Page 18 of Sunsplitter

And shewascurious what the Twilit Plane looked like. Ten years as a smuggler, yet she’d never met a human who’d seen the daeyari’s home.

“What does your father want?” Fi asked in daeyari.

Antal had been an absolute ass when he’d started teaching her, refusing to speak in anything but daeyari for several weeks, until her irate pantomiming finally resulted in a workable vocabulary. Now, the words came easier.

And he seemed to like it when she spoke daeyari.

Antal cast her a slow look. “The letter didn’t say.”

“But can you guess?”

His tail flicked. “Killing Verne rather than finding compromise may have caused a stir. Perhaps my father wishes to chastise me. Or perhaps it’s the matter of approving a new daeyari neighbor, he may have someone he wishes to put in place.” Antal’s tone dropped. “Or perhaps it’s as we feared. The Daey Celva has become aware of my unconventional new policies.”

Daey Celva—the Dusk Council. According to them, the daeyari who ruled human territories were supposed to demand living sacrifices, in exchange for protection and technology. They were supposed to rule over their subjects, not walk alongsidethem. They were supposed to keep mortals afraid. Food was easier to manipulate when they were afraid.

“Whatever it is,” Fi said, “we go. Get it over with, so Papa Antlers has no reason to come here. Hopefully, it’s one of those petty options, and he’ll be none the wiser.”

Antal’s brow rose. “We?”

“You think I’d let you do this alone? Don’t be dumb, Antlers.”

Fi was moderately disappointed that the daeyari word for “antlers,” vavrae, didn’t sound like Antal’s name. What a marvelous irony that the two were so similar in seasonspeak.

Antal let out a long exhale.

She was reasonably sure he didn’thaveto breathe. The first immortal, Veshri, had died then woven a new body out of Void ether, a shell to hold his energy, rebuilding what he remembered of his mortal form in appearance more than function. Ether flesh didn’t age, could regenerate even grievous wounds. Only decapitation killed a daeyari, their vestigial heart and lungs unnecessary—except for dramatic sighs to tug her heartstrings.

Fi braced for his rebuttal, already assembling her counter arguments.

“We should go soon,” he agreed.

Fi squinted. “You… want me to come? That easy?”

“I don’twantyou anywhere near my father, but territory lords often travel with a mortal servant. Not thatyouare,” he added quickly, astute enough to notice Fi stiffen. “But it’s customary. Someone who could carry word back to my territory, if needed. Having you at my side may make me look like a more… proper Lord Daeyari. Enough to fit my father’s expectations.”

“But it’s a gamble?” Fi asked.

“It’s a gamble,” he murmured.

Fi’s first thought was: how objectively hilarious that her presence would make him seem moreproper. Tell that to everytrade warden who’d spoken down to her over the years.

Her second thought: “Good thing I’m a better gambler than you. When do we leave?”

Antal’s smile filled her with warmth that could crack permafrost. He pulled her against him, a silent “thank you” in the nuzzle of his nose to her cheek. Worry in the sway of his tail.

“It’ll be fine,” Fi said. “More role-playing? I can be your human servant for a couple days. All you have to do is refrain from grabbing my ass or calling me pet names. Easy.”

Antal’s nose wrinkled. “Pet names?”

“Yes, Antal. Pet names. Signs of affection. Like how I call you Antlers. But oh, that’s right, you don’t have a pet name for me yet! Because you’re boring.”

His tail shifted to a wider swish. Less dismal. Good.

“I call you by your full name, Fionamara. That isn’t sufficient?”

“That’s not a pet name. You’re supposed to have a name only you call me.”

“I thought you didn’t wish to be my… pet?”