Page 169 of Sunsplitter

“Inelegant.” Ixli tapped above her own brow. “The temple?”

Fionamara hummed. “No. How about…” She combed both hands through her hair, pulling it back to reveal her ears.

Not as visible as antlers, but close to it. She’d wear the marks well.

Syvr and Ixli looked to Antal. He sat back on his heels. Leveled his voice.

“The daeyari were gifted immortal life by Veshri…”

Antal repeated Qirza’s speech, the story of how daeyari and aedari had met. Had clashed.

“Each hand in the fight is to be recognized,” he said. “Who vouches for this warrior?”

Ixli spoke. “I stand witness for this…warrior.” She chose her word carefully. Not daeyari. Not human. More important than either. “I affirm, the aedari died by her hands.”

Syvr sprawled back on their elbows. “And you call a venerated Sunsplitter to bear witness?” They looked up to the statue of Veshri. “Well, he can’t not vouch for you.”

Maybe Veshrihadvouched for her, longer ago than Syvr realized.

Antal opened the vial of aedari blood. Once he’d dipped his claw into the viscous liquid, he hesitated. Carving antlers differed from carving skin.

Fionamara sat on her knees. Fists clutched against her thighs.

“Do it,” she said.

As she commanded.

He cupped her jaw, angling her head. The gold had to be seared in place—in this case, not engraving an antler, butrather, a burn that would leave a gold-fused scar. Heat sizzled down Antal’s finger as he Shaped a current. He touched hot energy to her ear.

Fionamara’s flinch was agony, her teeth gritted. But she didn’t cry out.

Syvr watched, tail swaying. “Does it—”

“Yes, itfucking hurts, Syvr,” she hissed. “Thank you for asking.”

“Then talk to me,” they said. “Tell me how you met Antal.”

Fionamara barked a laugh. “I blew up his capitol building.”

“I thought you claimed no responsibility,” Antal growled, focused on his work.

“Semantics, daeyari.”

What followed was a not particularly flattering account of their first meeting in Thomaskweld. Fionamara’s visit to Antal’s shrine. Their plotting. Their alliance with Nyskya. Their victory over Verne. He let her speak with only minor commentary. It seemed to take her mind off the pain.

As she talked, Antal seared a golden ring onto both ears, starting at the inner shell, curving around the outside. Thick, clean lines, enough to draw attention.

When he finished, Fionamara touched the work with gentle fingers. Her skin turned angry red around the marks, her eyes shimmering, but she came away grinning.

“How does it look?”

Antal swept his gaze over her ears. Her face. Her uncompromising grin. “Stunning.”

Ixli shifted onto her knees. Always odd to see her flustered, that anxious tail flick. She offered her box to Fionamara.

“A gift. For a fellow warrior. It was an honor to fight with you, and I…” Ixli’s brow creased fiercer. “I’m sorry I judged you poorly when we met.”

Fionamara accepted the box with slow hands, a reverent nod.As if her eyes weren’t gleaming like a magpie underneath. She popped open the lid and—