Page 128 of Sunsplitter

“Oh?” Syvr’s head tilted. “A visitanddinner? Take my false heart”—they pressed a hand to their chest—“From this new system of yours?”

“Already dead,” Antal said. “But fresh. Relatively. I understand if you don’t…”

“I’d be delighted.” Syvr beamed.

Ixli was more hesitant. A long pause as her tail swished. Then, a nod that stunned Antal to his core.

That swift? Thateasy?

He flinched when Fionamara patted his shoulder. “Isn’t thiswonderful! I hope you three enjoy your meal.” She flashed a smug grin.

Antal fell in love with her all over again.

“You won’t be joining us?” Syvr asked.

Fionamara barked a laugh. “No. I’ll pass on corpse dissection.Thanks.” Her arm fell around Kashvi’s shoulders. “What do you say, governor? The daeyari are taken care of. That leaves you and I plenty of time to get very drunk.”

Kashvi glared at Fionamara’s arm as if debating whether to gnaw it off. Then, a nod.

Antal took a deep breath. He sought strength in his friends’ swift acceptance—in Fionamara’s parting glance, urging him on.

“Let’s be off, then.” He held his hands out to Syvr and Ixli.

The Thomaskweld hospital was quiet in the evening. Dim, here in the back halls, with their pale tiles and closed doors. Antal kept out of sight of the lobby, the main patient areas, wary of startling anyone. The basement corridor was empty all the way to the morgue.

A human woman waited for him. Antal recognized the surgeon, outfitted in a clean white smock with long sleeves.

“Lord Daeyari.” She bowed in greeting.

“Doctor Ivreza,” he returned with equal respect.

Their faces always shifted when he remembered their names. Before Fionamara? That face had been fear, as if the safest place to be was out of their daeyari’s attention. Now, there was a softening. A familiarity, like early blooms in a thaw.

Wariness remained. The doctor eyed two more daeyari lurking in the corridor.

“Guests,” Antal assured her. “They’ll do no harm. On my word.”

She nodded then unlocked the door, holding it open for Antal to enter.

When this arrangement began, the hospital had asked if he still wanted meals delivered to his forest shrine. That seemed an unnecessary hassle for everyone. Next, they’d asked if they should offer a more comfortable dining chamber, but steel and stone were easiest to clean. In the end, they’d given him one of the autopsy rooms. They’d removed the antiseptics and dissecting tools, cleared the walls, installed softer lights.

The door clicked closed behind the three daeyari.

A body lay upon the floor, wrapped in a clean white sheet.

“Apologies for the dour setting,” Antal said. “Not the most comfortable dining chamber. Truly, if you don’t want to stay, I understand—”

“Stop apologizing,” Ixli chided. “You’re a gracious host to offer a meal.”

Her tail swatted his calf. Then, the briefest brush to his, a pledge of support he didn’t realize he needed until heshudderedin response. He’d told Fionamara he missed his time with other daeyari. Now that he had them, he felt tense as a windblown shiverpine.

He knelt beside the body, settling upon a fabric pad brought to soften the concrete. Ixli and Syvr sat across from him. Customary, for host and guests. Antal pulled back the sheet, uncovering the face.

He knew the man’s name: Ivan.

They’d spoken, while Ivan still lived. Antal strived to meet every mortal who volunteered to donate, to know them in life.

Ivan had known he was dying. Cancer, the humans called it, their own body turning against itself. Shapers could target energy to attack small tumors, but if the affliction spreadtoo wide, there was little they could do without damaging healthy tissue.