Page 166 of Sunsplitter

Fi bristled, perceiving first an insult.

Then Syvr’s earnestness sank into her.

They’d brought her here to a place of memory. They called Antal family. They spoke of protecting him. Fi bristled anew.

Because this was what Avroz should have asked her. Not some insult of Antal’s taste. Not indifference at whether Fi loved him or was using him. Syvr was asking if Antal meant asmuch to her as she meant to him, everything his father should have cared about.

Fi considered giving the long answer. The mushy answer. She could have told Syvr how she’d been taken to a daeyari shrine twice in her life, both times certain she’d die, eaten by an immortal beast. She could have tried to explain how long that fear had lived inside her. She could have told them how Antal had terrified her at first. Then how his shell began to crack. Then how he’d helped her see that vulnerability could be braver than her fiercest bristle.

But none of that answered the question, did it?

“I would cut the antlers off a hundred daeyari for him,” Fi said. “I would walk through the Void. I would stand with him through any fight, any obstacle… except the ones I can’t.”

These words weren’t shouts. No hard edges. Syvr weighed the confession.

“You both have that in common, too. So determined to look strong, even when everything’s gnawing away at you.”

“Bad habits,” she conceded. “But I promise, I’ll be there for him as best as I can. For as long as I…”

Fi balked before saying it, letting the words die on her lips.

It didn’t matter. Understanding crossed Syvr’s face.

“You humans,” they said. “You bind yourselves with lovers for a lifetime. For daeyari, such things are rare. Who can say what a century will bring? Or five? Daeyari speak their vows to express commitment, but if they grow apart, they go their separate ways, no harm done.” Syvr shrugged, not dismissive, almost sympathetic. “Your separation may be harder. It may come before you’re ready. But that’s the choice, isn’t it? Whether a few decades of happiness are worth the grief at the end, better than never having that happiness at all? Knowing Antal, itdoesn’t surprise me that he’s the type of daeyari who’d make that choice.”

The words weren’t a cure. They didn’t heal that hollow spot rooted within Fi’s ribs. But Syvr’s reassurance lessened the ache. She wrapped her arms over her chest, a moment to breathe.

“I’ll do my best,” Fi said. “To make him happy.”

Syvr smiled, and it felt different from those flitting faces they usually donned, warmer. “I can see that already.”

Their demeanor shifted like a tide, subtle in how their grin curved from solemn back to mischievous, a glint in their eye as they held out a hand.

“Come with me,” Syvr said.

Fi blinked at the gesture.

She squinted at Syvr.

Their audacity, she had to commend, as a fellow audacity aficionado herself.

“Sorry,” she said. “My dad always told me never to go anywhere with strangers. Especially strangers with fangs and carnivorous diets. Like, he didn’t say thatspecifically, but I feel like it’s a pretty easy extension of logic.”

Syvr laughed. “I’m not a stranger. After all we’ve been through together?”

“The fangs and carnivorous diet part, then.”

“Fair.”

This spot in the garden was quiet, calm, a wonderful place to think. Fi could have lingered longer—if not for Syvr still holding out their hand.

“Enough dour moods,” they said. “We’ve better things to do. Trust me.”

Fi had granted a thimble of trust, and this daeyari wanted to sprint away with it.

“Where?” she asked.

Syvr’s grin widened. “That would ruin the surprise.”