Page 33 of Sunsplitter

“Do I want to know what happened?” Fionamara asked.

Where to begin? Antal no longer thought of Ixli in those intimate ways, but she’d been a friend once. That loss cut deeper now.

“Ixli was born in the territories. She came to the Twilit Plane for her travel years. A skilled warrior. Avroz accepted her as one of his kezri.”

Fionamara, shrewd as ever, considered his words with narrowed eyes. “She’s more loyal to your father than to you?”

“I was never sure.” In the end, that divide had been too much. Tonight, Ixli had seemed genuine. But Avroz had a hand in everything. Antal could never lower his guard.

And still, he’d been outplayed.

Antal had assumed Avroz summoned him here because of Verne. Or because of his refusal to approve a new daeyari for Verne’s old territory. Or, worst of all cases, the Daey Celva had learned of Antal’s new governing edicts, his softer hand for humans.

“He told Ixli I was coming back,” Antal said. “Why would Avroz say that? Why would he send me away for five decades, not a single word in all that time, then drag me back here without telling me what hewants?”

“He can’t make you stay,” Fionamara whispered. Like she wasn’t sure who might overhear. Antal wasn’t, either.

He hesitated.

“He can’tmakeyou stay, Antal. If that’s not what you want.”

“No. He can’t make me.” Antal hoped that was true with every shred of claw and antler.

Fionamara took another step toward him. Stopped herself.

He wanted to touch her. By the merciless Void, he wanted to pull her into his bed and hold her against him, drown the memories of this place in her firewood smell.

“Just three days,” she said with resolve. The strength he didn’t have. The strength they both needed to survive this.

“Three days,” he mustered. He could endure Avroz for that long. “Yme will wish to show me her garden in the morning. A reprieve from my father, at least.”

Fionamara’s lips twisted. A dangerous thing to study when he couldn’t claim them, couldn’t use his tongue to melt her scowl into moans.

“Your mother,” she said. “You don’t talk about her much. You’ve said it was Avroz who killed Razik. But did she…”

Antal’s tail flicked. “She didn’t stop him.”

Yme had stood to the side as Razik bled out. Eyes wide as Avroz had pinned Antal beneath his claws. Doing nothing.That was the day Antal learned he couldn’t rely on her to protect him.

Ixli, too, had drifted away. He’d had no one.

Until Fionamara. He wouldn’t lose her now.

“You should go,” he said. “The longer you stay, the more likely to draw suspicion.”

She kept her chin up as she reached for the door—an ache, only betrayed by the glint in her eyes. “Of course. Until the morning, my Lord Daeyari.”

She mouthed a silent “I love you.”

Then she was gone.

Antal sat a long time with the quiet. He watched moths flit beyond his windows, studied how the dusk light fell across his floor. When at last he curled into his bed, he thought of how much he hated this house. He hated the empty space beside him.

He hated how much he’d missed the twilight through his windows, the smell of jasmine lulling him to sleep.

The sun didn’t set on the Twilit Plane.

Fi became aware of this fun bit of trivia, owing to the fact that she slept like shit. A comfortable bed. Pleasant climate. Yet she lay awake most of the night, imagining Avroz’s claws, or Ixli’s teeth, or Antal curled like a sad little animal a few rooms over. The light through her windows dimmed then brightened again, perpetual dusk drawn out over hours.