3 No wet cats allowed
This was bullshit. Utter, infuriating bullshit.
Antal’s mulch-antlered dad thought he could toss a letter to the Winter Plane and bring his son running home like a trained dog? Fi fumed about it all morning.
She could tell from Antal’s low tail that he was upset, too.
Their business that day was in Thomaskweld, at the rebuilt capitol building. This meant, once again, Fi had to dress respectably. Her coat fell to her calves, black wool with red ombre sleeves. Eyeliner drawn to fierce black points. Her boots had a heel that clicked pleasantly against granite tile.
Antal, by contrast, dressed simply. The Lord Daeyari had a closet full of intricate fabrics.
Opting for casual clothing made him more approachable, as much as claws allowed.
His dark hair was tousled between unadorned antlers, bare feet silent as he walked, his heels raised more like a cat than a human.
His shirt was dark blue with a high collar, a modest three buttons left unfastened. Dark trousers clung to muscled thighs.
How dare he have the audacity to look so hot when Fi was mad at him.
More so mad at his father, and Antal by spineless extension. This was the daeyari who’d murdered and eaten the first human Antal had loved. Who’d banished Antal to the Winter Plane, then neglected him for decades. And Antal wanted to go back?
Were Fi in his place, she’d commission a portrait of herself brandishing two middle fingers. Send that home instead.
They entered a wing of the capitol that had been rubble not long ago—and no, Fi still wasn’t accepting full responsibility for that, even if she had smuggled the bomb inside.
Skilled architects had reconstructed the vaulted ceilings, the aurora stained glass.
Light fixtures shaped like starbursts glinted off copper-plated wall decor, fed by energy conduits with glass viewing windows, a flow of silver magic produced by human Shapers in the city’s power factory.
But the life of this place was its people. A year ago, the mere sight of Antal had sent mortals scurrying for cover. But when Fi had kept at it, forced the daeyari to walk his city instead of teleporting through shadows…
“Good morning, Lord Daeyari.” A secretary in midnight blue nodded as he passed, on his way from the council chambers.
Antal returned the nod, curt.
“The governor is expecting you, Lord Antal,” greeted a patrolwoman down the hall.
Antal replied with a “hmph” and continued past.
If he wasn’t careful with that teeth grinding, they’d lose their hard-won progress. Fi hadn’t seen such a wet cat aura in months.
The governor’s office had tall windows overlooking the Capitol Plaza.
Files and binders lined the shelves in flawless organization.
Behind the desk sat a woman with brown skin and short black hair, built like a wolverine.
Her midnight jacket fastened with two lines of silver buttons. Her dark eyes glinted equal authority.
“Temporary” had been a word used a lot when Antal had asked Kashvi to step in as interim governor. Just to get the capital running again. Just until they organized a proper election.
Only… Kashvi had taken to the task too well. A new arena, larger than their quiet village of Nyskya. A new tavern near the river that her wife, Iliha, had snapped up as a fixer-upper. A slightly-inebriated wager of, “I’ll just put my name on the ballot and see.”
She’d won the election in a landslide.
Now, Thomaskweld’s elected governor rose from her chair with a stiff arm stretch. Her nod to Fi was brief. Her attention latched on to Antal.
“Council meeting just ended,” Kashvi said. “Here’s your work for the week.”
The next half hour was a drone of supply reports, requests from local mayors, economic tables that made Fi’s eyes glaze over. Antal, she’d learned a while ago, listened to every Void-damned word—even when his gaze sank to the carpet. His tail hung low, twitching.
Kashvi finished with a stack of papers, all signed and certified. New donations. Bodies volunteered to feed the Lord Daeyari, when they died. A slow bank to accumulate, and longer still to pay off. But progress was progress.
“More votes of confidence, daeyari.” Kashvi splayed a hand atop the papers. “Time to earn your keep. Energy foreman in the Spruce District reported one of the conduit breakers acting strangely last night. We should get that fixed first thing.”
Antal mulled the request. Nodded. Kashvi’s eyes narrowed.
“We’ve also got a new council member from Sunip,” she continued. “She wants to meet you later this week.”
Antal’s tail fell still. “That… may be difficult. I’m afraid I need to take some time away. A few days at most.”
Kashvi straightened like a rising bear, the cock of her head more brazen than most humans would risk on a daeyari. “Is that so? Didn’t realize you were up for a vacation.”
Damn. And Fi thought she’d been in a prickly mood that morning.
“Vacation?” The word cut on Antal’s fangs. “Hardly. I must visit my family.”
Kashvi blinked. “Your family?”
“They’ve requested my presence on the Twilit Plane.”
“The same family who ate your last boyfriend? And you want to visit?”
Kashvi delivered the line at a level keel, precise as a blade through the ribs. Even Fi flinched at the cutthroat summary. Antal’s tail brushed the floor, eyes smoldering crimson.
“As I said,” he returned. Flat. “I won’t be gone long. I’ll complete the conduit repairs before I leave.”
He vanished. Daeyari teleportation was faster than any mortal transport, and more dramatic, leaving a snap of static on Fi’s tongue.
She cast Kashvi a withering glare.
Was this a shitty situation? Sure. Would ignoring Antal’s family for the rest of eternity be preferable? Absolutely.
But that didn’t mean Fi wanted to see him hurt.
Kashvi scowled back. “What?”
“You’ve been working together for a year, Kashvi. Could you tone it down a little?”
Kashvi scoffed. “Got to keep these man-eaters on their toes, Fi. That’s how we’ve gotten so much use out of this one.”
“Antal agreed to this voluntarily.”
“And he did shit all for fifty years before you started batting eyelashes at him.”
Kashvi set to organizing her desk with ruthless efficiency, an uncompromising stance that Fi recognized too well.
Admittedly, a year had vastly improved Kashvi’s working relationship with Antal, considering she’d pointed a crossbow at his head during their first meeting.
She tolerated the daeyari for their common goal, setting this territory on a better path.
She still hadn’t forgiven him for eating her sister as a sacrifice years ago. That wound would always linger between them.
“Your army of smugglers is doing well,” Kashvi said, steering the subject back to work—where she and Fi got along best. “We’re expecting the next shipment of conductive metal soon. You should be there, make sure it’s up to snuff.”
“I’d love to.” Fi would, honestly, delight in heckling over metal quality for several hours. “But I think I should go with Antal.”
Fi had never seen Kashvi blink so slowly. “Go with him…”
“To visit his family.”
Kashvi dug a finger through her ear. Dramatic ass. “You want to meet his family?”
“It could be dangerous.”
“No shit.”
“He shouldn’t go alone.”
“They ate the last human he brought to them.”
Yes. Fi was extremely aware.
“I can defend myself against a few hissing daeyari.” She braced her fists on Kashvi’s desk. “And why do you care?”
Kashvi mirrored her. “Boden wouldn’t want you to go. With him gone, someone has to talk sense into you.”
The name hit like a slap. It left them both reeling.
Fi had learned, quickly, not to let her brother’s name eviscerate her. She’d had to. Otherwise, she’d still be curled up in the snow somewhere, sobbing over Boden’s selfless sacrifice in their fight against Verne.
That didn’t stop her from baring her teeth like a daeyari, fingers curled like claws against the desk. “Do not use him for your arguments,” she warned.
“I’m not using him. I…” Kashvi sighed. An uncharacteristic retreat. “You know he worried about you. All the time.”
Joke was on her. Fi had listened to Boden’s warnings even less.
“I don’t need someone to worry about me,” Fi said.
“You deserve someone to worry about you. It’s what he’d want.”
“Antal worries about me.”
Kashvi huffed. Her exterior was hard as granite, uncannily familiar.
But Fi caught the rasp in Kashvi’s breath. The flex of stiff fingers. Kashvi avoided talking about her silver sickness, magical corrosion in her muscles, her body mistakenly rejecting its own energy. With how hard she worked, the pain must be constant, even if she fought not to show it.
Fi wondered, sometimes, if Kashvi also worried that their world had gotten too big, too fast. Life had been simpler back in Nyskya, just long nights and snow-crusted windows.
“It’s not my business,” Kashvi said. “You want to go? Fine. You’re into the antlers or the claws or some shit, fine. To each their own. But don’t forget, they’re predators. Don’t go to the Twilit Plane expecting some friendly bonding with your new father-in-law.”
Now, it was Fi’s turn to blink.
She stared at Kashvi, struggling to process… father-in-law? Fi hadn’t said…
It wasn’t like…
Was it weird to consider marrying an antlered immortal? Not that Fi had ever…
Ok, it was possible that the thought had crossed her mind recently. Mostly because she liked big parties. And it seemed like a fine chance to see Antal smile. She’d never imagined his family in that picture. Fi had never imagined meeting his family at all.
Just one visit. Then she and Antal could return home, hopefully enjoy another fifty years of his father’s neglect.
“I can spend today checking on whatever metal shipments you have ready,” Fi offered. Then, recalling another promise, “When I was in Calvariz, there was a house that burned down. Could we send some resources to the family?”
“A fire?” Kashvi’s tone was dismissive in a tired way, not an uncaring one. “We have more important business than a single fire.”
Fi supposed she was right.