She hardly registered reaching for him, some subconscious gesture of consolation or coercion. Now, she joined Antal in stunned silence, fingers light against pale skin.
Antal held still. As if waiting for her to realize her mistake. To flinch away.
Fi didn’t. It was… warm beside him, a narrow shelter from the cold. Something calming in his stillness, something raw in the hum of energy beneath his skin, barely detectable against her fingertips. That tang of pine and ozone, lulling with each breath.
Antal didn’t pull away, either. She stiffened as he leaned closer.
As he slowly, gently, pressed his forehead to hers.
“You’re too kind to me, Fionamara.”
His touch stunned her like a blow, crimson eyes soft beneathlow lashes. His voice, not a growl, but a rasp, hesitant as the breath they shared. Since they’d first clashed, proximity meant bristles and claws, never this tender thing hanging whisper-quiet between them.
It locked Fi’s lungs. It pulled at her with velvet tethers.
It vanished, before she could grasp it.
Antal stepped away. His absence left Fi in a shock of cold, a swift moment of panic as she straightened her spine and clawed for composure.
As he moved to the tavern door, Antal straightened as well, tail smoothing from its restless sway. When he looked back at her, soft eyes had returned to coals, that slip of vulnerability buried beneath his stone facade.
Indifference didn’t suit him. Fi preferred him rougher. Raw.
“Shall we?” he asked.
Which was the act: the stone or the silk? If this was all a cunning trick, Fi might be out of her depth. She steadied her breath and followed him inside.
The floorboards hardly creaked beneath Antal’s steps. In the quiet, Fi’s ears pricked at murmured voices down the hall.
When Antal stepped into the room, all conversation ceased.
The tavern had closed for the night, lights dimmed except for the glow of the furnace, the dormant glass interior of the music box, a couple of copper fixtures closest to the bar. Boden paced. Kashvi sat on a barstool, crossbow on her knee, Iliha watching from behind the counter while her flock of mechanical birds dozed beside the bottles on the shelves.
A table had been pulled into the light. Steaming mugs sat upon the beaten brass, filling the room with the smell of fresh coffee, accompanied by a platter of cinnamon buns and hardy Winter cranberries, untouched. Savo leaned forward, a muchslighter man with the bulk of his jacket draped over his chair, face drawn into a squint.
Beside him sat Mal, owner of Nyskya’s general store, his stature like several logs had grown a beard and stuffed themselves into flannel, skin light brown and eyes like tar. One of the most meticulously infuriating barterers Fi had ever met.
Last was Yvette, head of the metal smithy, seated in their chair like a wire rod soldered to the wood. Their silver hair was tied into a long braid, pale cheeks flushed from cold, coat peppered with singe marks and a smell of woodsmoke.
Boden’s advisory council eyed Antal with hard eyes, chairs creaking under legs prepared to flee. The mayor stepped forward to address them, his back exposed to the daeyari. An opening vote of confidence. Surprised murmurs flitted around the table.
“Thank you for coming at such a late hour,” Boden said. “This is an issue that shouldn’t wait.”
Kashvi strummed her nails against the stock of her crossbow. “Because you got caught, you mean?”
Fuck, Kashvi.Fi knew she was upset, and rightly so. But this wasn’t helping.
Boden held out a hand, deferring to Savo.
“I had a late check-in at the power plant,” Savo said. “Found Boden and Fi there. With the daeyari.”
“Doingwhat?” Fi pushed.
Savo considered her with lips pressed. “Repairing energy conduits, looked like.”
“Really, Fi?” Kashvi said. “You’re on the daeyari’s side?” She spoke like this was a betrayal, their common history demanding they hate this beast together.
Kashvi hadn’t seen the side of Antal that Fi knew. None of these people had. Yet his demeanor now was hard to parse. Heappraised the assembly of humans in silence, sharp eyes flitting from speaker to speaker.
