Page 218 of Sunsplitter

One of his first acts on the Daey Celva—after the treason business—had been nominating Syvr to take Verne’s former territory. The process had been, true to Syvr’s prediction, swift: Antal’s vote a given, the remaining territory neighbors swayed by some combination of dazzling smile or owed favors.

Then, Ixli’s vote had passed just last week, Antal and Syvr agreeing unanimously to appoint her to the territory Tyvo had abdicated. The celebration afterward had been momentous, all three daeyari gathered in Antal’s sitting room and laughing like they wanted the stars to hear, several bottles of swirling silver liquor uncorked between them.

“More than that,” Antal said, bolder, “I’ve spoken with other territory lords, interested in an alternative to living sacrifices. Across the Season-Locked Planes. Maybe farther.”

Qirza returned a thoughtful hum. “You aren’t the first to try something like this. None as extreme as your version. Though you are, I’d say, in a unique position to attempt these changes and have your humans believe they’re genuine, given your prior history of territory governance. And given, of course…”

She glanced to the stairs of the capitol building.

Fionamara descended the steps, head held tall as a Winter-honed deity.

Sunlight tangled in her hair. Cold air bloomed color in her cheeks, darker red painting her lips. She wore black bootsembroidered with silver snow fractals, a silver jacket crisp as moonbeams, the cuffs and collar inlaid with red stone—his colors, and hers.

And of course, that ruthless silver eye.

Fionamara grinned at both immortals, touching a finger to the spot above her head where antlerswouldbe. Antal guessed that, for many daeyari, the gesture would be obnoxious at best, insolent at worst. A grin tipped Qirza’s lips.

“Greetings, councilor,” Fionamara said in daeyari.

“Voz-relev,” Qirza returned.

Void-touched.

Several daeyari had begun using the title when Fionamara had testified before the Daey Celva. She’d donned a smirk and not admonished them.

Her greeting for Antal was softer, veiled lashes and a gloved hand offered at her side. He lay his tail in her palm, warmth blooming in his chest at the light squeeze of her fingers.

He braced, on instinct, for a challenge.

Qirza said nothing, head tilted in mild intrigue. On the day Antal had accused Avroz of treason, Qirza had permitted Fionamara entry to the Daey Celva gallery. Fionamara’s eye made her part immortal, she’d argued.

But Qirza would have allowed it anyway—she’d admitted weeks later, a whispered passing between her and Antal in a hallway—after being told Fionamara was his partner.

Bonds of choice are stronger than bonds of blood, Qirza had said, then kept walking, as though there was no more discussion needed.

“How have you enjoyed Thomaskweld?” Fionamara asked. “I hopeCouncilorAntal has given you a memorable tour.”

“Indeed,” Qirza returned. “You have my support for this new direction. I hope the transition continues peaceably. Humansand daeyari still have a long history of grievances.”

“Well.” Fionamara braced a hand on her hip. “Maybe, if the Daey Celva had a human representative, my people would feel our voices were better heard?”

Antal worried, still, she pushed too much. He flicked his tail in her hand, urging delicacy.

Qirza scoured her with sharp eyes. Then, an amused look at Antal. “Perhaps, if a council member were to make the proposal, we could discuss it.”

He pitied any daeyari on that council, not realizing what beast they were up against.

“But I’ll be on my way,” Qirza said, lighter, the hint of a grin. “I wouldn’t want to take too much of your time, when you have a wedding to plan.”

Antal bowed his lowest yet. “I’ll be honored to see you there, speaker.”

Qirza departed with a snap of static on Antal’s tongue, optimism warming his chest.

“A human councilor…” Fionamara mused, a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

“They’d have to be fierce,” Antal said. “Accustomed to wrangling beasts.”

Her grin alone could flay any of those old daeyari. “They don’t stand a chance.”