Antal’s growl rumbled low in his chest. Fi bared her teeth the same, which only amused Verne further. The daeyari lord stood with velvet coat and silvered antlers wreathed in the growing dawn, flawlessly confident.
Just like every narcissist who’d tried to swindle Fi over theyears. Yet Verne wasn’t fully relaxed: tail coiled, weight taut on the balls of bare feet. Bluffers, all these daeyari. Verne had avoided killing Antal from the start, suggesting she shared his hesitance for slaying rivals and creating reincarnated beasts.
“But you’ve neglected manners, Antal,” Verne said. “You offer only teeth? No discussion of terms?”
Fi gripped her sword hilt. “I’ve got hertermsright—”
Antal waved a hand to quiet her—bold of him,to think she gave a shit about diplomacy, but Fi restrained herself long enough to give him a chance. He stepped forward, fierce as a proper Lord Daeyari, and if Verne touched him, Fi would grind her antlers into glitter.
“My terms,” Antal said. “Return my territory, and I’ll rule as I see fit. No more living sacrifices.”
This, at last, struck Verne’s calm. Her expression melted from smug. To baffled. To a fang-sharp sneer.
“No sacrifices?” she said.
“I won’t rule my people with fear.”
“That’s what this is about? All this trouble for a naïve, pointless promise?” Her voice lowered. “The Daey Celva will never abide that. You should know better than anyone.”
“Then I’ll deal with the Daey Celva.”
“Do you want to hear my terms, then?” Verne hardened, that crack like early-morning cold. “Leave. Never show your face here again. Or I’ll send your energy back to the Void, and your antlers back to your father with a note of what a disappointment you’ve been.”
Never mind—Verne’s antlers were turning into glitter regardless.
Antal’s tail flicked, claws curled into sickles. Two crossbows flanked him, and Fi with her sword. This wasn’t how the planwas meant to go, but they still had Verne outnumbered. If Astrid could keep the Beast out of the fight…
“Astrid,” Verne said.
Astrid flinched when the daeyari said her name, scarlet eyes flicking to her Arbiter for the first time.
“It’s good to see you.” Verne spoke viciously soft. “I was concerned when you didn’t come back. Perhaps this would be a good time to assure me of where your loyalties lie?”
Astrid stood with the slowness of a cornered hare. Fi watched a dozen tangled emotions ghost across her face: that glass-eyed fear of facing Verne’s wrath. Shock, at how swiftly Antal stepped to Fi’s defense. A calculation, gauging the distance he’d left between them.
“Astrid,” Verne snapped. “You belong tome, not this sniveling coward. Come here.”
Ok. That was enough diplomacy.
Fi readied her sword with a snarl, red energy bright against her arms and crackling ozone on her tongue. She wouldn’t stand idle while Verne insulted her. Insulted Antal. Insulted Astrid, after Fi had vowed to protect her. She lurched toward the usurping daeyari—
Astrid moved like the snap of a willow bough.
She snatched Fi’s wrist, twisting the sword from her hand then pinning her arm behind her back. Fi snarled, confusion and outrage throwing her off balance as Astrid pressed an energy dagger to her throat.
Soft lips pressed her ear.
“Trust me,” Astrid whispered.
Fi’s treacherous heart had never stopped trusting her.
But shit, Astrid, this wasn’t the best time for a team building exercise. Antal pivoted, eyes widening on the blade held to Fi’s neck, a snarl for Astrid that promised splintered bones. He’dvowed to rip the Arbiter’s spine out piece by piece. Yet when he stepped closer, Astrid pressed her dagger, hot energy searing Fi’s skin.
Antal froze. Verne grinned.
In that moment, Fi understood the plan.
“Call off your daeyari, Fi.” Astrid spoke with bravado, but Fi felt the trembling hand against her neck. Both of them, thrust into this world of teeth, forced to fight for survival.
