Page 39 of Sunsplitter

Geslam handed over a slip of paper. Avroz read it with insulting focus, as if he hadn’t just been threatening Fi’s life. As if his claws weren’t specked in her blood.

Fi reached a trembling hand to her sword hilt. She wasn’t free yet. Avroz stood between her and the door. At the threshold, Geslam slipped her a subtle glance, the crease of his brow almost worried. Maybe she’d misjudged him. His timing was impeccable.

Burgundy irises snapped onto Fi. She met Avroz’s glare, handon her sword. Ready to run. Ready to put a blade through this bastard’s throat.

He cocked his head to the drift of voices from the patio. Yme and Antal, returning from the garden. Avroz folded the paper and ran his claws along the edge, a long and focused silence, staring at Fi with some calculation she couldn’t begin to parse.

Especially when he stepped aside, a chilling calm as he gestured out the door.

“Your daeyari has returned,” he said. “You should go to him.”

He couldn’t see her.

Yme had turned them down a side path for only a moment, a corner of her garden planted with blue and silver lilies. When they returned to the main walkway, Antal had looked to the patio. Fionamara was gone, an empty stone bench where she’d been sitting.

She wouldn’t have vanished on her own. Something was wrong.

“Are you finished already?” Yme pouted. “We haven’t even seen the back beds.”

“Perhaps later, azaevi.”

Antal strode ahead, back to the house with dread burning his chest. He’d left her alone. Only a few minutes. What could have happened in a few minutes?

Antal’s feet flew up the steps to the patio, into the sitting room.

His Void-woven body had no need for a heart. He felt the jolt in his chest all the same when Fionamara stumbled out of his father’s study. Antal smelled the blood before he saw it. Scarlet dripped down her temple, tangled in the roots of her hair. Bright on her lips.

Avroz emerged behind her on calm strides, his scent of hoarfrost and old stone like a strike to Antal’s marrow.

“Should I have been clearer in my guidance, Antal? I sent you to the Winter Plane to learn how to govern mortals. Not to drag more of them into your bed.”

The world around Antal stilled. Only two thoughts that mattered.

Fionamara was bleeding.

And Avroz knew.

Antal moved without hesitation, stepping in front of Fionamara, a snarling barrier between his heart and his father’s teeth. He wrapped an arm around her waist to draw her close. This time, he’d not stand frozen. This time, no one would touch her.

But Avroz had already touched her. That blood, sharp in his nose. Not as overwhelming as Razik’s had been, his throat spilled out on this floor, but Antal clenched his teeth all the same. Beside him, Fionamara shook almost imperceptibly. What in the merciless Void could make this woman tremble?

“Antal,” she hissed. “What are you doing?”

Too late. Their game was over—if they’d ever stood a chance.

And what a spectacle: Antal, fangs bared in this place he once called home, holding another human to his side. Yme, circling on wary steps, looking from her son to her partner.

Avroz. Cold as ever. His frown twisted not with spite, but disappointment.

History repeated itself in bone-numbing detail. Antal wanted this time to be different. He wanted to think he’d rip Avroz to pieces if his father dared step closer. But in truth, Antal didn’t know what he’d do if this came to blows. The last time he’d lunged for Avroz, theonetime, he’d ended up on the floor with claws at his throat.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to speak on this later,” Avroz said.

A shallow breath shook Antal’s chest—half rage, half disbelief. “Later?”

“I’ve been summoned by the Daey Celva. An urgent matter.” Avroz nodded to Yme, a claw touched to his highest antler point. “Apologies. I’ll return when I can.”

He vanished in a snap of static.