Page 103 of Sunsplitter

He’d been suspiciously tolerant of her—when Antal was here. When Avroz needed his son to fall in line.

Antal was too soft, too easily swayed with his heart exposed. Fi was still angry at him. Of course she wasfuriousthat he’d left her behind, that he’d bowed to his father’s will time and again. Not a single rigid vertebra in that Void-woven spine.

But Fi had been the same with her father.

She’d hated the man. She’d needed him. She’d wanted nothing more than to earn the love he ought to have given her freely, would have sacrificed anything for a functioning family. The same impossible position Antal was in now.

He’d asked her, once, if Fi had ever forgiven her father.

She’d never considered it. She’d always assumed she was the one who’d broken things, she was the one who couldn’t live up to the perfect daughter her father wanted. Had Fi been so short-sighted, to not see Antal suffering the same? He hated Avroz. He ached for forgiveness. He wanted a family that didn’t shred him to pieces.

Except this bastard daeyari didn’t deserve forgiveness.

And there, at last, Fi saw the full shape of what Avroz was doing.

“You didn’t kill me when you had the chance.” Fury simmered in her chest, but she kept her voice low, not alerting Syvr insidethe house. “Not out of mercy. Because killing me would drive Antal away again. It would make him lessusefulto you.”

All this time, she’d only been a carrot. A fake olive branch.

Avroz’s narrowed gaze confirmed as much. Maybe she’d been dissecting him from the wrong angle. She’d assumed he’d murdered Razik out of maliciousness, that cruel daeyari superiority—but why, if Avroz wanted Antal on the Dusk Council so badly? Wouldn’t he have known he’d be pushing Antal away?

“Because even you fuck up sometimes, don’t you?” Fi said. “You made a mistake when you killed Razik. You thought you had Antal so firmly under your claws, that getting rid of his human would bring him back in line. But it did the opposite. It drove him away for acentury, and you’re still making up for lost ground.”

Avroz’s tail was unnervingly still. His tone, level enough to slice a jugular. “Careful, vavraesa. Speculation is a dangerous game.”

“I won’t let you hurt him,” Fi said. A threat.

“Hurt him? He’s my son. Why would I ever—”

“Listen to me, you twig-headed dusk fungus.” Nowsheleveled a finger.Shebared her teeth. “Iwon’tlet you hurt him. I know your type. You’re too used to being in control. You take gambles you shouldn’t, because you’re so sure your power will always protect you. That overconfidence is going to take you down. It always does.”

That was the step too far.

Fi saw the subtle shift in Avroz’s posture. A human? He could tolerate. An inconvenience? He could endure.

A pawn not moving the way he wanted? Unacceptable.

The flick of his tail was wide and sharp. Familiar.

“You think you get to decide?” he said.

Fi didn’t regret her words. Shedidfeel that prey instinct inher gut, when Avroz stepped toward her. With heart quickening, she glanced at the ground. The dirt. The color of the gravel.

“You think you have any choice in this game?” Avroz said. Another step closer.

Fi forced every stone into memory. The smell of the wheat. The heat of the sun.

“You’re a pet,” he spat. “Pretending you have fangs.”

“My fangs are plenty sharp.” Energy pooled hot at Fi’s fingertips.

“Are they?” One final tail flick.

Avroz lunged.

Fi threw herself backward, through a rip in reality, into the black of the Void.

The silence was instant. Fi floated, body slowing to near stasis, cold pressing her bones. She had no time to contemplate the abyss, no time to worry if this was her own reckless gamble.