Page 13 of Sunsplitter

“How is Nyskya?” Fionamara asked as Antal rinsed soap from her hair.

She’d be too proud to acknowledge the hitch in her voice. Homesick. Antal couldn’t fault her for that, either. Too much to do in Thomaskweld.

“Mayor Yvette has everything running smoothly,” he said. “Plenty of raw materials for the smithy. And many new residents. Same as elsewhere.”

If only his monthly check-in to Nyskya had been the day’s sole task. His tail draped the edge of the tub, a twitch of unease at the tip.

Fionamara’s eyes narrowed like a panther scenting blood.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Is it Nyskya?”

“Nyskya is fine, Fionamara. But…” His sigh made her eyes slit fiercer.

“Antal.What?”

He had every intention of telling her. It was fear that made him hesitate, some naïve wish that he could will the news away, hurl its consequences into the Void.

“I received a letter this morning. From my father.”

Just speaking the words made his stomach knot. He’d visited Thomaskweld briefly, had known the envelope the instant it was handed to him. That slant of dark blue letters forming his name. The dahlia pressed into the wax seal. Antal had delivered many similar messages.

Back when he’d been a good, obedient son.

Fionamara sat up, wet hair sticking to her neck. Her scowl could crack granite. “Your dad? What does that crusty Void lichen want? Other than sending petty ‘congratulations’ on getting your territory back, when he’s been zero help.”

“He… wishes me to visit home.”

She laughed. “Does he? Fuck that.”

Antal hummed. His claws tightened on the tub.

“In fact, fuckhim,”she continued. “He’ll be sorely disappointed, I’m sure.”

Antal said nothing.

Fionamara snapped him a daggered look. “Antal. He’ll be sorely disappointed.Right?”

Disappointment wasn’t something his father humored graciously.

“He isn’t used to being refused,” Antal said.

“And so, I say again—fuck him.”

Antal bared a fang, a muttered, “It’s not that simple…”

She flashed her teeth right back. “Of course it is. That bastard doesn’t deserve anything from you. Ignore him. That’s what you’ve done for fifty years, isn’t it?”

He knew what she was doing. Fionamara faced every challenge with hackles raised, unflinching—as if bravado alone could conquer a beast as ruthless as his father. As if Antal hadn’t already wasted most of his life on that futile fight.

As if the struggle hadn’t nearly destroyed him, watchinghis father carve open the throat of a man he’d loved, just to make a point.

Like all daeyari, Antal carried the milestones of his life carved into his antlers. At the base, those wretched dahlias, symbol of his family. Next, the sigils of the Planes he’d visited during his travel years. Then energy conduits, for the academy where he’d studied. A constellation of stars, for his apprenticeship at the Daey Celva. Trees and aurora, for his current role as a territory ruler.

But before that most recent addition, a section left blank. Fifty years of mourning for the first human Antal had loved, a kind man who’d tended aurorabeasts for Antal’s family. He should have been safe, serving a daeyari house. Instead, Antal’s father had ripped him apart.

He’d not seen his father in fifty years.

Not since he’d been sent to this appointment on the Winter Plane. Not even when Verne had displaced him. Not even when he might have fallen dead in the snow. It wasn’t until after Antal had reclaimed his territory that the first letter from his father had arrived a year ago.