Page 27 of Sunsplitter

“Sloppy work, is all,” Avroz continued. “Killing Verne, rather than forcing her to step down. You caused a stir among the Old Houses. Nothing that can’t be smoothed over.”

There it was. A lecture. Antal’s father had summoned him here just for a lecture?

“Enough, Avroz,” Yme snapped. “No more politics tonight. Antal hasn’t been home in far too long, he ought to—”

“Rest,” Antal interjected. “I’ve had a long day before my journey here. I’d appreciate some rest. If you’ll excuse me.”

He stood. Antal allowed himself some small credit, for doing so without his father’s permission.

His mother looked up at him, entreating. “Antal—”

“I’ll be glad to see your garden tomorrow morning, azaevi. Thank you for the meal.”

He bowed his head and touched his highest antler tip to her.

Grudgingly, to Avroz.

At last, he faced Fionamara. She hadn’t moved from her seat at the side of the room—her eyes wider than usual. Her face too pale. That might be what broke Antal worse than anything else tonight.

“Come,” he commanded.

He left the sitting room, relieved to hear Fionamara’s soft footsteps following.

Fi was not too proud to admit that joining this trip may have been a poor decision.

Tack it down to her stubborn personality. To that dumb little thing her heart did when Antal made sad faces. To thinking that, well, she’d gotten to know one nice daeyari, and she’d survived two shitty ones. Certainly, meeting a couple more couldn’t be that bad?

“Come,” Antal said as he turned to leave.

The command snapped Fi from her stupor. As if she’d been focusing so hard on sitting still, on not grimacing, on hardly breathing, she almost forgot how to stand.

She couldn’t stop replaying the sound of that man’s throat emptying. The snap of bones.

The flicker of a moment when Avroz’s gaze had cut to her while he’d done it.

Fi knew this game. Bratty humans, bratty daeyari, similar enough. She knew Avroz was watching to see her flinch. That Antal’s “loyal Arbiter” wasn’tsupposedto flinch. She’d bitten her tongue until it ached and not given that bastard the satisfaction of seeing her react.

She just hoped he couldn’t sense how fast her heart was racing. The twist in her stomach at seeing him treat a living human like cuts of meat.

Fi willed her knees into cooperation and followed her daeyari out of the room. Avroz’s gaze followed his son, cold and contemplative.

Then, one slicing look to her, eyes dangerously narrowed.

That cruel creature was nothing like Antal.

The back hall was quiet. Dim. Fractal energy conduits in the walls radiated low light as they passed; an aesthetic touch, considering daeyari could see in the dark.

Antal slipped into his room like a shade fleeing sunlight. Fi glanced down the hall—confirming no prying eyes, terse voices distant in the sitting room—before she followed him. The door, some odd kind of metal, closed behind her without a sound.

The only light came from the garden beyond the windows, crystal lamps and a purple twilight that seemed oddly unchanged since they’d arrived. Antal kept his back to her. Breaths heavy. Tail a terse swish.

“Where did he come from?” Fi asked in seasonspeak. Her voice betrayed a crack, now that they were alone.

Antal didn’t face her. “From this Plane. Or any other Plane under daeyari control. They’re… not hard to find, when an Old House asks for donations.”

“This is how you ate? For twocenturies?”

Fi knew what daeyari were. Her entire species knew daeyari were sharp teeth and cold claws and red eyes in the dark. But Antal was different. He was soft. He was caring. He didn’t see Fi’s people as mere food to be butchered on the floor. He was—