Antal stood a long moment in silence, trapped in their staring match. Maybe this was good. Maybe the best approach was to not say anything and let Kashvi warm to him like a panther drawn to her hearth.
“What was her name?” Antal asked quietly.
Kashvi froze with a handful of glasses.
Was it possible for Fi todoublehold her breath?
“Emira,” Kashvi said, curt.
“Emira.” Antal spoke the name with slow purpose. “Would you tell me something about her?”
Kashvi’s fingers curled against the countertop. “She was brave. But you know that already. Also funny. Kind. She collected succulent plants from the Summer Plane, built a special growing lamp to keep them alive through Winter.”
“She looked like you?”
A muscle feathered in Kashvi’s jaw. She said nothing.
“I remember her,” Antal said, painfully quiet. “She spoke well. Afraid, but she was brave. As you said.”
Kashvi’s hand twitched at the counter’s edge. Fi shifted between them, ready to intervene should she have to split apart a cat fight. Antal, she could handle, no worries. But she didn’t know where Kashvi hid all her weapons and—
“Did it hurt?” Kashvi asked.
A crease wrought Antal’s brow. “No. I never hurt them.”
Kashvi’s eyes went black as Void sky. Fi had never seen such a vicious look for her own antics, not for the rowdiest patrons, nor even that time a bear had tried to break into the kitchen. Kashvi probably had a crossbow stashed under the counter, right?
Instead of reaching for it, she nodded. A bitter reply, but final, her motions militant as she collected her cups and retrieved a liquor bottle from the shelf.
Fi breathed again. When she returned to her seat at the table,Boden met her with a “did that go well?” stare. Damn if she knew. Kashvi went about her tasks like a disgruntled vole.
Antal pulled out a chair. Studied it. He sat on the edge with a stiff lean, and not until that moment did Fi realize what a hassle mortal chairs posed for a creature with a tail. She stifled a laugh, grateful for any distraction from the tense atmosphere.
“Do you drink, daeyari?” Kashvi set glasses on the table.
“Actually, I”—Antal snarled when Fi kicked his shin—“would be glad to join. Thank you.”
Kashvi sat. Poured. The liquor was light blue, wafting a smell of juniper and cinnamon.
The room quieted to the trickle of liquid. The groan of wind on the roof. Kashvi distributed glasses, even sliding one to Antal with a begrudging flick.
“Glad you could join us,” Boden said, proffering the olive branch. “I had doubts about this plan. We all did. But we appreciate all you’ve done to bring the pieces together.”
“I’ve done what I can.” Antal swirled his glass. “What I should have done earlier.”
Kashvi’s laugh came humorless. “Look at that. Finally, something we agree on.”
Fi and Boden swapped looks. Her pinched lips said, “Can you believe this bitch?” Boden’s hard stare was a familiar one. “Don’t make this worse.”
“Fi has a knack for finding interesting company,” Boden said, keeping the tone light. “She’s outdone herself this time.”
“She leaves quite an impression herself,” Antal said, too low.
Fi’s stomach tightened into hot little knots. Void save her if anyone realized what an impression Antal had left onher. Or in her.
“To good impressions.” She raised her glass.
The liquor went down like a crossbow bolt, a spike in Fi’sstomach and a cinnamon fuzz coating her mouth. She winced, savoring the swift buzz. Boden finished his drink with more of a pained pucker.
