Page 163 of Sunsplitter

Antal let the cheers from the gallery roar through him. That weight, a little less crushing.

Few daeyari came because of the ceremony. They came for the afterparty.

Once the meeting adjourned, daeyari spilled onto the main balcony. Thousands of centuries gathered beneath the twilight, laughing and plotting and toasting silver-swirled wine. The council members sipped smaller glasses of gold, a gift from the new Sunsplitters.

Avroz found Antal swiftly in the crowd. His father greeted him with a nose tapped to his cheek, an affectionate arm draped over his shoulders. And it was almost nice. When Antal shoved every past wound into a deep and unreachable place, he could believe this was nice, his father finally proud at his side.

Avroz kept his arm on Antal’s shoulders, steering them into a conversation with his fellow councilor, Rel, then a couple territory lords from the Autumn Plane. Antal played his part, greeting the daeyari with head high, accepting their congratulations. His father cycled them through several groups, though Antal spotted the target he was working toward.

“Speaker Qirza.” Avroz paired the greeting with a tap to his highest antler.

Antal mirrored the gesture.

Qirza raised her golden glass to them, only a modest sip drained, eyes still sharp. “Congratulations, Antal. Your first aedari kill is a momentous accomplishment. I’m pleased you’ve joined us to celebrate.”

“Of course, councilor,” Antal returned dutifully. “You did request that the next time I had a head in a box for you, I bring it myself.”

Qirza gifted a low chuckle. “So I did.”

Avroz flashed Antal an approving grin.

“I’m grateful to come before you with better news this time,” Antal furthered. “I apologize again, councilor, for my absence after Verne’s defeat.”

The flick of Avroz’s tail against Antal’s ankle was less pleased. A warning. This was the time to preen, to smile, not bring up past indiscretions. But Antal would rather Qirza know he was genuine. She wasn’t as rigid as most old daeyari, not from any of the Old Houses that had sat on the council since its founding. The first speaker in history who wasn’t.

Avroz had always hated that about her.

His father smiled to Qirza’s face—saved his most vicious insults for behind her back. In public, Avroz called her a “non-traditionalist,” the most politely scathing way to say she didn’t uphold every custom the Old Houses passed down.

Antal, a fellow non-traditionalist, recognized the tight smile Qirza wore for Avroz, more than he used to.

“I’m pleased to see a young daeyari willing to own his mistakes,” Qirza told Antal. “It’s good to have you back after such a long absence. Territory governance seems to have taken all your attention. You must find value in your post?”

“I’ve learned a great deal,” Antal agreed. “Perhaps some I could share with others.”

“Ah. New ideas are always refreshing in these halls.”

“It’s been hard to have him gone so long,” Avroz interrupted. “But all good work takes time. I’m sure Antal has many more great things to share with us, in the days ahead.” He wound their tails affectionately at the tips, and Antal was a good son, forcing himself not to flinch.

He got the message. Now wasn’t the time to speak of Thomaskweld, to push his luck too soon. Antal quieted, obedient, letting Avroz steer the conversation as he always did.

Though, Qirza flicked him a glance a little too long. Too shrewd.

The celebrations were far from over. After Qirza excused herself, Avroz paraded Antal to the next dignitary. And the next. A tour through every sitting member of the Daey Celva.

Avroz planned to nominate Antalvery soon, then. Already building support. Most of the council members greeted Antal with knowing smirks, no doubt aware of his father’s intentions.

Merciless Void, Antal didn’t want to be here. This pageantry was torture.

A couple groups over, he spotted Ixli looking equally pained. She wore her new bands with a proud tilt to her chin. Her tail twitched at the attention.

Antal waited until his father was engrossed in conversation before slipping away, one skill his younger self had honed. In his pocket, he carried the note from Syvr.

“Ready?” Antal whispered at Ixli’s side.

Her shoulders sagged in relief.

They wove through the crowd, out to a shadowed fringe. Antal looked back, making sure Avroz hadn’t noticed their escape.