It wouldn’t be fair to say he understood the flaws of their world the same way a human did—living in fear of being eaten wasn’t the same as watching secondhand. Yet there was common ground in their grief, that glaze to Antal’s eyes as he played through memories he wished desperately to change.
Fi knew that ache. Too well.
“You’re right, of course.” Antal spoke with head low, eyes on the table. “I could have done more as your territory lord. I’ve been complacent, indecisive… just as I was for him. Now you’ve given me a chance to do better. I know you doubt my intentions. But Iamgrateful.”
Fi wanted to comfort. To tell him she understood. Taking his hand again seemed too intimate with other eyes watching.
Instead, she slid her leg beneath the table, a brush against his. Antal didn’t look up. His face betrayed nothing at her gesture.
Slowly, his tail wrapped around her, resting in a soft curl at the bend of her knee.
In the silent room, a stopper popped. Liquid bubbled as Kashvi poured another round of drinks. She, too, seemed changed, softer-eyed and less bristled.
Not forgiveness. Something closer to understanding. A first step.
“What was his name?” Kashvi asked.
Antal hesitated. “Razik.”
The name came off his tongue like something disused, stashed out of sight collecting dust. Kashvi spun an impatient finger at Antal’s overturned glass. He flipped it over. She poured.
“When my sister and I were little,” Kashvi said, “we visited family on the Summer Plane. This sunny peach orchard that seemed to stretch forever, and at the end of the day, we each got a cone of peach ice cream. I dropped mine in the dirt. Cried like a blubbering fur seal. Emira picked me up, smiled and handed her own ice cream to me. Always selfless. Always looking to help others. The same reason she came to you.”
Kashvi set the bottle on the table.
“Do you understand, daeyari?”
Antal considered. “Yes.”
“I want you to remember her. Every single person you’ve ever eaten had a life, a future. Just like your friend. Just like Razik.”
Antal let out a stiff breath. Nodded.
Kashvi raised her glass. “To Razik.”
Fi and Boden lifted their drinks like wary hares. They looked to Antal. Waiting.
He took his glass in delicate claws. “To Emira,” he said softly.
They all drank. This toast came smoother than the first, fewer glares. Fi gulped the fire down her throat then slammed her glass to the table.
“Enough of this,” she ordered. “So Void-damned morbid. This is no way to celebrate.”
Boden ran a hand over his face. “Well fuck, Fi.Youstarted it.”
She had. Time to make amends.
“A drinking contest,” she proposed to clear the air. “That’s a proper way to celebrate. You in, Bodie?”
He eyed her. His empty glass. “Um…”
“Glad to hear it. How about you, Antlers?”
Antal blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You. Me.” Fi pointed between them with command—and a little waver, after the mulled wine and two shots. “Drinking contest. Bring it on!”
A somber grin touched his mouth, gone so fast, she might have imagined it.
