46 One More Time
The day of the nomination meeting, Avroz summoned Antal to the sitting room.
Antal dressed like he was supposed to, dignified layers of dark blue and shimmering vesper fabric.
He adorned his antlers like he was supposed to, subtle silver tips that didn’t overpower the golden rings.
He accepted Avroz’s gift like he was supposed to, another metal box with an aedari head retrieved from the Winter Plane.
Most importantly, he kept his mouth shut. Like he was supposed to.
For his obedience, Avroz had agreed to send Antal’s letter to Fionamara.
To Antal’s relief, she’d heeded his plea, hadn’t stormed the house with sword in hand.
No one had come. Just like last time, Avroz had spun some story to keep Syvr and Ixli away, while Antal “prepared for the meeting.” Just like last time, they’d obeyed his father.
Antal had been tempted to slip away at night. Just to see her. Just to smell her hair and feel her warmth against him. Even that, he hadn’t dared, unwilling to pay the cost if Avroz discovered any rebellion.
At least this would be over soon.
“Mind your manners.” Avroz dressed in robes of midnight and silver, wielding his haughty tone. “Accept the nomination, speak when you must. I’ll handle the rest. As usual.”
Antal forced a nod, eyes on the floor. One more day of this. Then their deal would be finished. With his legacy secured, Avroz could depart on his Pilgrimage. Antal could return to the Winter Plane, back to the life he’d built.
The halls of the Daey Celva passed in a blur.
Avroz led the way, Antal trailing like a shadow, the dutiful son his father had always wanted. Long ago, he’d been proud to follow in these footsteps. Now, he could only think of the weight of the metal box in his hands, how much he didn’t want to be here.
That wasn’t entirely true. He’d warmed to the prospect of joining the Daey Celva, had indulged that alluring hope of fighting for change across multiple worlds. This felt less noble, nominated on the back of a lie. One that the humans of his territory had paid for with their lives.
He’d promised to keep his people safe. That he’d defend them against other daeyari. That there’d be no more living sacrifices. Did that make Antal a liar, now?
They arrived early. Antal and Avroz sat in the reception room, the lighting soft, the smell of coffee lulling. Antal stared at the box in his lap, tail flicking. He couldn’t stop that. All his restraint was devoted to not ripping his claws through the cushions.
Beside him, Avroz sighed.
His father’s tail wound with his, and Antal flinched. The softness of the gesture made him sick, made him want to retreat to the corner like a snarling animal.
Nothing broke his facade, aside from a shaky exhale.
“You’ve done well,” Avroz said. “And in the end? You’ll get everything you bargained for. A good deal. One where we both win.”
The words were soft. Fangless. That was how Antal spotted the lie. Avroz only used kindness when he wanted something.
The sting of a slap felt fresh on Antal’s cheek—sharper, when Avroz brushed an affectionate hand through his son’s hair. Antal flinched at that, too, pulling away with teeth bared. Avroz’s mouth settled into a firm line.
Antal could give in, like he always had. He could accept his father’s affection, grovel for the rare praise.
No. They were too far past that, now.
Avroz was called away as the meeting began. Alone, Antal considered the weight of the box in his hands, the weight of the secret in his chest. He could do this one more time. He could play his part, get what he needed.
But he couldn’t tell himself what Avroz had done was acceptable. He couldn’t tell himself what Avroz had done to him was acceptable. He could never lose sight of that again.
Antal’s name was called.
He breathed deep and settled into his mask. One more time.