“Ok, well,” Fi snapped. “You didn’t find me either!”
“So that was my responsibility, too? I have to do everything for you?”
Of course not. Fi wasn’t saying any of this right. But two daeyari were snarling a few feet away, and this room was alarmingly short on exits, and she didn’t have aweapon—
“I’ve kept my territory in line for five decades.” Antal’s teeth flashed wicked canines.
“Have you?” Verne’s tone rose with his. “Your mortals do whatever they please. Antal the Lax. Antal theGenerous. The whispers are maddening.”
“You’d breach our peace on grounds of rumors?”
“Antal, dear.” Verne stepped the closest yet, snarling faces nearly touching. She hovered claws over his antlers, tracing the carvings—lingering on one section left blank. “I have my choice of rumors aboutyou.”
He swatted her arm away. “That’s no business of yours.”
They took up distance, pacing. Fi had seen wolves fight over territory, sensed the bristle of teeth about to snap. But she’d never seen immortals fight. She’d neverheardof daeyari fighting each other, had zero desire to see what it looked like. Or who’d emerge victorious.
“Well,” Astrid said. “Doesn’t look like this is going to end nicely.”
She stood like a cat uncoiling. Slow and lithe, ruby eyes sharp with hunter’s focus.
Fi lurched to grab her hand.
Call it an instinct. A weakness. Fi didn’t know the right things to say, but—
“We can leave.” Fi’s grip tightened, clammy against Astrid’s slender fingers, callus against callus. “While the daeyari are distracted. We can run away. We can figure this out.” One mistake didn’t have to ruin them forever.
Astrid went steel stiff. Eyes wide. Her mouth parted on a shallow inhale, hand flexing within Fi’s fingers. Then…
“What in the endless black Void makes you think I’d leave withyou?”
The words struck past every bristle, straight to Fi’s heart.
“I will not abdicate,” Antal spat at Verne in unison. “So unless you plan to take this to the Daey Celva—”
“Why would Ieverrun away with you?” Astrid ripped her hand out of Fi’s. “After what you did?”
Her shout snared the daeyari’s attention.
A toss up, for which spiked Fi’s pulse worse: Astrid eviscerating her heart? Or two immortals pausing their argument to stare at her? Antal’s crimson eyes darted between Fi and Astrid, a subtle furrow on his brow.
While he looked away, Verne vanished, leaving static on Fi’s tongue.
Fi could pretend she was brave—while Verne was in sight. So long as she had an active total of thecreatures who could eat herin the room at any given time. She scoured every window, every red-glowing rafter, searching for the missing beast.
So did Antal. Andtherewas the predator she expected him to be: eyes scorching bright, chin raised to scent the air. His ire settled on Astrid.
“Where has your daeyari gone, vavriter?”
Despite a daeyari snarling at her, despite being outnumbered, Astrid was cast of steel. Even in their worst fights, that glare had never been so hard. It warned Fi not to run again. Not to even try.
For the daeyari, Astrid bent at the waist, a mocking bow. “I assume she’s raising the terms, Lord Antal.”
A growl rumbled the room.
Not from Antal. Somewhere outside.
When static hit Fi’s tongue, Antal’s attention snapped sideways. A latch. A creak. Verne pushed open the tall double-doors from the patio. Cold entered with her, the wind off the cliffs snaring what raven hair wasn’t bound in braids, bells a harrowing chime upon her antlers. She stood ice-still upon her threshold.
