6 Hard to Swallow #2
He spoke of the encounter with that unflinching confidence Antal could never master. For a daeyari, losing a piece of antler was a disgrace—but dwarfed by the greater honor of defending their people, vanquishing the beasts who sought to destroy them.
Antal huffed. “You don’t get more gold for that?”
The golden bands on Avroz’s antlers glinted as he laughed. “These are sufficient.”
Antal hadn’t heard that laugh in decades. Centuries, maybe. He remembered it, sitting beside his father when velvet had still coated his antlers, learning daeyari policy. Avroz’s smile whenever Antal got a question right. The affectionate ruffle of his father’s hand through his hair.
What had gone wrong?
Yme fell quiet, watching Avroz with a frown. Her tail rested on her pillow, not twined with her partner’s. Not even an amicable brush. The rift between them wasn’t new, but Antal had never seen it so blatant.
Was that his fault, too?
It was an old worry, one he’d thought long buried. Had Antal been the one who’d broken their family, like everything else? Could he have been a better son? A stronger daeyari?
Could he have kept Razik alive?
“We were worried about you,” Yme said softly.
Antal stayed guarded. “Worried?”
“When you lost your territory.”
“Were you?” His claws curled, too sharp against his palms again.
“Verne visited the Daey Celva,” Avroz said. “To notify us of the transition.”
He struck with precision. His opportunity waited for, noted, seized. His tone stayed mild, his focus on cleaning his claws after finishing his meal.
Antal weighed the words several times. Verne had gone to the Daey Celva? He’d never thought… but of course she had. After her coup, she must have gone to the council to make her case. A petition for ownership of his territory.
“And you approved her request?” Antal said, harder than he ought to.
Avroz picked a bit of bone off a claw. “Verne followed the proper protocols.”
“I noticed.”
“And then you sent her severed head back to the council. Bold, Antal. You could have delivered the message yourself.”
Antal hadn’t thought he was allowed to come back.
But after killing Verne, his council-appointed neighbor, it had been crucial to notify them swiftly, ahead of any rumors.
He’d tracked down the daeyari courier appointed to the Winter Plane, had written a message detailing Verne’s attempted coup, her refusal of all peaceful reconciliation, a reaffirmed claim to his territory. And a box with Verne’s head as proof.
“I’m glad to amuse you,” Antal said through his teeth.
“Amused?” At last, Avroz looked up. His grin bared a fang. “I’m impressed. Verne was a fool to think she’d triumph so easily. I knew you had it in you.”
“Did you?”
“But how did you do it? Beat her, that is. I’ve been dreadfully curious.”
“You could have asked.”
“I’m asking now, Antal.”
“I could have died!”
Antal snarled the words, rage pent up since the moment he’d arrived in this wretched place. The accusation rang across the room.
Then silence.
Yme regarded him with eyes wide, tail uncomfortably still.
Avroz drank his son’s vitriol with that same calm. Only the subtlest twitch of a smirk. He loved breaking opponents, proving he was right.
“Yet here you sit,” Avroz said, viciously soft. “Triumphant.”
“Here I sit.” Antal bared his teeth, burying his attempts at civility—because fuck him if this wasn’t a losing battle, his father always a step ahead of him in whatever sadistic game they were playing.
“Here I sit, having scraped for everything on my own. You knew what Verne had done. And you couldn’t be bothered to send a single scrap of support? ”
Avroz scoffed like Antal was still a child. Like he always would be. “It would have been improper for me to intercede in territory business.”
“You could have—”
“I would have. If you’d asked. But you didn’t. Instead, you settled your business on your own. Well done.”
Antal hated it.
He hated that his own father had banished him to another Plane. That he’d left Antal to struggle. That he’d known every step of Verne’s plan yet done nothing to help.
But more than anything, Antal hated that it had worked. That he had beaten Verne, he had emerged stronger. Just as Avroz intended.
“Sloppy work, is all,” Avroz continued. “Killing Verne, rather than forcing her to step down. You caused a stir among the Old Houses. Nothing that can’t be smoothed over.”
There it was. A lecture. Antal’s father had summoned him here just for a lecture?
“Enough, Avroz,” Yme snapped. “No more politics tonight. Antal hasn’t been home in far too long, he ought to—”
“Rest,” Antal interjected. “I’ve had a long day before my journey here. I’d appreciate some rest. If you’ll excuse me.”
He stood. Antal allowed himself some small credit, for doing so without his father’s permission.
His mother looked up at him, entreating. “Antal—”
“I’ll be glad to see your garden tomorrow morning, azaevi. Thank you for the meal.”
He bowed his head and touched his highest antler tip to her.
Grudgingly, to Avroz.
At last, he faced Fionamara. She hadn’t moved from her seat at the side of the room—her eyes wider than usual. Her face too pale. That might be what broke Antal worse than anything else tonight.
“Come,” he commanded.
He left the sitting room, relieved to hear Fionamara’s soft footsteps following.