Page 216 of Sunsplitter

Instinct told Antal to look away, to cower, to hide from his father’s admonishment.

Instead, he stood tall. Antal met his father’s gaze for the first time without flinching. For the first time, he didn’t see a monolith staring back.

Just a selfish daeyari who’d never been worth Antal’s loyalty.

“No, izaevi,” Antal said softly. “I think I’ll be more than you ever were.”

The guards dragged Avroz away. Qirza shouted above the din, but the gallery was in chaos. Daeyari flooded down the tiers, gathering at the rail to witness Avroz’s exit. Others circled a different oddity—Fionamara.

In a snap, Antal was at her side.

She didn’t need him. Ixli and Syvr came to her defense, holding the onlookers back with teeth and claws. She stood undaunted by the throng of red eyes.

“Yeah, I know,weird eye,” she said, her casual use of daeyari leaving several onlookers flustered. “Wait until you hear what I did to the aedari. Actually,twoaedari. Oh, hello,Councilor Antal. How gracious of you to join us.”

Her smirk was triumphant. The pride in her eyes could have lifted him to the stars.

Antal wrapped an arm around her waist, a claim for all to see. Her warmth sank into his bones. Her spiced scent, her fingers digging just as possessively into his shirt, drove away any thought of Avroz.

With disorder surrounding them, Antal leaned into her, a whisper in her ear.

“Say it again.”

She looked at him—and there was nothing else in the world beyond those eyes, bright and fierce and focused on him. No bickering daeyari. No shouting council on the floor below. Only the quirk of her mouth as she made an inquisitive, “Hm?”

“Again,” he pleaded, soft for only her to hear. “Properly.”

He was wrong. There was nothing else in the world beyond those eyes—and thatgrin. It bloomed across her lips, all the more breath-stealing for the flash of her teeth, the way her Void-and-crimson hair framed her face.

“Yes,” she said. “I’ll marry you.”

Antal kissed her, a promise for now, for eternity, for whatever lay ahead.

Together.

Avroz was the first council member accused of treason in a millennium.

He was the first found guilty inovera millennium.

One month after the trial, a crisp morning bloomed in Thomaskweld. The cold wind down the valley carried scents of pine and ice, ruffling the embroidered collar of Antal’s shirt. His hair—long enough to braid now—wove a simple plait between his antlers. As usual, the main avenue hummed with voices and trolley wheels, the river rumbling in the background.

But one feature of the city, mostunusualabout this morning:

“Councilor Antal,” Qirza greeted. “Thank you for inviting me.”

The title was still settling onto Antal’s shoulders. He’d been a mess of anxiety through his father’s trial, waiting for everything to crumble. Perhaps the Daey Celva would revoke Antal’s nomination. Perhaps Avroz would argue too well, would emerge victorious and poised to crush everything Antal held dear. Even when thatdidn’thappen, his father sentenced and a month passed since, Antal woke every morning with worry churning his stomach.

Less, every day. His chest, a little lighter.

In the meantime, Antal had lost his father’s support for codifying the new governing system in Thomaskweld, an end to live sacrifices. Which meant Antal had to do it on his own.

Qirza appraised his city with an auditor’s acuity. The wind bit at a lavender shawl that draped to her thighs, silver hems embroidered with star-shaped beads. Antal had dressed even more formally for the speaker’s visit, a forest green jacket from his human tailor, silver vesper fabric glinting pine branches and starlight. He was getting used to wearing daeyari attire again, if only because Fionamara tended to bite her lip whenever Antal put it on.

He bowed and touched his highest antler tip. “Shall we begin, Councilor Qirza?”

“Of course. I’m eager to observe.”

Antal spent all morning touring the speaker of the Daey Celva around Thomaskweld—every scrap of evidence to convince her this proposal was worth consideration.