“What about Tyvo?” Boden pressed.
Antal huffed. “He might have agreed to Verne’s bid. But fighting for her would be an act of aggression. He’ll stay out of this, or face repercussions from the Daey Celva.”
Boden fell quiet, weighing the arguments with a slump to his shoulders.
Then, he surprised Fi.
He straightened in his chair, meeting Antal’s gaze with the same resolve Fi had tried to master, as if the same instinct told him he couldn’t cower if he wanted this creature to take him seriously. This new man of resolve wasn’t Fi’s worry-prone Bodie. This was Boden Kolbeck, Mayor of Nyskya.
“Five years ago,” Boden told Antal, “when I became mayor. You visited me.”
Fi went stiff as a corpse. Her brain did that thing where it sort of… stopped working a moment, a fizzle between her ears as she reset.
When she and Boden had dragged themselves to Nyskya seven years ago, an evening of hard confessions and harder ciderin a corner of Kashvi’s tavern, they’d forged a path forward under a pact of honesty. No more lies. No evasions. Since then, Boden told her everything. He told her which aurorabeasts were picky eaters. He told her who in the village paid taxes late. He told her when she was being a reckless idiot, letting deals turn too dicey.
He’d never told her about meeting a daeyari.
Antal’s tail swayed as he appraised Nyskya’s mayor.
“You offered me coffee,” the daeyari said.
“You told me you don’t drink coffee,” Boden returned.
“But humans don’t usually offer.”
“You promised me,” Boden said, “if I didn’t request aid from Thomaskweld, I’d never see you again. I’d never have to send a sacrifice.”
“And I kept that promise.” Antal flashed a grimace. “To the best of my ability.”
Fi couldn’t believe this. They’d met before, and Boden never told her?
Of course he hadn’t told her. She was rash. Jumpy around daeyari. Not to be trusted with political intricacy. The slight didn’t have to sting, if she saw the rationale behind it.
But it did sting a little.
“Do you promise me now.” Boden leaned forward his chair. “My people will be safe while you stay here?”
Antal weighed the request.
“I swear.” The daeyari dipped his head, tapping a claw to the highest point of his antlers. “As Veshri watches from the Void.”
Veshri. The first immortal daeyari, Antal had called him, though he spoke the name with the hush Fi’s people once used for their old gods. Only, her gods turned out to be make-believe. Was a daeyari deity more likely to be real?
She shuddered at the thought. One of the comforts of theVoid was its emptiness. Fi didn’t like the idea of something out there watching her.
Antal’s oath stripped some tension from the room. Boden leaned back in his chair, letting out a long breath. “Ok.” He looked to Fi. “Confronting Verne. Do you have a plan?”
They kept coming back to that, didn’t they?
“Working on it.” Fi flicked a glance at Antal. “He… hasn’t eaten in a while. If you can spare an aurorabeast, I’ll buy one off you.”
Boden’s scowl, Fi expected. He loved those big, dumb creatures. But if the choice came down to an aurorabeast or a villager to keep Antal from going feral?
Boden stared at his boots, fingers combed in contemplation through the frizz of his beard. “What if… I could do you one better?”
Fi had no clue what that meant.
“I’ve been fishing for information,” Boden explained. “About Cardigan?”
