47 Void-woven, and everyone’s problem
Fi emerged from the black of a teleport into… more black. She squinted at the outline of a stone chamber, too dark to see with her normal eye, grayscale shapes with her new one.
“This is what it’s like for you all the time?” she whispered.
“The better question,” Syvr said, “is how you humans have survived this long without dark vision? You just stumble into objects and hope for the best?”
Fi huffed and pulled her cloak around her, hood drawn over her head. The fabric smelled like silviamesh and metal—borrowed from Ixli, to mask Fi’s human scent.
Because no mortals were allowed in the halls of the Dusk Council.
Ixli lurked beside her, lethally silent, eyes molten in the dark.
When Fi had laid out Avroz’s schemes, Syvr had listened quietly, dissecting every word.
Ixli had snarled like a rabid wolverine.
Incredible that Syvr hadn’t lost a hand, after a solid hour holding Ixli’s wrist, discouraging her from teleporting straight to Avroz before they had a plan.
Now, the day of the nomination meeting had arrived, and Fi was ready to become a nuisance.
Avroz had kept an iron claw on his home.
No celebrations, no invitations to Syvr or Ixli, insisting that Antal needed solitude to prepare—keeping him isolated.
Sneaking a visit was out of the question, as Avroz would smell the traces of an intruder.
And Antal was going along with it. Stay on the Winter Plane, he’d begged Fi in the letter Syvr had passed to her. Antal’s shaking script had made her want to punch a hole in a wall.
They hadn’t had a chance to share their plan with him.
Antal was with his father, alone. Heading into that meeting, alone.
“How many daeyari will be here?” Fi asked.
“Twenty council members,” Ixli said with militant focus. “A couple dozen guards on the main floor, though they keep out of sight. At least several hundred in the gallery.”
Fi hummed at the prospect of being surrounded by several hundred creatures who could eat her. Daunting, but not insurmountable.
Ixli growled in agreement.
“Which is why we’re sneaking in, not fighting,” Syvr said, exasperated. “Veshri help me, letting you two stand next to each other is like adding wind to a wildfire.”
Syvr moved quietly down the corridor, peering around a corner. Somewhere deep in the mountain, they’d explained, avoiding the main paths to the Dusk Council gallery.
“Do I want to know why Syvr’s so good at sneaking into here unnoticed?” Fi asked.
“Probably not,” Ixli muttered.
“You both wound me with your insinuations,” Syvr complained. “It’s clear, let’s go.”
The hallway was unlit, carved straight out of the stone. They passed a branching path, a drift of voices still far off. Fi’s cloak would mask her smell at a distance, but not if any daeyari got close.
They just had to get to Antal. Give him what he needed to face Avroz, the moment the bastard least expected it.
“Walk quietly,” Ixli hissed.
Fi, who was walking damn near silently, despite the awkward cloak and only one functional eye, scowled. “I am walking quietly.”
“Why are your feet making so much noise?”
“They are not!”
“Will both of you stop acting so suspicious?” Syvr said ahead of them. “No one comes this way. We’ll be fine.”
Fi held up a middle finger. They snickered.
“I don’t want to get caught down here, Syvr,” Ixli said with more fangs.
“You don’t want to get caught?” Fi said. “What will they do if they catch me?”
“Best case scenario,” Syvr said, “probably eat you.”
“Best case?”
“Don’t worry. We won’t let anyone—”
Both daeyari froze. Tensed. Never a good sign.
Fi was ashamed to say she probably wouldn’t have noticed on her own. The figure approached on silent footsteps, a shadow almost indistinguishable in the dark. Squinting, she made out the silhouette of a tail. Antlers.
A glow of red irises.
Fi bit back a curse and slunk behind her two daeyari distractions.
“Good afternoon, Syvr,” came a clipped voice.
The daeyari was old. Fi saw better as she drew closer, her face honed like a knife edge, shawls glittering off her shoulders like stardust. Her skin was ebony, seven-pointed antlers glinting with silver baubles—and golden bands. Another Sunsplitter.
“Councilor Qirza!” Syvr greeted, magnanimous as ever, no enthusiasm lost for being caught in a sketchy-ass tunnel. They bowed and touched their highest antler tip. “A pleasure.”
Fi rapidly assessed the threat. A member of the Dusk Council. And based on Syvr’s kiss-ass tone? Someone important.
“We were on our way to the gallery,” Syvr went on. “Please, don’t let us delay you, esteemed speaker. The meeting must be starting soon—”
The daeyari, Qirza, held up a commanding claw. Syvr silenced.
“Enough pageantry, Syvr,” she said, not unkind. Definitely firm.
“Of course, councilor. My apologies…”
Fi updated her assessment. Based on Syvr’s submissive tail flick, someone very important. Ixli dropped her eyes, penitent as a child caught out after bedtime.
“An unusual route to the gallery,” Qirza observed, tail swishing slowly. “I expected to see you in the reception room, Syvr. And Ixli. And…”
Keen red eyes settled on the unknown visitor. Fi shrank into her hood, letting the brim mask her face. As if that did any good. Qirza’s nose flared for a sniff.
She stiffened.
No, this couldn’t be over already. Antal couldn’t face this alone.
“And for what reason,” Qirza said, “are you sneaking a human into my chambers?”
Fi should have doused herself in garlic. Tied twigs to her head. The tail was harder—
“This is… an assistant,” Ixli claimed. “Come to take notes on the meeting.”
It was an awful lie, Ixli’s stiff delivery even worse. Fi felt disappointment radiate off Syvr like a gas leak.
Qirza’s expression tightened. Fi touched cool metal in her pocket, the box masking any scent of Avroz’s antler.
She could toss their plan. Could thrust the antler at this councilor and make their case.
In their scheming, they’d debated a more direct approach, going straight to the Dusk Council.
But as much as Fi hated Avroz, as much as she wanted to tear that piece-of-shit daeyari apart with her bare hands…
This had to be Antal’s decision.
Avroz was his father. Fi couldn’t make Antal confront him before he was ready, couldn’t force him to live with those consequences. She couldn’t take that agency away.
So they had to get to the meeting.
“Our sincerest apologies,” Syvr said. “We didn’t realize this would be a problem.”
Qirza’s arched brow dripped skepticism.
“We’ll see her removed right away,” Syvr continued, disarming with a grin. “If you’ll excuse us, councilor—”
“Syvr,” Qirza said.
Syvr stilled with a hand on Fi’s arm.
“Mortals aren’t permitted here,” Qirza said. “You know that.” A scowl to Ixli. “You both do. So why did you bring her?”
Fi had hardly twitched toward her sword hilt before Syvr grabbed her wrist. Shrewd daeyari had learned too fast from Antal. Fi didn’t want to fight, but if she had to—
“She’s Antal’s partner, Councilor Qirza.”
Ixli spoke softer than Fi had thought her capable of. Entreating, to an immortal centuries older than her. Qirza’s eyes narrowed on Fi.
“Partner?” the councilor said slowly.
“Yes, his partner,” Syvr said, latching onto the new tactic. “Of course, the laws of the Dusk Council are paramount. But perhaps our esteemed and generous speaker could make one small exception? Just to watch the nomination today. Considering she’s his—”
“Fiancée,” Fi said.
The three daeyari fell silent. Three tail flicks.
She didn’t care. They had no time to waste. She’d promised Antal they’d do this together.
Fi threw back her hood.
“I’m Antal’s fiancée,” she said. “And entry to the Dusk Council is only permitted to those with immortal, Void-woven flesh? Well, I have immortal, Void-woven flesh. Here!”
She pointed to her eye.
The silence in the hall was smothering. Glowing red irises encircled her. Fi envisioned her own silver eye blazing just as fiercely.
“And here!” She yanked up her shirt, revealing Void-ether slashes across her stomach.
Syvr and Ixli fell still as the grave. Their eyes flicked back to Qirza.
The councilor stood with the gravity of a mountain face, her tail a menacing arc. Her hum, low in contemplation. She scoured Fi like iron wool, taking in the ether, the eye.
Then, a slow tilt of her head, more intrigued than predatory.
“Fascinating,” she said.