Page 131 of Sunsplitter

“Your human wedding. Are we invited?”

“You…wantto come?”

Another silence settled over the rooftop. Syvr’s gaze was a scalpel, impossible to escape. They frowned.

Then pulled Antal into an embrace.

Their hand cupped the back of his neck, claws gentle, foreheads pressed together. As close as daeyari ever got, all the sharpness of predators surrendered to proximity. Antal froze. Flinched, when Syvr’s tail brushed his.

“Little daeyari,” Syvr said softly. “Of course I want to come.”

There were cracks in Antal’s chest. Fifty years alone. Fifty years convinced he’d never have this again. The buzz of alcohol faded too quickly, a sliver of stark reality as he gripped Syvr back and held them like a lifeline in the Void.

“Ixli,” Syvr said. “Get that second bottle open—”

Both of them toppled as Ixli flung herself into the huddle. Her arm wrapped Syvr’s shoulders. The other hugged Antal so fiercely, his ribs threatened to crack.

“We’ll be there,” she vowed. “And we’ll be menaces.”

“I’ll give an awful speech,” Syvr added.

“I’ll bring cloth for the bleeding.”

“Human weddings don’t involve bleeding, Ixli.”

Antal had never been so blissfully broken. Not since Fionamara.

Maybe she was right. Maybe there was a path here where he didn’t have to sever every heartstring of his first two centuries. Where he could bare the soft, unguarded viscera of himself to another of his kind, without being shredded by claws and teeth.

Ixli uncorked the second bottle. The three daeyari huddled close, tails sprawled together on the tiles, coiled near to brushing. Antal downed another dose of scorching liquor, and his city swirled like shooting stars, and everything seemed as possible as the sky was wide.

“It’s a gorgeous city,” Syvr drawled, head tipped back.

“It is.” Antal stumbled on the words. “I hope it lasts.”

“You’ll be fine.” Syvr elbowed his ribs. “The Daey Celva has too many old daeyari, stuck in their ways. But across the widerterritories? There are other mushy daeyari like you. Not asextremeas you. But I’ve met plenty who oppose the old systems for governing humans. Even some alliances between neighboring territories, sharing meals so they take fewer sacrifices.”

Give those crotchety old daeyari a shake up, Fionamara had said. She thought his joining the Daey Celva could be a good thing. That he coulddo more goodas part of the council.

Her words burrowed into him. He’d spent a century loathing the very idea of the Daey Celva. Now, he struggled to piece apart how much of that ire was directed at the council itself—and how much toward his father, choosing a path for him.

It was true, he’d have more influence. The chance to push for change in more than just Thomaskweld.

“It wasn’t bad,” Ixli mused. “The meal. As good as fresh.”

“Tell that to the Daey Celva.” Antal slumped, indulging a petty scowl. “Their territory protocols are a millennium old. And the candidates they’ve offered to replace Verne are atrocious.” Another place where he wouldn’t mind having more influence…

Syvr’s grin turned mischievous. “Maybe I should volunteer.”

Antal and Ixli laughed.

“You?” she said. “A territory lord?”

“Why not?” They counted on their claws. “I’m worldly as fuck. I’ve dissected how hundreds of governments operate—even dismantled a couple, but that stays between us. Plus, compared to you two clumps of dour ether? Other daeyarilikeme. I’d get approved in a snap.”

“Oh, sure,” Antal teased. “Still only solves one of my problems, with Tyvo abdicating.”

“Let Ixli take that territory.”