Page 212 of Sunsplitter

“Time?” he asked. Too low. Too small.

“Of course. We’ll need time to gather support, not to mention evidence on whether your new system is effective. We may present it to the council once we have a strong enough case.”

“But what do I do until then—”

“Incremental measures. Perhaps you’ll need to take a few living sacrifices in the interim, as a show of good faith.” Avroz shrugged. “Compromise is important to diplomacy.”

A dozen words snagged on Antal’s tongue. A hundred. They’d made a deal. Antal had played his abominable role perfectly.

“What about your Pilgrimage?” Antal pressed.

Avroz was stone. He listened to the council members delivering their final business, begrudging his son only half his attention. “It’s still early for my Pilgrimage, Antal. What’s another century? It would be irresponsible of me to nominate you to the council, then leave you on your own. I’ll remain here, for as long as it takes you to settle.”

Another…century? No, no, Avroz hadpromised…

Antal was drowning again.

He slipped down, down into the abyss, the surface fast receding.

As he sank, he thought: only a fool would be surprised by this. Maybe Antal was a fool, hoping this would end so easily. Maybe this world had always been too big for him, these scheming politics and deadly immortals, ageless councils and loaded deals.

But this wasn’t a matter of compromise. This wasn’t a matter of him being good enough. Antal’s tail lashed his pillow, the noose tightening on his neck as he finally realized:

Nothing would ever be good enough.

Avroz would always find fault. He’d manipulate anyone to his benefit.

And he’d never allow Antal to exist out of his control. Even now, the seat Antal had gained and the deal they’d brokered, just one more notch to keep the collar tight. How could Antal evercompromiseon the lives of innocent people? How could he accomplish anything that would make this council seat worthwhile, with his father throttling every move?

Fionamara had tried to warn him.

Antal looked to the gallery railing. She stood like a vengeful spirit, eyes boring through Avroz’s skull. When she caught Antal’s gaze, she didn’t soften. Only a shift, resolve settling in her shoulders.

She reached into her pocket and retrieved a metal box, setting it atop the rail. Eyes locked with Antal, she tapped the object. Then, a pantomimed finger above her head, curved like…

An antler tip. Antal’s stomach plummeted.

She’d retrieved the antler? She’d brought ithere?

Antal wasn’t sure whether to be impressed, or… no, definitely terrified. If she called out Avroz now, with the full council at his back, she’d be swarmed. Even the antler wouldn’t be proof enough on its own.

Yet she made no further move. Fionamara stood at the rail, watching Antal.

Waiting—forhimto decide what to do.

She’d come all this way. She’d risked her life, a mortal in a den of predators, just to be ready. Just to watch Antal, once again, fail to find the courage to confront his father.

She didn’t force his hand. He saw the conflict on her face, the fierce crease of her brow drawn against everything they could lose—and everything they’d fought for to get here.

She mouthed a single word:Together?

Coals burned through Antal’s stomach. Fear? Or anticipation? Every time he’d faced his father, he’d lost.

But this time, he wasn’t alone.This time, Antal couldn’t hide behind his fear, when all the lives in Thomaskweld were on the line. He couldn’t leave their fates to Avroz’s mercy. He couldn’t keep drowning, when he was sitting on the Daey Celva, an obligation to wield this power against every entrenched tradition that allowed daeyari like his father to have whatever they wanted without consequence.

This time, he had to fight.

Antal raised his hand.