Page 213 of Sunsplitter

With great effort, he fought to keep his arm from shaking. Doubly so, when Avroz’s glare sliced into him.

“Put that down,” his father hissed, moving to grab Antal’s wrist. “This is no time for foolish displays—”

Antal swatted the hand away, a low growl of warning.

The chamber went silent.

Energy hummed in Antal’s ears. He felt the weight of the council’s attention slide onto him, old daeyari eyes in every shade of red and black, dozens of centuries levelling disapproval at the outburst. Avroz firmed his mouth in warning, distaste seeping off him with a scent of hoarfrost and ozone. Antal fought every instinct begging him to back down.

“Antal,” Qirza said, “you request to speak?”

Antal forced himself to stand.

He’d never seen Avroz so livid. He wondered if his father might tackle him to the floor, hold him down with his claws and demand he act like aproper daeyari. Antal had just been nominated. He was meant to sit and look grateful, not stir waves before his first meeting ended.

He forced himself to walk. Unsteady steps, crossing the council floor.

Avroz didn’t intervene. Even now, he must have thought himself in control. He must have seen Antal as nothing but a stubborn child, a naïve new council member determined to propose his new government system. Or perhaps, to plead for his human lover. Nothing that could harm his father beyond embarrassment.

Fear burned through Antal. He knew, in his ether, this would end in failure. He had to try anyway. He paused at the center of the circle.

“Speaker Qirza.” He bowed his head to mask the quake in his voice.

The speaker of the Daey Celva regarded him with keen eyes. A flick of claws urged him to continue. Antal swallowed the blades in his throat.

“I wish to accuse my father of treason.”

The silence in the amphitheater was sharp enough to carve bone. The gallery, quiet. Every member of the Daey Celva, alert on their pillows in various shades of shock and intrigue. Antal shook with the weight of so many immortal eyes upon him.

Then, a shift. He pulled in a shallow breath as the assembly’s focus slipped off him.

Onto Avroz.

For one fleeting instant, Antal saw it: that look of rare, unguarded shock upon his father’s face. The mask snapped back in an instant, back to calm surety, Avroz’s best defense.

Avroz sighed, words dripping disappointment. “Speaker Qirza, my sincerest apologies. It would seem my son has become confused—”

Qirza’s hand shot up to silence him. She met Avroz with the type of hard, commanding look that few daeyari dared in his presence.

For Antal, her glare was no less pointed. “Explain.”

Calm words. Precise words. That was the only way to beat Avroz at this game.

“Avroz led the aedari here,” Antal said. “He found themnear the Contested Planes. He let them track him back to the Season-Locked Planes, so he could volunteer to hunt them.”

Murmurs swelled in the gallery: intrigue, outrage, doubt. The tide spilled onto the main floor, council members shifting tails on their pillows.

Avroz stood.

“Antal,” he ordered. “Sit down. This is embarrassing—”

“Silence.”

Qirza stood as well. Her presence rippled silence across the gallery, order commanded by one fist clenched above her antlers. Her shawls glittered like starlight as she scanned the amphitheater, eyes raking every tier until the last whispers ceased.

Again, her glare fell on Antal. “This is a serious accusation. Do you bring proof?”

Avroz scoffed. Even now, he thought himself untouchable. Even now, he thought his son no more than a nuisance, powerless even upon the council Avroz had placed him on.