Page 168 of Sunsplitter

We’ll give Fi her bands. Meet at my home after the ceremony. Don’t let Avroz know.

Antal would hear about this later. He suppressed that familiar squirm in his stomach, the thought of Avroz’s scowl, the inevitable lecture on shirking responsibility. Let him scowl. Antal had played his part today. He deserved a little rebellion.

They emerged in a valley. Low grasses brushed their heels, interspersed with periwinkle flowers. Potholes broke the hillocky terrain, none more than an arm span across, filled with deep, clear water and darting fishes. A cliff stood ahead, soft purple in the twilight.

Of course Syvr would bring them here. Every daeyari knew this place.

“Is that…?” Fionamara tipped her head back.

A statue had been carved into the stone, tall as the cliff, gazing out upon the meadows. The daeyari’s robes draped in countless layers, the swirling folds collecting shadows. His face was hard, angular. His antlers curved to ten sharp points, the most a daeyari ever attained. He held one hand extended, beckoning.

“Veshri,” Antal confirmed. “This is said to be the first place he returned to the Twilit Plane, after weaving his immortal body.”

“Each new Sunsplitter must be witnessed by an old one,” Syvr said. “Veshri ought to count, right? Are you ready to have your bands, human?”

“Mybands?” Fionamara said.

Antal devoured the spark in her eyes, the way her fingers tightened against his.

Subtler, her attention lingered on the statue of Veshri. Supposedly, they’d met once. Fionamara, lost in the Void, had recounted meeting an old daeyari with carnelian eyes, who’d taught her to Voidwalk back to the Plane. The stranger’s identity had always been conjecture.

Now, Fionamara looked upon the carved face of the first immortal, a frown tugging her mouth—recognitionin her eyes. A chill raked Antal’s spine. Millenia-old daeyari embarked on their Pilgrimage for the slim chance of meeting Veshri, yet this mystifying human had found him on accident.

Antal said nothing to the others. Not his secret to tell.

Ixli joined them at a delay, clutching a metal box, much smaller than an aedari head. Fionamara squinted at the mystery. Then they walked together, soft grass folding beneath their feet, until they reached a stone platform at the base of the statue.

Daeyari had no gods to pray to. Even Veshri wasn’t divine, simply vaster in knowledge than his younger brethren. Hisstatues stood across the daeyari-controlled territories, a spot for visitors to meditate on their place in the Shattered Planes. Others paid homage before their Pilgrimage. This shrine, though notable, was still remote. They shouldn’t be bothered here.

The group sat, Fionamara at their middle, three daeyari encircling her.

Syvr tossed a small vial. Antal caught it, golden aedari blood glowing through the glass.

“How’d you get that out from under Avroz’s nose?” Ixli said, equally horrified and impressed. “He’ll be a terror when he finds it missing.”

“Ixli. Darling.” Syvr spread their arms. “This is exactly the skill set Avroz employs me for. He can’t get angry at me for practicing.”

“This is all very kind of you,” Fionamara observed. “Heartwarming, really. But I feel compelled to point out one tiny, critical detail that seems to have escaped the consideration of this subterfuge.” She pointed to her head. “I don’t haveantlers.”

Syvr huffed a laugh. “Antal, always choosing the clever ones.”

Ixli swatted them with her tail.

“No antlers,” Antal agreed. “But…”

He lifted her wrist. Fionamara complied, inquisitive as he rolled back her sleeve to reveal the floral tattoos blooming up her arm.

“Just a different type of ink,” Antal said. “We can choose a spot that suits you. It’s the mark that counts, not the antlers.”

Plenty of daeyari would argue that point. Most weren’t Sunsplitters.

“Not the arm,” Ixli said. “Not as visible as an antler.”

“Where, then?” Antal asked.

Fionamara sat still, an imperious tilt to her chin as three daeyari inspected her face.

“Plenty of room on her cheek,” Syvr proposed.