying attention, of course. My mind had been fixed solely on how I was goingto steal Fisher's pendant, so I'd retained very little of the information they'd imparted about the other courts.

I listened a little closer as Ren talked about the river, though.

“At first, it's just a small pool. As it travels down through the mountains, it gains momentum and gathers more water to it. There are plains a couple of hundred miles away where the Darn is over a league wide.” The general angled his sword over his head and charged, canines bared. It was a miracle that Carrion didn't shit his pants where he stood. I had never witnessed anything as terrifying as a blooded Fae warrior attacking at full speed, and I was willing to bet Carrion hadn't, either. To his credit, he managed to get his sword up just in time to block Ren's downward strike, though that was about it. Ren flicked Carrion's sword out of his hands and put him on his ass in the snow before he could blink a second time. I stifled a laugh as the male held out his hand, helping Carrion to his feet.

“You'll be laughing on the other side of your face soon.” Carrion used one hand to dust the snow off his pants and the other to flip me off. “It's almost your turn. My ass can't take much more of this.”

“I bet that's the first time you've saidthosewords,” I called.

He stuck out his tongue like a petulant child. “I'm more of a giver than a receiver, actually.”

Ren clanged the end of Carrion's sword with his own. “Focus. You're dropping the blade the moment anything makes contact with it. Do that in a real fight, and you'll be dead in three seconds.”

Carrion spat, breathing heavily. It was freezing cold. Fresh flakes of snow skirled in the air, eddying in circles, but Carrion had shed his cloak half an hour ago, and his shirt was marked with sweat. Once, my insides would have stumbled over the way I could make out his muscled chest through the damp material. But that was before.

BeforeFisher.

“I think it's safe to say that I wouldn't last longer than three seconds regardless of where I put my sword,” he panted. “You're a demon with that blade. Plus you're twice my size!”

“Oh, please. He'sthreetimes your size,” I said.

I was flipped off again.

“Your size could be your greatest advantage,” Ren advised. “You're smaller than me, so you could be quicker—”

“Hah! Please don't lie to me. You have Fae speed. I'm pretty light on my feet, butyou...” Carrion shook his head in surrender.

Carrionwaslight on his feet. Despite my doubts, he was well-practiced with a sword and knew how to handle the weapon, but Ren made him look like an infant struggling to find its feet for the first time. It would never be a fair fight between them.

Ren disregarded Carrion's complaining. “I've fought alongside humans who roared in the face of certain death, held their own in the charge, and emerged victorious from battle. They did their people proud. Will you give in so easily?” He batted the end of his sword against Carrion's again in a goading, playful way. The sound of metal on metal rang out along the bank of the frozen river. “And shame their memories in the process? Hmm?”

“Well, fuck me. When you put it like that...”

Carrion attacked. It could only be called an attack because Carrion was the one to move first. Ren took nimble, casual steps back as Carrion advanced, but he conceded the ground to the man, all the while easily rebuffing his strikes, reading every one of his moves before he'd even made it and generally making Carrion look like an idiot without even trying.

“In Loyanbal, at the center of the plains, the temperature drops, and the Darn becomes a band of solid silver. That is where the water freezes first.” Ren parried Carrion's sword awayas if batting away an irritating fly. “Early in the season, the ice is over eight inches thick. Strong. Safe. Solid enough to support a rider and horse and permit them to cross.”

I watched Ren closely. The loose set of his shoulders. The way he twisted at his hips, not his shoulders. The real work was happening lower to the ground, though. It was impressive how he moved, stepping and transferring his weight, graceful and catlike, never crossing his feet. He had complete mastery over his body. He made fighting look as easy as breathing.

Clang!

Clang!

“Oof!”Carrion crossed his feet—heclearly hadn't been watching Ren's technique—then tried to retreat when Ren lunged at last, and the thief went down. He hit the ground so hard that I heard his teeth crack together from ten feet away. “In the dead of winter, the Darn becomes the only means of travel between the mountains and the sea,” Ren said, circling his prey. “The passes choke with snow and are blocked. Traders, pilgrims, and pirates alike all tread the creaking Darn in order to make a living.”

Carrion threw up his hands. “I surrender! I'm...fucking beat.” He fought to swallow. “Torture her now. I need to...catch my breath.”