18 Room for One More
Antal didn’t like this plan, but there was no arguing with her.
There was no fucking arguing with her when she’d looked at him with those dark, determined eyes. When she’d fought him with her teeth. When she’d put him on his back and—
He shuddered in the midday breeze of Thomaskweld. His shirt was midnight fabric, inlaid with swirls of iridescence, more decorative than warming. Daeyari flesh wasn’t damaged by cold. His skin prickled all the same.
He stood upon the steps of his capitol building.
Breathed the pine-and-metal laced air of his city.
Listened down the main avenue for the waking hum of his people, all their talking and laughing in defiance of soft flesh and Winter chilling their doorsteps.
He could safeguard all of this, get exactly what he needed from the Daey Celva.
He just had to kill an aedari to do it.
Antal hadn’t been more than ten years old when his father first held a vial of golden aedari blood to his nose. Smell it, Avroz had told him, and never forget. This is one of the few creatures in the Shattered Planes that can hurt you.
Antal had never seen one. He’d certainly never fought one.
Fionamara had even less idea what they were up against.
He waited for her atop the steps. As weak Winter sunlight filled the capitol plaza, a pair of patrolmen passed, nodding to Antal.
Clerks and secretaries bustled through the building foyer, the thrum of a city alive.
It was nearly time to leave when he finally spotted her, returning from the main avenue on sure strides, dressed in—
Fucked. In two hundred and fifty years, Antal had never been so hopelessly fucked by another living creature. He wondered, frequently, if it would be the death of him.
Fionamara wore her silviamesh. The silken armor clung to her curves like a second skin, a bodysuit of slate gray trimmed with maroon, framing every perfect line of her thighs. Her boots were matte black leather. Her jacket, black wool embroidered with red.
And her hair.
Since the moment they’d met, Antal had perplexed over Fionamara’s rainbow curls. He’d studied how they tangled when she fought, when she laughed, when she arched moaning beneath him. That morning, she’d left into the city with rainbows framing her cheeks.
She returned with a crown of crimson.
Black roots still, deep as the Void. Her natural shade now melted into solid red, bright and vicious as daeyari energy. As vicious as her. By Veshri’s high and sharpened antlers, in that hair she looked like a creature untamed.
She looked like a creature who could command Veshri himself. By her account, she’d done just that, had crossed paths with the wandering immortal when she’d fallen into the Void. Not even Avroz could claim that honor.
Fionamara smirked up the steps with a knowing sway to her hips, a hand flicked beneath her hair to show off the new color. “Well? How does it look?”
Antal was a saint for not grabbing her there, dragging her into some quiet alcove of the capitol building. Peeling that silviamesh off her.
“We have an appointment to keep,” he said, too rough.
“Oh?” She grasped his collar, a possessive tug that sent heat simmering straight to his cock. “And what would you do to me if we didn’t?”
He couldn’t answer that. Not if they had any hope of arriving on time. Her hair smelled of firewood, laced with fresh sweetness from the dye. Antal settled for a kiss to her temple. He dragged a single claw up her armored thigh, not caring who saw.
“We’re only gathering information today,” he said. “Why do you need armor?”
“How many daeyari will be there?”
“Avroz. Both his kezri, most likely. The lord of the territory with the most recent aedari disturbance, and… fine. Point taken.” His voice lowered. “You’re certain you want to come?”
Fionamara grinned, lips painted a devious maroon, eyes framed with knife-sharp eyeliner. “We meet Avroz on the Summer Plane. We find where this aedari is hiding. We get you on the Dusk Council, get some gold on your antlers—very sexy, by the way. Easy.”
Easy? Nothing with his father was ever easy. Fionamara’s look dared him to argue.
He relented and took her hand, pulling them both into a teleport.
The Summer Plane was oppressively bright.
After a lifetime of twilight, Antal had taken time to adjust to even the weak sun of the Winter Plane. Summer blazed. Even shrouded beneath dense forest, he squinted at dappled light through soft green leaves, the breeze full of wood and forest decay.
They stood upon a stone patio, pillars arcing toward the canopy like bleached ribs. An old daeyari shrine. Fionamara took in the terrain with sharp eyes, the pinched nose of a predator. If she’d had natural claws, she’d be the bane of every beast in the Planeverse.
Unfortunately, two creatures with claws awaited them.
Hot iron twisted Antal’s ribs at the sight of Ixli perched upon a stone block, sunbeams spotting skin and snowy hair, dressed in a sleeveless gray silviamesh tunic and trousers.
Her greeting was a glare and a twitch of her dangling tail, her scent of moonlight and bark melding with the trees.
Avroz dressed in dark blue, as always. Edged in silver, as always. His antlers speared the sunlight, sharp tips capped in metal, aside from the one point missing.
He turned. Antal enjoyed a split second of docile greeting, his father almost smiling.
Then Avroz snapped red eyes to Fionamara.
“No,” he said. “Absolutely not.”
Antal huffed. “Good afternoon to you as well, izaevi.”
Ixli armed herself with a feral squint. Fionamara glared back with equal ferocity. Merciless Void, Antal didn’t have the constitution for this.
“We have important work to do,” Avroz said.
“And Fionamara has offered to help,” Antal returned.
“Your pet shouldn’t be here.”
Antal felt Fionamara bristle. He smelled the heat of her magic, furious energy sizzling on her fingertips. He stepped toward his father, a wall between them.
“What harm will she do?” Antal demanded. Low. Too close to pleading.
“She’s a distraction.”
Antal saw it as a flash: blood on the floor, Razik reaching for him. A distraction, hissed through his father’s fangs.
This time would be different. It had to be.
“You want me here?” Antal stepped as close as he dared. “You want me on your council? We’re facing an aedari. We’ll need every claw and blade we can—”
Static hit the back of his tongue.
Antal swung to bare his teeth at Ixli… but found her still on her perch.
Syvr stood upon the patio.
They dressed in light blue and eggshell, layered tunics cut slim to their frame. Two silver chains glinted from their antlers as their head cocked. Not a foot away, Fionamara glowered at the daeyari inspecting her like a shiny toy. Antal watched her lips thin. Her fingers curled claws.
“Syvr—” he tried to warn.
“Is this one yours, Antal?” Syvr grinned, that too-light gesture. “We have such a short trip today. I didn’t expect you’d bring your own snack.”
Antal saw every step of the catastrophe.
Fionamara’s spine went steel stiff. Syvr reached for her, catching a crimson curl in their claw with amused curiosity. Before Antal could stop her, an energy dagger flared silver.
She plunged it through Syvr’s ribs, straight into their heart.
As Syvr dropped to their knees with a wheeze, Antal snared a snarling Fionamara around her waist, pulling her back from her prey. She writhed in his grip.
Then stilled, as the red edge of an energy spear pressed her throat.
Ixli moved swift as wind. Silent as moonbeams. The base of her weapon looked unassuming, a metal pole shaft.
She Shaped the blade out of energy, a spear tip as long as his forearm.
She’d visited him once during his travel years, a world closer to the Contested Planes, where derived daeyari were more common.
A midnight walk, interrupted by a beast, its reincarnated form twisted to mimic a massive boar.
Ixli’s spear had skewered its thick hide like parchment, sending it fleeing.
Now, she stood between Syvr and Fionamara, weapon raised and glower lethal. When Fionamara growled back, Antal had to be the one to raise a hand, brokering peace.
“Ixli,” he pleaded.
She didn’t soften. Fuck. That used to work.
Behind her came another wheeze.
“Syvr.” Ixli extinguished her spear blade, stowing the shaft against her back as she knelt.
Syvr leaned hard on one knee, breath rasped, hand pressed to their chest. They pounded a fist to their sternum. Coughed. Held up a finger. Red energy snapped over the edges of the wound, knitting it closed.
Syvr was being a little dramatic. Antal had been stabbed in the chest before—an even earlier tryst than Ixli, a fierce misunderstanding about a missed date. For daeyari, a blade to their false heart was unpleasant. Not fatal.
Fionamara knew that. She glared down at her victim.
Merciless Void. They hadn’t even gotten to introductions.
“Why is she here?” Ixli seethed. “Your vavraesa has worthless instincts, Antal, sticking daggers into daeyari. As if she’s not made of twigs and tissue paper.”
Fionamara tensed. Antal tightened his grip on her waist as if his life depended on it.
“Well, excuse me,” Fionamara snarled. “Tell him to—”
“They.” Syvr coughed, still clutching their chest.
Fionamara blinked. “What?”
“They,” Syvr rasped. “Please.”
“Well, they can keep their fucking hands to themself!”
“Noted. And thank you.”
“Antal.” Avroz slid into the conversation like a knife. His pointed look finally silenced Syvr’s coughing. A daggered glare at Fionamara made her show her teeth.
“Control your human,” Avroz ordered.
Veshri’s fangs. If only Antal knew how.
“Control her?” Ixli stood, tail high and thrashing. Antal had never seen her bare her teeth like that to Avroz. “She shouldn’t be here.”
“Calm your scant tits, Ixli,” Syvr said. “I’m fine.”
They stood. A slow venture, but a deep breath and a spit of blood steadied them. “See? Fine.” They eyed Fionamara with a grin. “This one’s fast with a dagger. I’ll remember that. Syvr, by the way. We haven’t met?”
They held out a hand.
Fionamara stared at it like a venomous snake.
Daeyari didn’t shake hands in greeting. Antal had certainly never shaken hers. But Syvr travelled across enough Planes to be well-versed in local gestures. Wary, Antal released her. Fionamara lifted her chin.
“Fi.” She grabbed Syvr’s hand with visible ferocity. A challenge. Like everything with her.
Syvr’s grin widened. “Antal brought you?” Then, lower, “Are you the one who took Tyvo’s antler?”
Avroz’s spymaster inspected her with too many teeth in their smile. Not the honed razor of Antal’s father, but the buzz of a bee to pollen, eyes darting over every detail of her posture, flitting between her and Antal. Collecting. Savoring.
Antal didn’t like that, either.
Ixli’s ire was, by comparison, simpler to deal with.
“Ixli.” Avroz spoke her name as a command, prompting her to step back with head bowed. Next, a look to Syvr. “We’re late. And should look presentable.”
Syvr’s tail swished as they inspected their tunic, poking a claw through the hole Fionamara’s dagger had cut, a stain of black blood at the edges.
“No worries. Back in a flash. I’ll meet you there?” They grinned, then vanished.
Last, Avroz studied the vengeful human glaring at him. His tail took on a low swish, slow with contemplation. Antal braced for the fight.
“She may come,” Avroz said. “If she can refrain from stabbing any more of our allies.”
Antal flinched at the concession as much as a bite. Avroz didn’t make concessions unless it suited his interests. Letting Fionamara go so easily on the Twilit Plane, agreeing to let her join them now, made no sense for the cold and calculated daeyari Antal knew, not unless…
Antal shivered at the memory of his father’s gentle hand through his hair. That moment he’d softened on the council balcony.
This couldn’t genuinely be an attempt to make amends. After so many years?
“I can’t promise that,” Fionamara muttered at Antal’s side.
“Fionamara,” he hissed back.
“You can’t make me promise that.”
“Hush.”
“Let’s be off, then.” Avroz was the first to leave.
Ixli spared one more molten glare, then she vanished.
Fionamara held out her hand. Antal sent a plea to the Void before grasping it, pulling them both into a teleport.
The aedari scent in his territory on the Winter Plane had been recent. But one other had been reported since then, here on Summer. Avroz hoped to pick up a fresh trail.
They emerged to a city by the sea.
The sun glared down upon a crescent-shaped harbor, buildings stacked along the cliffs, pale roofs to diffuse the heat. They stood at the pinnacle, the patio of a grand government building in cream stone, tiles of blue and white around the arched entryway.
A human met them. He bowed, eyes downcast, gesturing them to follow without a word.
They crossed a courtyard, then a sunlit antechamber. The halls were wide, bright, meant for bustling foot traffic. All empty as a tomb. Not a single other human appeared in their path, and why would they? A pack of three daeyari, enough to send any sensible prey hiding.
Just as the people of Thomaskweld had once acted in Antal’s presence. The stark contrast made him grind his teeth. Beside him, Fionamara’s mouth went equally tight. She flashed him a quick, perceptive look he didn’t dare reply to.
Their guide paused outside a door, gesturing the visitors inside. Avroz crossed the threshold without a sideways glance. Then Ixli.
When Fionamara stepped forward, the other human held out a hand.
“Apologies,” he said in seasonspeak. “The Lord Daeyari has asked for no humans in his meeting chamber.”
Antal’s tail flicked. “She comes with me.”
The man’s flinch was painful—so visceral, Antal wondered if he’d ever spoken to a daeyari before.
Or perhaps the flinch was because he had.
Antal wished no harm, but all his bold stance over bringing Fionamara along, only to be denied at the door?
He risked a glance at Avroz. His father knew some seasonspeak, enough to make his spies useful.
Avroz watched from the threshold. Expression unreadable.
“It’s fine,” Fionamara said. “I’ll wait out here.”
She spoke light, unbelligerent.
Suspiciously so.
Antal narrowed his eyes. “Fionamara, there’s no need to—”
“It’s fine. Go.” She made a shooing gesture.
Antal weighed her firm stance, the gleam of her eyes. Good things rarely happened when he left this woman alone.
With two daeyari at his back, he couldn’t risk arguing. He passed her an entreating look, begging that she not find any trouble in his absence.
Fionamara’s brow quirked in reply.
Antal let his tail brush her ankle as he turned, following his father and Ixli into their meeting with this territory’s Lord Daeyari.