But he was alive.
Fi was alive.
Which only left…
“Do it, you coward!” Verne shouted. “Isn’t this what you came for?”
Antal bared fangs at his fallen rival, breaths labored as sparks of crimson knit his skin back together. His tail swayed low. Uncertain. Here they stood at the verge of triumph, yet the hardest decision remained.
He looked to Fi with fear in his eyes.
“I’ll be back,” Verne vowed. “Whether it takes me a century or ten, I’ll be back for you.”
Back with fiercer claws, longer fangs. Or would Verne’s journey of rematerialization rob her of enough sense that she’d forget her vendetta and never trouble them again? The pinch of Antal’s brow said he didn’t know for certain.
Fi didn’t know, either. She’d taken lives before, never out of malice, but when her own survival was threatened. Verne certainly threatened her survival, even if killing her would buy temporary peace at the price of future peril.
Fi and Antal were still standing there, neither willing to make the move, when footsteps scraped the stairs outside.
She spun to face the door, energy ready at her fingertips as the Beast daeyari burst into the room with a screech of clawson tile, lithe white limbs and…Astridmounted on his back. She hunched atop the monstrosity with burnt arms and bloody coat, gripping gnarled antlers for balance. The daeyari dropped to a prowl, growling at Fi and Antal through bared fangs.
Then, he spotted Verne on the ground.
The creature’s eyes snapped feral as a wolf scenting blood. With a curse, Astrid stumbled off his back, planting her boots and grabbing antlers to stop the Beast from charging. He snarled back at her but didn’t fight.
“Astrid,” Verne called in a pitiful rasp. “Help me.”
She reached a shaking hand toward her Arbiter. Her claws curled as if she still held the leash choking Astrid’s neck. Astrid’s knuckles whitened, eyes wide upon her fallen mistress.
“You did it,” Astrid said in a hush. “By the merciless Void, youdidit.” She looked to Fi, bewildered. Pleading. “What are you waiting for?”
Waiting for courage, the resolve to act and live with the consequences. Antal kept telling Fi she was brave. The way he looked at her now, eyes bright and jaw set, said that confidence never wavered.
“You decide,” he told her.
“Her?” Verne spat. “You’d have your human pet make decisions you’re too afraid to?” Back to her Arbiter. “Astrid. Navek. This is the craven daeyari you’d throw yourselves behind? I brought you out of nothing. I’ve given you everything you ever needed!”
Antal never looked away from Fi. “My fight with Verne is political. She’s hurt you in far worse ways. What end do you find just?”
Verne had taken so much—her home, her life with Astrid. Her brother. Yet this reached beyond Fi. The people of Nyskya, displaced from their villages. All the sacrifices Verne had glutted on. And in this room, Astrid and her Beast huddled together,haunted eyes latched to the Lord Daeyari who’d wielded them like tools.
If Verne left here alive, none of them would know peace. The alternative was a gamble.
Fi had never let a gamble intimidate her.
She looked to Astrid. “Do it.”
Fear sparked in Verne’s eyes. She squirmed, but her blood-smeared hand found no purchase against the sword.
“Astrid,” Verne said—a command, now. A threat. “Don’t be stupid. You think they’ll let you leave here alive? After all you’ve done? Help me, and I’ll forgive you for—”
Astrid released the Beast’s antlers.
In one lunge, he was upon his prey. Fi wasn’t surprised to find Verne a coward in the end, writhing in panic as the Beast caged her chest in his claws, a scream as teeth closed on her skull. The Beast braced. Tore. Verne’s head came off in a crack of spine, followed by a jolt of energy that left a burnt taste on Fi’s tongue. Tendrils of scarlet sizzled over the ground.
Then quiet.
Verne’s body fell limp. Her energy fizzled like spent embers, leaving black blood and scorched lines across the floor. The Beast dropped her head then growled over the corpse, claws digging into inert flesh. Let him have it. Fi wouldn’t have intervened.
