Page 36 of Sunsplitter

Strips of light lined the windows, the shelves. Like the rest of the house, there were few visible energy conduits to carry the current, all subtle mechanisms incorporated into the building itself. It was sleeker technology than anything on the Winter Plane.

How simple her kind must seem to these creatures.

The door closed. Avroz prowled around Fi, that same appraising tilt to his head. He settled in the center of the lounge, arms spread comfortably across the pillows, tail curled at his side.

Fi stayed standing, thanks. The door was maybe three paces behind her. She could sprint for it if this turned sour.

“Is this your first visit to the Twilit Plane?” he asked.

Fi paused. Considered. Found nothing dangerous in the question. “Yes.”

“How are you finding it so far?”

“I haven’t seen much.”

“Of course.” His grin curved slow, revealing a fang. “Perhaps Antal can show you more, if you ask him.”

That one sent alarms blaring in Fi’s head. She kept her jaw tight. Tone mild.

“I doubt we’ll have time,” she said. “Business to return to, back on the Winter Plane.”

Avroz studied her with the acuity of any predator. His dark red irises, a smolder in the dim room. His black sclera, cold as the Void. Fi knew how to endure those chilling attributes. Something else unnerved her about him. Something wrong. She appraised the confident tilt of his jaw, the relaxed sprawl against the cushions.

Down to his tail, curled beside him. It was completely motionless. Not a single twitch to tell intention, an even more expert mask than Antal’s.

That poor, soft-hearted fool. How had this place not eaten him alive?

“How did you meet my son?” Avroz asked, too mild.

“Wouldn’t you prefer to ask him?” she returned, equally mild.

“Antal is sparing with his stories. I’mhungryfor details.” He drew the words over his fangs. Melodramatic asses, this entire species.

“Details? Nothing so interesting. I’m honored to serve.”

Avroz studied her longer this time. A slow narrowing of eyes.

“Ah, loyalty,” he said at last. “There’s one thing Antal got right.”

Fi kept her mouth shut. Only the twitch of a frown betrayed her.

“You don’t like when I speak poorly of him?” Avroz pressed.

Damn her uncooperative human face. “Should I not dislike when someone speaks poorly of my daeyari?”

Herdaeyari. It was a fight to keep the term neutral, not dripping with the possessive claws Fi wished to draw. Her daeyari, and this beast had caused him so much torment.

“Mortals form pacts for many reasons.” Avroz traced a claw along a cushion. “Those seeking power. Those seeking a boon. What enticed you, vavraesa?”

This answer, Fi hadn’t practiced. Skirting the truth felt safest.

“My village,” she said. Simple. No need to give him the ammunition of what Nyskya meant to her, how Antal and her people found common purpose against the system that had broken them both.

“A selfless act?” Avroz quirked a grin. “Or selfish?”

“Selfish.” That answer came easier.

He laughed. “You make quite a pair, then.”