Page 82 of Sunsplitter

“I told you everyone hates me,” Antal added.

Syvr tutted and poured a cup of tea. “Those are two unhelpfully disparate accounts.”

“Apparently, Antal refused a friend of Jazst’s for territory lord,” Ixli said.

“Ah.” Syvr set down the kettle. “That one with all the sigils on her antlers? Nasty piece of work. I wouldn’t have chosen her, either.” They tutted again. “Ixli, stop sitting like you have a rod up your ass. It’s bad for your back.”

Ixli’s tail swatted Syvr’s arm.

“We ought to be hunting,” she whispered. “Not sipping tea.”

“Are you so eager?” Antal hissed back. “I’m surprised you have no gold on your antlers yet. Surely, you could have triumphed over a dozen aedari by now.”

For any daeyari, killing an aedari was an honor. For a warrior like Ixli, it was acalling. A war fought not in grand battles but in endless skirmishes, keeping their immortal enemies to their half of the Planeverse. Avroz had been younger than Ixli when he’d earned his bands.

Ixli’s rigid posture told Antal he’d struck the nerve he aimed for. A petty part of him relished the hit.

“Avroz hasn’tlether hunt an aedari,” Syvr said.

Antal frowned. No, that couldn’t be right. Ixli was disciplined. Capable. Over a century ago, she’d been at the top of her academy. She must be lethal now, must have every territory lord near the Contested Planes begging Avroz to lend her spear.

Ixli glared at the floor. Tail flicking.

That wasn’t right, either. Antal was angry at her. He didn’t want this cold, constricting feeling in his chest.

A familiar feeling.

Those downcast eyes, the same he’d worn whenever Avroz had tried to control him. Through subtle words, through unspoken action, his father had woven a leash. Antal had assumed the collar for him alone, the burden of a son serving an esteemed daeyari house.

But there was no denying it. That same uncooperative part of him that recognized Ixli had cut her hair, also recognized that she was tenser than when they’d parted fifty years ago. Restless. Like a beast in a cage.

Beasts never did well in cages, liable to snap at any hand that reached for them.

“So. That human woman,” Syvr said. “What’s that about?”

Antal choked on his own tongue. Ixli scoffed, back to barbs.

“Is that the same one you brought home with you?” Syvr went on.

Ixli scoffed sharper.

“Stop it, Ixli,” Syvr said. “Antal deserves to get laid. You can’t be that ruthless.”

“He can keep his bed however he wishes.” Ixli sneered. “But a vavraesa as a plaything? I assumed territory lords had better uses of their time.”

Antal clamped his teeth. That was what they thought? Just aplaything. Just a time-wasting fuck. They couldn’t conceive of anything deeper for a human?

“Playthingsdon’t get brought on aedari hunts,” Syvr chided. They tapped the spot where Fionamara had stabbed them. “The woman can fight.”

Ixli huffed. “A lucky strike. You left yourself wide open.”

They didn’t know about Razik, either. Not the truth. Avroz had spun it to suit him: a meaningless affair, a rebellious young daeyari. Antal clutched his claws against the memory of blood on tile. Of Fionamara with her lip split, stumbling out of Avroz’s grasp.

“Come on, Antal.” Syvr leaned close. “I see how you look at her.”

“And how is that?” Antal muttered.

“Bright-eyed. Sharp.” Syvr’s grin widened. “Mildly terrified.”