Page 81 of Sunsplitter

Was that it? More gossip, just what Antal needed. He sipped his tea to mask a growl.

“I see,” Avroz said. “Unfortunate news.”

Antal honed to his father’s flat words. Avroz loathed surprises,anything he couldn’t control. Yet there was no flick on his tail. No telltale tension around his mouth.

He already knew about Tyvo.

No. More than that… the ghost of a grin hidden behind a sip of tea.

Avroz had done this. Ice crept down Antal’s spine, a cold surety that somehow, his father had pushed for Tyvo’s abdication. A word to Qirza after the public confrontation? A demand to Tyvo himself, leveraging some old favor? Had Antal been such a fool to think, just because they had a deal, Avroz would stop moving pieces against him?

Already, Verne’s territory had sat open for a year. Antal had vetoed every candidate to replace her. What would his promises mean if he improved his own territory, but let another tyrant settle next door? He needed a neighbor he could trust, one who didn’t spit on humans as lesser creatures.

Now, Tyvo’s abdication meant two territories to fill. Antal needed better standing, the chance to choose a candidate he wanted.

A spot on the Daey Celva would give him that.

A noose, tightening. Another vile reason he needed his father’s support, before Avroz departed on his Pilgrimage.

“Unfortunate, indeed.” Jazst slipped another barbed look to Antal. “And when you already have a vacancy nearby? I’ve heard it’s taken ages to choose Verne’s replacement. How will you ever agree on two?”

Jazst bared a fang. Not just gossip. What in Veshri’s mercy was he so sharp about?

“You’re… familiar with the search?” Antal asked.

“Of course. I recommended a candidate myself, a good friend. Yet she was, how did you put it…a self-absorbed narcissist, unfit to rule a bone pit, much less a territory.”

Oh.

Right.

Fionamara had helped Antal write that response. He stood by every word.

The room went, understandably, silent. Jazst glowered over his cup. Ixli, who hadn’t said a Void-damned word since they sat, spoke her displeasure with a huff.

Avroz didn’t look at his son. His exterior settled into calm, placidly swirling his tea. Antal knew that command like a slap to the cheek:Stop talking. Don’t dig the hole deeper. Step aside and let the better daeyari fix this.

Gladly, Antal buried his face in his cup.

“We appreciate your time,” Avroz said. “Perhaps we should move to the matter at hand. You reported a recent fire in your territory? An aedari scent?”

Jazst relinquished his glower on Antal, swapping to deference for Avroz. “I wish I could aid your hunt, councilor, yet I have little to offer. Only one incident. No trail that I could find. I can show you where it happened, some accounts of the local humans. That’s all.”

“If you’d be so kind. I’ll look at whatever you have.”

Jazst stood, moving to a desk across the room. Avroz followed. The flick of his tail to Antal’s arm told him to stay behind and not cause more trouble.

Antal’s entire existence seemed to cause trouble, despite his best efforts.

Ixli didn’t follow, either. She sat on her cushion like a good soldier, back rigid and tail twitching. When her coral eyes snapped to Antal, he contemplated whether death might be kinder than this specific torture, trapped on a quest with a woman he’d scorned. It would depend on how grotesque a shape he reincarnated as.

He used to love that about her. The heat of her stare. The dedication she put into her work. And yes, Antal was painfully aware that he had a type.

It was either luck or misfortune that the door opened then, Syvr slipping into the chamber, dressed in a fresh tunic. While Jazst and Avroz bent their heads to a stack of reports on the desk, Syvr padded to the seating area, claiming the cushion between Antal and Ixli.

“What did I miss?” they whispered.

“Antal is demonstrating his fine ability to make friends,” Ixli returned with barbed hush.