Page 17 of Sunsplitter

“I don’t need someone to worry about me,” Fi said.

“You deserve someone to worry about you. It’s what he’d want.”

“Antal worries about me.”

Kashvi huffed. Her exterior was hard as granite, uncannily familiar.

But Fi caught the rasp in Kashvi’s breath. The flex of stiff fingers. Kashvi avoided talking about her silver sickness, magical corrosion in her muscles, her body mistakenly rejecting its own energy. With how hard she worked, the pain must be constant, even if she fought not to show it.

Fi wondered, sometimes, if Kashvi also worried that their world had gotten too big, too fast. Life had been simpler back in Nyskya, just long nights and snow-crusted windows.

“It’s not my business,” Kashvi said. “You want to go? Fine. You’re into the antlers or the claws or some shit,fine. To each their own. But don’t forget, they’re predators. Don’t go to the Twilit Plane expecting some friendly bonding with your new father-in-law.”

Now, it was Fi’s turn to blink.

She stared at Kashvi, struggling to process… father-in-law? Fi hadn’t said…

It wasn’t like…

Was itweirdto consider marrying an antlered immortal? Not that Fi had ever…

Ok, it was possible that the thought had crossed her mind recently. Mostly because she liked big parties. And it seemed like a fine chance to see Antal smile. She’d never imagined his family in that picture. Fi had never imagined meeting his family at all.

Just one visit. Then she and Antal could return home, hopefully enjoy another fifty years of his father’s neglect.

“I can spend today checking on whatever metal shipments you have ready,” Fi offered. Then, recalling another promise, “When I was in Calvariz, there was a house that burned down. Could we send some resources to the family?”

“A fire?” Kashvi’s tone was dismissive in a tired way, not an uncaring one. “We have more important business than a single fire.”

Fi supposed she was right.

Especially if she had a trip to the Twilit Plane to prepare for.

That night, Fi and Antal returned to his home in the cliffs above Thomaskweld.

The open wall of the sitting room offered a view of the entire valley, mountain slopes painted in snow and dark shiverpines. The city was gold dust along the river. A green aurora hummed overhead. Cold wind buffeted the rock face, but inside, the space was warm and quiet.

Cozier than when Fi had first visited. Her extended time here had necessitated several additions to the spartan living arrangements, the first being a bathroom, and mercy to her for surviving Antal’s explanation of why hedidn’tneed one. She could have lived without the lecture on how daeyari energy incinerated food in place of digestion.

They also had a kitchen now, counter and cabinets carved out of rock at the back of the sitting room. Whenever Fi cooked, Antal lingered in her periphery, squinting at every utensil and ingredient. And though his one attempt at making pancakes had nearly smoked them out of the cliff, just the fact that he’d tried had been… nice.

Fi hadn’t felt like cooking tonight. She sprawled across the cushions of the sitting area, comfy in an oversized sweater and thick socks, enjoying soup she’d brought from the city. Thick dumplings and spicy broth were perfect for cold weather. Antal sat beside her, cross-legged with his tail wrapped around him.

He watched his city, crimson eyes glowing with dull energy.

Two weeks since he’d last eaten. Longer than he ought to go. Their new donation system would pay off in time, but for now, Fi visited the Thomaskweld hospital whenever Antal got desperate, entreating grieving families to let their loss serve a greater purpose. The body had to be fresh, only an hour or two after death, before the energy deteriorated. Cremation was the standard funerary rite: energy returned to the Void, body returned to the Plane. The few cuts of meat Antal needed to survive would make no difference, and the city would pay for the pyre.

A harrowing conversation all the same.

But that wasn’t the reason for Antal’s gloom tonight. He’d fixed the energy conduits, had seen to every one of Kashvi’s tasks with hardly a word. Fi hated seeing him like this. There was so much more to Antal when he smiled. When he laughed. When he held her like the span of his arms was the only thing that mattered.

She looked at the city, too.

In a garden near the river, there was a memorial, a stone plaque amidst red mountain poppies. Even that was more thanwhat Boden would have wanted. He’d have told them not to waste the effort. To focus on rebuilding.

For most of Fi’s life, she never could have pictured standing with a daeyari on her wedding day. Shehadpictured her brother there—making fun of her dress, weaving flowers into her hair, walking her to the ceremony in place of their dead father and absent mother. The future looked strange, without that anchor.

Boden had told Fi to forgive herself. He’d taught her how to fight for things larger than a single person. She supposed larger things meant harder concessions.