Page 210 of Sunsplitter

He set the box in front of Qirza. Touched his highest antler tip. Antal didn’t trust his words, so he backed away silently, assuming his place at the center of the circle.

Avroz rose from his pillow. He crossed the floor on easy strides, standing beside his son to receive the council’s commendation. After all, he’d landed the killing blow. His father looked every inch a conqueror, swathed in robes of silver vesper fabric and midnight velvet. A tail flicked Antal’s ankle, urging him to stand up straight.

The rest passed in a haze—Avroz’s account of the fight,carefully altered. Qirza’s congratulations. There would be no second set of Sunsplitter bands. This ceremony was only for accolades, to pile more praise upon Antal. And Avroz wouldn’t let the opportunity go to waste.

“Speaker Qirza.” Avroz’s voice carried across the assembly, calm and commanding—another skill Antal had never mastered. “We are humbled, as always, to uphold our duty to the Daey Celva, ensuring our home is protected from the aedari.”

Antal almost laughed. To anyone else, Avroz’s glance at his son would look intent, proud. Antal saw only hardness in his father’s eyes.

“I’m equally humbled,” Avroz went on, “when a young daeyari steps forward to carry this mantle.”

Avroz laid an affectionate hand on Antal’s shoulder. The claws dug slightly too tight.

“And so,” Avroz said, “I’ve requested an additional order of business for the council. We have, currently, an empty seat to fill. At your acceptance, speaker Qirza, I wish to nominate my son, Antal, for membership upon the Daey Celva.”

The council members rustled upon their pillows, tails swaying and whispers passing between neighbors, but none protested.

Because this wasn’t a surprise to any of them. Avroz would have found time to speak with every councilor in private before now, stroking egos and calling in favors, stacking every odd in Antal’s favor. All the rest was pageantry.

A raised finger from Qirza silenced the assembly. She stared hard at Antal, gaze probing. “Antal, son of Avroz. Do you accept this nomination?”

Antal hesitated. The claws on his shoulder dug tighter.

“I do, speaker Qirza.” He forced a bow. “It would be my honor.”

“Any opposition to this nomination?” Qirza looked around the council members, all silent. She nodded. “Very well. Let usproceed to hearing arguments in favor of the candidate.”

The first part of the meeting had passed in a haze. This part was like submerging into an icy lake, the world lost to murk, a dull pressure in Antal’s ears each time someone spoke.

He fielded questions when they were pointed at him, inquiries about his desire for nomination, his leadership upon the Winter Plane, his potential contributions to the council. Leaden words on his tongue, all dutifully crafted, the answers his father had spent the last two days forcing him to recite.

Avroz handled the rest.

He wove a breathtaking tale of his son’s accolades. Avroz spoke of fruitful travel years and prior apprenticeship to the council, calling testimony from every councilor Antal had worked with. He spoke of successful territory governance, of Thomaskweld’s strong standing in the Winter Plane energy market, of dispatching Verne’s coup. He spoke of triumphing over not one, buttwoaedari, hunting their immortal foes with tireless determination—no mention of the risks Avroz had taken, of how many humans had been left charred before the aedari were slain.

Merciless Void, it was so easy to let this happen. To say nothing, while his father built Antal into a better daeyari than he’d ever be.

He’d watched a few nomination meetings in the past. He knew the interrogation could drag on for hours. Was that why his feet started to ache? Why his shoulders felt impossibly heavy?

Through the gloom, Antal was vaguely aware of Qirza staring at him. As the father spoke, she watched the son, fingers idling with the silver hem of a shawl, tail a mild twitch.

Antal could shout the truth to her. To everyone. He could lay his father’s crimes bare, right here on the council floor.

But how would Antal prove it?

But what if he tried anyway?

But what if he lost Thomaskweld? What if Avroz hurt Fionamara?

Anguish threatened to tear him at the seams. Simpler not to fight. To just let himself sink.

After an eternity, Qirza announced, “All arguments have been heard. All in favor of the nomination: Antal, son of Avroz, to join the Daey Celva?”

The gallery was quiet. On the meeting floor, clawed hands rose one by one, all around the circle of council members.

“Opposed?”

No hands.