“Home first.”
His head tilted to contemplate her hands locked around his antlers. Next, the compromising position of her legs around hiswaist. “You can’t be serious.”
“Try me.”
Each word came with greater confidence. Fi didn’t let herself think of this as a game between prey and predator. A contest of stubbornness, she stood better chance at.
Antal let out half a growl, half a beleaguered mutter of, “Veshri’s fucking teeth…”
He stood.
A cumbersome prospect, with Fi wrapped around his front like a burr. She stiffened when he braced an arm around her back—startled at how easily he lifted her. His only sway came from her grip on his antlers, tipping his head to an awkward angle. As a show of good faith, she tucked her hands around the back of his neck.
Fi repressed a shudder, pressed so close to a flesh-eating beast.
Antal’s exhale brushed her cheek, eyes smoldering crimson beneath dark lashes. She tried not to think of the fangs behind his scowl. Her stomach squirmed at the heat off his chest, the firm wrap of his arm around her waist, steadying her against him.
A predator, made to hunt hares like her. Only civil to get what he wanted.
“I need directions,” he said.
Fi mulled the words, alert for another diversion. “What do you mean?”
“I can’t justappearwherever I wish. I can only teleport to places I’ve been before, or where I can see.”
There came a small reassurance amidst this trainwreck: the knowledge that daeyari hadsomelimits to their abilities.
“Two miles northeast of Nyskya,” she said. “On the ridgeline. There’s a cabin in a clearing below the summit.”
He nodded. She held her breath.
The world snapped black then back again, leaving Fi colderand dizzier with each teleport. Mortal flesh wasn’t made for this kind of transit, but her misery eased at a welcome sight: a familiar snowy ridge, the village of Nyskya glowing like gold dust on the valley below. Fi tipped her chin to a clearing in the firs.
“Down there,” she said.
One more time. The quick jumps passed easier, yet Fi’s stomach rioted as they lurched to a halt. They emerged in a clearing, quiet in the moonlight.
At the sight of her cottage, she toppled off Antal, eager for the crunch of familiar snow beneath her boots, the shelter of familiar conifers. Three days away from home, yet Fi might as well have stress-aged a decade.
Within the dark trunks, a shadow shifted, horse-shaped.
Fi made a pathetic, high-pitched sound.
She ran to Aisinay as the horse trotted forward, finned ears perked and a snort in greeting. Fi hugged her scaled neck. Aisinay nibbled her shoulder.
“You beautiful girl! I’m so sorry I left you.” Fortunate, that Fi had left Aisinay safe on a Shard while the building exploded. And that Void horses were as good at navigating Curtains as Fi was. When she didn’t return, Aisinay must have wandered home for a more comfortable wait.
The horse snorted, ears flat as she pulled away and pranced back into the trees.
Reluctantly, Fi faced the source of her agitation.
Antal stood like a wraith, clothes and antlers pitch-dark in the meager moonlight. His red eyes held Fi like a hand around her throat.
“Thank you,” she said, backing toward her cottage. “This has been the opposite of fun in every way. I say we call it even.”
A growl rumbled his chest as he stepped toward her. Sleekmovements. Arms tensing as he flexed his claws. “Our business isn’t finished.”
Fi was on her porch. Hand on the door. “Well, that’s strange. Because I think our business isabsolutelyfinished.”
