44 Unforgiveable #2
“But you won’t tell anyone, will you?” Avroz countered in a spine-chilling low, his tail unnervingly still. “Who would believe your accusations, when you’re nothing? You have nothing to your name, except what I’ve built for you.”
The words strangled Antal like thorns. He retreated a step—but Avroz snared claws into Antal’s collar, pulling their faces too close.
“You have the audacity to threaten me?” his father hissed through bared fangs. “You should be thanking me, for the sacrifices I’ve made on your behalf.”
Everything stung. Every word carved at a deep, wounded part of Antal he’d tried so hard to heal, still raw the moment Avroz bared his claws. Did his father think so little of him, that he truly believed such extreme measures necessary to make Antal succeed?
But what could Antal do? Avroz had power, reputation, centuries of service to the ruling council of their race. Antal was nothing more than a banished son. Not a sliver of proof to support any accusations, beyond…
Antal’s eyes flicked to Avroz’s broken antler.
His father’s claws tightened on his collar.
“Is that the evidence you were hoping for?” Avroz taunted. “Why you went back to that place? Too slow, Antal. The aedari took it already. I checked weeks ago. A shame that you can’t ask them what they did with it.”
Antal fought to hide his alarm. Avroz didn’t know the aedari had laid a trap, returned the antler? Maybe there was some truth in Fionamara’s claim to his father’s overconfidence.
But what did that change?
Just one piece of broken antler. The fragment could have been lost anywhere, in any fashion.
To stand any chance, Antal would need support—Syvr, Ixli, Yme, willing to speak against Avroz as well.
Willing to put themselves in just as much danger.
He tried to calculate the odds, all the fighting he could do, what it might cost…
“Your vavraesa is a bad influence,” Avroz continued, the same warning low. “She makes you rash. You won’t speak with her, until after you’re confirmed to the council.”
Antal bristled. “But—”
“You won’t speak with her. Or I’ll remove her tongue.” Avroz leaned so close, all Antal could smell was hoarfrost. “You decide how this goes, Antal. Play your part, and I’ll let you keep her. Otherwise…”
Avroz glanced to the floor.
It was no coincidence, where they stood. The tiles beneath Antal’s feet—he could smell the blood. A memory of how things ended, when he was foolish enough to fight back.
“And how will the council view your refusal to take live sacrifices, without my support?” Avroz pressed. “I’ll have you removed from that territory as easily as I put you in it. And rest assured, you’ll be replaced by someone who treats their humans properly.”
All the fight drained from Antal with the speed of a sliced jugular. Merciless Void, it was so much harder to fight. Too much to lose. That was how Avroz stayed so calm, denied nothing.
He knew he was untouchable.
When Antal’s tail slumped to the floor, a triumphant grin tugged Avroz’s mouth.
“Good.” He released Antal’s collar. “The meeting is in two days. I’ll retrieve the aedari’s body, make the necessary preparations. You’ll stay here until then. You won’t speak to anyone.”
Antal said nothing. Only stared at the floor.
He flinched when Avroz ran tender claws through his hair. Bile in his stomach. The memory of a slap on his cheek.
“I’m being very generous, Antal,” his father said, soft as he’d ever been. “You can have everything you wanted. Just do your part.”
When Avroz vanished in a snap, Antal sank to his knees upon the tile.
It was cold, this stone. As cold as it had been when Antal had sprawled on the sills as a child, letting garden moths land on his antlers. As cold as it had been when Avroz had shoved him down in submission, Razik’s blood in his nose. That moment, unforgiveable.
A series of moments. All unforgiveable. Antal, forced to follow his family legacy. Razik, dead on the floor. Now, their entire Plane endangered by aedari.
All selfish. All so Avroz could get what he wanted.
Was this what Antal had to be, to get what he wanted? Compliant? Selfish? He could save everything he held dear—Fionamara, Thomaskweld—if he bowed his head this final time. Resignation sank to his core, colder than ever.
Soft footsteps crossed the tile.
Yme stood in the hallway, a wraith amidst shadows. Her dark hair hung loose and unbraided around her antlers. For a long moment, she and Antal stared at each another.
“You knew,” he said, low with accusation—with how deep the betrayal cut.
He didn’t need her answer. She’d always known what Avroz was doing, yet she’d never dared intervene.
Yme stared at the floor. “I wanted to protect you.”
Antal laughed, quick and biting in the silent house.
“You didn’t,” he said.
Then he slunk away into his room, to await his father’s call like a good, obedient son.
The space was emptier than before. The sweet of jasmine, nauseating.
Antal rummaged through an old desk for paper. A pen.
His hand shook as he wrote the letter. But he had to. For her sake, and his. If he chose the words carefully, he could beg his father to send it, have Syvr deliver it to her.
Fionamara.
I’m fine. Everything will be fine.
Please, stay on the Winter Plane until I return.
Please, don’t do anything reckless.