“You’re a fool,” he replied with insulting swiftness. “Or you don’t fear death. Unsettling. Usually, that’s a reliable trait in mortals.”
“Of course I’m afraid to die. Don’t pretendyouaren’t. Afraid you’ll come back as some… rabid chinchilla, or something.” Antal opened his mouth in protest, but Fi spoke over him. “None of that matters. Verne can’t have this territory.”
“I have no allies to muster. And with Tyvo refusing aide—”
“Could we take her down?”
“…We?”
“The two of us.”
On Fi’s kitchen table lay several empty energy capsules. Her silviamesh, shredded by daeyari claws.
And an eight-pointed black antler, severed at the stump. A trophy. A stroke of courage.
Fi grabbed the antler off the table, a reminder that daeyari weren’t as untouchable as the stories said. She’d stood her ground against Tyvo. She’d seen Antal ripped to shreds. Terrifying, powerful creatures, but theycouldbe fought.
Antal’s eyes narrowed on the severed antler of his kin.
He paced around the table, aroundher, letting his long tail drift against her arm as he passed. Fi raised her guard, tasting this alliance with hesitant sips, worried he’d spotted weakness. Had he felt her shudder at his touch? Could he use it against her? He seemed tense as he studied her, eyes sharp and mouth clamped into a firm line.
For the love of the Void, she had to stop staring at his mouth.
“What do you hope to gain from this?” he said slowly. Testing.
A negotiation. Fi stood firmer. “Verne’s a problem for both of us.”
“She’s a problem forme. Why would you aide me, risk your life to trade one daeyari for another?”
“I want Nyskya to be safe. Promise they’ll never have to send a sacrifice, and I’ll help you get rid of her.”
“That’swhat you want?” Antal frowned, his guarded exterior cracking beneath a creased brow. “You’re a smuggler. Yet you have no aspirations for fortune? Amnesty?”
Never. Fi didn’t turn to Void smuggling for riches or infamy, only because it was the easiest way to keep running. But this, she couldn’t outrun. She couldn’t do that to Boden again.
“Nyskya is my home.Youmight be able to slink back to your Old House on the Twilit Plane if this doesn’t work out, but I don’t have anywhere else.”
Antal went so stiff, he didn’t appear to be breathing.
His tail dropped near the floor. More than a glare this time,a low growl in his chest warned her of the thin ice she stood on. Fi didn’t balk. No wandering gazes to teeth.
“Sure, you’re a daeyari, like Verne,” she said. “But you let the elections run. You let your mortals govern. You’ve let Nyskya keep to ourselves. If I have to choose someone to replace that bitch, I’ll settle for you.”
Fi thought he might bite her again, in earnest this time. Antal’s breath hitched, a grating rise of his chest as he skewered her with glowing crimson irises.
But when he finally spoke, it came out too soft.
“You’re wrong on one count,” he said. “I can’t go home. But I accept your terms.”
Fi scowled. “What kind of cryptic-ass answer—”
She tensed as Antal reached past her, plucking an empty energy capsule from the table. The aircracked. Fi’s vision flashed red as a current bloomed on Antal’s fingertips, energy flooding the capsule in seconds, glass glowing with crimson light that writhed like a thing alive.
Fi’s eyes widened on the offering.
The taste of ozone fluttered her stomach, not entirely unpleasant.
“If we’re to face Verne,” Antal said. “You’ll need this. And enough luck to fill the Void.”
