FISHER WIPED blood from his mouth, fighting to get to his feet. It looked as though the effort of it cost him the last of his strength, but slowly, he managed it. My heart nearly shattered when he staggered towards us and I registered the true extent of his injuries.
“You can barely walk.”
There was so much pain in his eyes. It wasn’t caused by the lacerations that crisscrossed his body. It was because of this place.
“I’ll be fine, Osha.” Inside my head, his voice was a whisper.
Lorreth reached for Fisher to help him stand, but Harron snarled, shoving him back. “What have they done to you?” the warrior demanded.
Fisher smiled, his teeth stained with blood. “I believe you called it…payback? Right, Harron?”
“Less than you deserve for what you did to me,” the guard spat. “I would have killed you myself if—”
“Shut your mouth, human,” Belikon snapped. “Kingfisher has a story to share. Tell them how you thought you could trick me, dog.”
Wearily, Fisher spoke at last. “The horde had gathered at the gates of Gillethrye. Tens of thousands of vampires. Our armies in the south had been drawn into a battle with a much smaller force, but it had been a distraction. We found out that the better part of Malcolm’s feeders had marched on Gillethrye too late. I couldn’t move enough warriors through my shadow gate, so I brought Ren and some of the other wolves to try and save as many as we could.”
“The arrogance,” Belikon hissed. “Seven warriors against twenty thousand. He truly thought he could hold them back!”
Fisher continued on, ignoring the king. “We didn’t get here in time. The horde was already inside the city when we arrived. The Fae had all been out in the streets, celebrating the Festival of the First Song, which only made the hordes’ job easier. They were swept through the city like locusts, feeding on anything they came across, either draining their victims or consigning them to an agonizing death.
Lorreth hung his head, nodding as if he knew all of this and the retelling of it hurt his soul. But his eyes snapped up when Fisher said, “I left Ren and the others, and I went to find Malcolm. I’d decided I was going to try and kill him by myself. But it wasn’t Malcolm that I found. At least not at first. It was the bastard who murdered my mother.”
Belikon ran his tongue over his teeth. “You think you can shame me by airing my sins? Think again. Your bitch of a mother was supposed to be the greatest oracle of our time, but she was useless.” He cackled. “I admit it. As soon as she was done pushing out the brat I forced upon her, I slit the bitch’s throat. I was sick of her fucking lies.”
“She never lied to you,” Fisher said flatly. “Her life could have depended on it, and she would only have been able to tell you the truth.”
Belikon brushed Fisher’s words aside. “Just get on with it. Tell them about the deal we made.”
“Malcolm arrived at the head of his host, and that’s when I learned that he and Belikon weren’t adversaries at all. They were allies and had been working together since before the blood curse. I didn’t know that Madra was also in league with them until today. I wanted to bargain for the few citizens of Gillethrye who were still alive, and Belikon proposed a deal. He found a coin. One used only in Gillethrye. The smallest denomination of currency the Fae had here. He said if the coin hit the ground and landed leaf-side up, Malcolm would call off his horde and leave the city without hurting another living thing. But if the coin hit the ground and landed fish-side up, he would take the city as his own and destroy it, and I would have to leave those still alive to their deaths and meet him on the field of battle at a later date.”
“You’re leaving out all of the best parts,” Belikon interjected. “He also wasn’t allowed to touch the coin or influence the way it fell. While the coin toss was being decided, he wasn’t allowed to harm me or my brother. Not a hair on either of our pretty heads. And, until the outcome of the coin toss
had been decided, he wasn’t allowed to speak of the deal or of the fact that Malcolm and I were brothers. And he agreed. He was so desperate to save a handful of peasants that he made the blood oath with me.”
Malcolm called from the dais. “Pay attention, now! This is my favorite part!”
Belikon paused before Fisher. He stood with the bulb of his nose an inch away from his cheek, his presence meant to intimidate, I thought, but Fisher stared straight at me. He didn’t acknowledge the evil piece of shit. “I tossed the coin…” he said.
“And I caught it!” Malcolm held his glass aloft, toasting himself.
“The coin never hit the ground,” I whispered.
“The coin never hit the ground!” Belikon jeered.
A bottomless sadness flickered in Fisher’s beautiful eyes. The quicksilver was fine as lace, threaded all through his right iris, completely still.
“Malcolm’s children feasted, didn’t they, Dog?” Belikon leered, shoving his face closer to Fisher’s, so that his forehead butted against the side of Fisher’s skull. Still, he got no reaction out of him. It was amazing how controlled he was. My eyes swam with unshed tears as I focused on the wings that spread out from underneath the silver plate at his throat.
“I torched the city, then,” Fisher said. He didn’t sugarcoat it. Didn’t dress it up. “I barricaded it and trapped everyone inside. Malcolm’s horde had either bitten or killed everyone. They were transitioning right before our eyes. Gillethrye was home to nearly two hundred thousand High Fae and Lesser Fae. If they were allowed to join Malcolm’s horde, they would have swallowed the entire realm. So I gave the order. I did what had to be done.”
“A cunt of a move,” Malcolm said, pouting coquettishly. He’d come down from the dais and was in the process of helping Madra descend the stone steps. The fine hairs on my arms bristled as the two of them approached. “I love bending the rules in my favor. I don’t love it so much when they’re bent against me. So, I decided to torment poor little Kingfisher some more. I have to admit, it was a little cruel, but…”
“You’ve always had such an affinity for turning cruelty into an art form, Brother,” Madra simpered. She let go of Malcolm’s hand and slowly walked a circle around Fisher, her eyes lit up with intrigue. “He is unbearably
handsome, isn’t he? I can see why you wanted to keep him as a pet. I can’t wait to hear what happened next.”
“Well, I created the most diabolically lethal labyrinth I could conjure in my mind, dear sister,” Malcolm said, as if this should have been obvious. “I hid Belikon’s coin at its center, and then I created this colosseum around it and filled the stands with the perpetually burning bodies of all the creatures our poor little bleeding heart here had wanted to save. All he had to do to end their suffering was find the coin and make it fall to the ground. Obviously, it would be too late to save the Fae from death, but at least it would end their suffering. And then,” he added with a dramatic flourish, “he would be free to seek his vengeance by calling me out onto the battlefield.”
Madra ran her fingers along Fisher’s jaw, wetting her bottom lip.
“Don’t fucking touch him!” I thrashed, trying to tear myself free of the guards, but the hold they had on me tightened. The queen smirked, moving even closer to Fisher so that her peaked nipples, poking through the sheer material of her dress, brushed his arm as she circled him.
Fisher growled, low and menacing. He turned hate-filled eyes on the queen of Zilvaren. “Remove yourself from me, or you won’t like what happens next.”
“Oh, please.” Madra waved away his threat. “I hate to tell you this, but I can do anything to you that I want. Malcolm has always let me play with his toys.”
“I play back,” Fisher spat. “It might not be today, but oh, I am coming to find you, Madra. Fear the shadows, bitch. I’m made of them. One night soon, I’ll climb out of one and slit your fucking throat.
“What a lucky girl I am.” Madra feigned nonchalance, but I could see it, even from here, plain as day. Fisher’s venom had shaken her a little. “And what, pray tell, have I done to deserve such special attention from the likes of you?”
“You spayed my mate when she was a fucking child,” he seethed. “For that alone, I’ll make your undying existence an unending agony. An eternity of suffering the likes of which even your evil mind cannot comprehend. You’ll know no peace at my hands. I will destroy your empire and erase your name from the annals of time. When I am done with your legacy, Madra the Undying will never have existed. And you’ll live on at my behest, suffering for all of eternity. And no one will know. And no one will care.”
His words rocked me. The pure, unadulterated hatred in them. I—I had no idea that it had affected him this badly. When I’d told him about what had been done to me, he’d reacted strangely, yes, but…to provoke a response from him like this?
Kingfisher of the Ajun Gate was on his knees in the dirt. He was broken and bleeding, but his promise of retribution was still terrifying enough to make a queen tremble. Madra staggered back, her smile sliding from her face.
“I see what you mean, Brother,” she said shakily, looking to Belikon. “He is quite foul-tempered, isn’t he?”
“Do you mind? You’re ruining my story,” Malcolm huffed.
Madra attempted to marshal herself, but she couldn’t quite look at Fisher now. “You’re right, darling. I apologize. And what did our wayward hero do then?”
“He entered my labyrinth and entertained us all for such a very long time.” Malcolm clapped Fisher on the back. “I sent some of my other friends to play with him sometimes. From time to time, I would visit him myself. We always had such scintillating conversations. And then, one day, he made it to the center of the labyrinth. I have to say, I was shocked. I thought it would take him a lot longer than it did. What was it, Fisher? Fifty years?”
“Fifty-five.” His eyes were back on me now, locked fast, as if I were an anchor in a storm, the only thing capable of grounding him.
“That’s right. Fifty-five. He spent the next eight years trying to find the coin once he reached the center, didn’t you, my love?”
For the first time since the three regents had started toying with him, Fisher flinched.
I did, too.
My love. Of all the things Malcolm could have called him…
Fisher…
He gave me the smallest shake of his head. Don’t. Don’t give them anything. It’ll only make them worse.
Malcolm chuckled. “Then, one day, Taladaius was checking in on our Kingfisher, and he said that the ground shook so violently that the stone cracked beneath his feet, and a hole appeared. And lo and behold: a secret.”
“Let me guess,” Madra said. “There was a quicksilver pool below your lovely labyrinth. And it had been awakened.”
“Exactly! Very astute.”
Belikon narrowed rheumy eyes at me accusingly. “The very same vibrations rocked my palace.”
Malcolm tutted. “Such mayhem. Such chaos! Our Kingfisher took one look at the quicksilver pool, and Taladaius said he dropped down into the hole and waded into it without a second thought. Disappeared and didn’t come back. I was surprised, Fisher. I gave you the opportunity to leave my labyrinth so many times, but you never accepted. And then you just upped and left out of the blue? With all of these poor creatures waiting on you to end their suffering? It seemed highly out of character. Tell me,” Malcolm said, spinning on the balls of his feet. “I’ve been dying to know. After a hundred and ten years in that labyrinth, what made you finally leave?”
“You bored him to fucking tears and he couldn’t take it anymore,” Carrion sniped. Up until now, he’d held his tongue, but it was a miracle that he’d lasted this long. Carrion wasn’t the type to let an opportunity to offend someone pass him by, regardless of how dire the situation was. Malcolm stalked forward and closed his hand around Carrion’s throat. The Vampire king bared his fangs as he leaned in close to Carrion’s neck.
“I don’t like you, human. Something about you smells…off.”
“That’s probably the weird…moss…these water sprites rubbed…all over me…” Carrion croaked. “It had a strange…funk…to it.”
Gods alive, he didn’t know when to quit.
“Smart mouth,” Malcolm sneered. “I’ll enjoy draining you once all of this is done.”
“You want to know why I went into that quicksilver?” Fisher asked. It was a distraction. Something to divert attention away from Carrion. If we ever got out of this alive, I was going to wring the smuggler’s neck for his stupidity, and I thought Fisher might, too. Fisher’s ploy worked, though. Malcolm let go of Carrion, disgust playing over his features as he turned back to Fisher.
“He left because the madness in his veins broke him at last,” Belikon ventured. “We all knew it would eventually. He was afflicted with it long before he showed up at the gates of Gillethrye.”
“Is that true, my love?” Malcolm asked. “Has that quicksilver in your head finally pushed you beyond the bounds of sanity?”
Fisher rubbed his forehead. “I’ve felt better. But no. That isn’t the reason why I left.” He angled his shoulders a little, shifting his weight into the
balls of his feet. I was watching him so intently that I saw it happen. I’d seen him fight enough times to know that Fisher didn’t just shift his weight for no reason.
I stiffened, eyes widening. What are you doing, Fisher?
His brows twitched. Barely noticeable. “Just don’t move.” To Malcolm, he said, “I went into that quicksilver because I felt my father’s sword calling to me. And I knew I’d need it for this.”
He became smoke. He was hurt and tired, but I’d never witnessed him move this fast. He came for me. One hand closed on my hip. The other reached to the other hip—for the sword there, sitting in its scabbard. He drew Solace, the blade becoming a flare of brilliant light in the ash-choked air, and then Fisher was spinning. He moved like liquid. Like lightning. Like vengeance.
Ducking low, he spun, reversing the weapon so the tip of the blade pointed down. Dropping to one knee, he clasped the hilt in both hands and drove the sword in an arc, back and up…
…into Belikon’s stomach.
It happened fast. Really fast. I was barely able to track the movement.
Belikon hadn’t expected it, that was for sure. A wet gurgle came out of the Yvelian King’s mouth as Fisher ripped his father’s sword free, spun again, and drove the tip straight into Belikon’s throat. He gritted his teeth as he leaned his weight on the weapon, and the gleaming blade pushed all the way out the back of Belikon’s neck.
“I don’t need magic to mess you up, you fuck,” he growled. “This is for me. But mostly, it’s for my parents.”
Madra, Undying Queen of the shining Silver City, the Banner in the North, unleashed a blood-curdling scream. And all hell broke loose.
