She should have left that cart of energy capsules on the Autumn Plane. Should have thrown those chips back in Milana’s face. Should have run the moment their plan started to sour. So many opportunities, each doomed by her own stubbornness.
A shadow shifted across the pavilion. Fi watched in mute horror as darkness coalesced into antlers. The flick of a tail.
The daeyari, Antal, stepped into the light.
A sleek creature, fluid as the dark, more at home here in night-shrouded forest than in the halls of the capitol. He dressed in similar finery: silver caps to his antlers, high-waisted trousers cut slim to narrow hips, embroidery of conifer needles up the sleeves of a dark jacket. A cruel play at civility. As if he weren’t a beast come to devour her. His ethereal stillness remained, skin pale as bone and claws sharp at his sides.
How long had she been unconscious?
Long enough for him to learn what happened to his city. To demand a sacrifice. Fi wanted to run, but she couldn’t. She tried to shout, but she couldn’t.
“A swift response,” the daeyari said lowly. A soft blush brushed his mouth, yet behind the facade came a glint of sharp canines. Crimson eyes slid over Fi, framed in pitch black sclera, but she couldn’t even manage a shudder.
Milana bowed. “Of course, Lord Antal. We’re eager to accommodate your request.”
His scowl creased deeper, flashing a fang. “She’s drunk the tea already?”
“At her insistence. To ease her nerves. This day has been harrowing for us all.”
Liar.Fi fought to form the word, but it stalled over frigid lips. Cold seeped from the stone below. She lay defenseless as a rabbit on a chopping block, screaming inside.
A decade ago, Fi hadn’t been ready to die. She still wasn’t ready.
The daeyari loomed over her. She’d never been so close to one, glowing red eyes fierce enough to scorch. Silver lamplight glinted against the lacquer black of his antlers, the blue-black ofhis hair. He smelled like pine and ozone. Like the snap of ice that left livestock dead in the field come morning.
“And her request?” he asked.
“A willing sacrifice from among your flock,” Milana said. “She requests your aid in restoring the city.”
Fi could have laughed. Could have screamed. Milana played a devious hand, from the silver tunic she’d dressed Fi in, to the fact the daeyari hadseenher with the other attendants at the capitol.
“Very well,” he said.
The attendants bowed and turned to leave. Fi itched to shout every curse she knew.
The daeyari knelt beside her.
With every shred of stubborn will she possessed, Fi fought to shift her head. To lift a single hand against this shadow-honed beast poised to devour her. Nothing.
He rolled back his sleeves, motions crisp, baring forearms lean with muscle. Strong fingers made for carving. Would he slit her neck open? Use energy to stop her heart?
Air sank leaden in Fi’s lungs. She’d have settled for a gasp. A pathetic whimper.Nothing.
The daeyari traced claws down her throat with horrifying gentleness, the brush of his knuckles cool as a Spring breeze. A mask of composure, but up close, hunger hollowed his cheeks—parted lips and eager fangs.
Fi wished he could feel her heart racing, but even that was stubbornly still. Despite her fiercest effort to fight, to scream, her mouth barely twitched.
The daeyari paused, eyes narrowed.
He leaned closer, head tilted to the whisper of her breath.
A frail hope sparked in Fi’s chest. Never mind that their faces were too close. Never mind the chill of his breath againsther cheek. Even a rabbit deserved the dignity of a final shriek. She fought every useless muscle in her throat to work. To move. To dosomething. That leaden air in her chest, impossibly heavy as she forced it out all at once.
Her breath escaped as little more than a rasp.
Two scarce syllables, the best she could manage.
“Kill… them…”
