Page 224 of Sunsplitter

Fionamara tugged him with her through the Curtain.

They emerged on a Shard, cold rock underfoot. A weightless breeze rustled petrified trees, their leaves like silver gossamer. The depth of the Void arced overhead, impenetrable black, a familiar smell of…

“There’s the happy couple,” Ixli greeted.

She approached with tail high, golden bands proud on her antlers.

“Marriage suits you, Antal,” Ixli teased. “I’ve never seen you smile like such a lovesick kitten.”

Swiftly, Antal’s surprise turned to suspicion. A conspiring look passed between Ixli and Fionamara, concerning in any circumstance. More scents teased his nose, seafoam and jasmine. Syvr entered the Shard from another Curtain, Yme at their side. Antal took in the gathering with a slow, perplexed blink, weighing Syvr’s mischievous grin, his mother’s timid tail.

Realization bloomed in his chest. So slow, so deep, Antal didn’t dare believe it.

Fionamara took his hands in hers.

“You don’t have a father to give you away.” She shrugged. “Neither do I. So we’re even, on that count.”

Antal had no words. A human wedding was enough. He’d reassured her of that again and again. Enough to have her at his side, and Avroz would never approve a daeyari bonding between his son and a human.

But Avroz wasn’t here.

“But who will giveyouaway, human?” Syvr said, locking one arm with Fionamara’s.

“It’s a daeyari ceremony, Syvr.” Ixli took Fionamara’s other arm. “Suppose, she might borrow some daeyari for the occasion?”

Fionamara’s laugh was imperious. Arms linked, she walked away with Syvr and Ixli, toward the edge of the Shard.

Yme stayed behind with Antal.

His mother was a difficult creature to read. More difficult than Avroz in some regards, if only because Antal hadn’t spent as much time dissecting her ticks, hadn’t had survival hanging on every subtle expression.

But when her tail brushed his, she was as soft as she’d ever been. A lifelong comfort—not always there when he’d needed her, but a comfort all the same. Now, at last, his mother looked at him with no veil, no passive avoidance, only bright eyes and an earnest grin.

“It’s good to see you smile, Antal. I don’t know if I’ve told you that.”

“Azaevi—”

“Shh.” She ran a claw down his braid, smoothing the strands that had come loose during the night’s festivities. “You were never like him. He hated that sometimes, every piece of you that strayed, but I see now… those are the best parts, aren’t they?”

Antal swallowed a scratch in his throat. Yme brushed fond knuckles to his cheek.

“I know it’s not the same without his blessing,” she said. “But you have mine. For what it’s worth.”

It was worth more than he could say, more than Antal had ever thought he’d earn.

She offered her arm. Antal took it, tapping his forehead to hers, tails twining at the tips.

The Shard came to an abrupt end, a rock ledge breaking off into Void black beyond. The division between two worlds. Fionamara leaned over the edge, inspecting the abyss.

Normally, each partner would be flanked by two parents, one generation handing off the next. This ceremony was abnormal: Syvr and Ixli taking Fionamara’s hands, Yme holding Antal’s alone. But when the observers pressed the couple’s palms together, the effect was the same, a warm stir in Antal’s chest at being able to share this moment with daeyari who mattered.

With their duty satisfied, the onlookers stepped back. Antal and Fionamara faced each other, perched on the edge of the Shard, a maw of Void beside them. She met his gaze with her typical bravado, fearless. Only, Antal knew well enough to spot the tightness on her lips.

“Do you know what to do?” he whispered.

She scoffed. “Please, Antlers.”

Antal held her with a pointed gaze.