Page 51 of Voidwalker (Beasts of the Void #1)

This was supposed to be fun

“That’s a dozen energy crossbows,” Kashvi reported, reading off a color-coded clipboard. “Half as many sword hilts. Plenty of metal to make more. Good start toward a rebellion, I’d say.”

She wore a rare smile, dark hair drawn into a tail and eyes glinting mischief.

Another late night saw the tavern empty, the copper light fixtures dimmed, Iliha gone to bed a half hour ago in preparation for morning baking.

Boden had brought a crate of aurorabeast steaks for barter.

In exchange, Kashvi set out three cups of hot mulled wine and a plate of butter cookies.

Fi wrapped her hands around the ceramic, grateful for warmth as the energy capsule in Kashvi’s furnace burned low for the night.

Boden accepted the drink but kept his attention buried in a notebook, brow pinched, a pair of the dorkiest reading glasses in the Planeverse perched low on his nose.

After Fi’s escape from Astrid then swift retrieval of the metal coils from the train, Boden had spent the following days cataloguing supplies for the weapon smiths.

“More than a good start,” he agreed. “We have Fi to thank.”

“So we do.” Kashvi pulled up a chair and slid her cup closer, a soft scrape against the brass tabletop. “You come through when you need to, smuggler.”

She spoke the tease with a tip of her cup. Fi stuck out her tongue and joined her in a drink. The wine went down hot, a burn in her belly and a pleasant medley of spices coating her tongue.

Boden flipped the page of his notebook, callused fingers skimming over neat handwriting. Drink untouched. “We’ve had ten volunteers for combat. A few more on the fence. I won’t force anyone, but I’ll check in over the next few days, see if I can convince some more.”

Supplies. Weapons. People. He’d talked of little else, drawing the shadows beneath his eyes deeper than their usual unhealthy shade.

“Bodie,” Fi chastised. “Put that work away. It’s late.”

“Listen to your sister,” Kashvi agreed.

The rare dual assault? Mayor Boden didn’t stand a chance.

“We don’t know how much time we have,” he said.

“Ten conscripts,” Kashvi said. “On top of the three of us. You’ll easily have five more once they see those gorgeous weapons Yvette’s made.

We’ll have enough crossbows to put in everyone’s hands.

Mal has shelter and supplies lined up for any who don’t want to fight.

The rest, we work on tomorrow.” She held up a toast. “Drink. Now .”

Fi liked Kashvi when she didn’t have a stick up her ass.

Even worry-walrus Boden broke a grin. “Nice to see you in a good mood.”

“Nice to be working toward something worthwhile.” Kashvi swirled her cup, distorting the curls of steam. “And this… partnership with the daeyari is going better than expected.”

Fi would toast to that improvement in temper, however grudgingly Kashvi spoke the words. The three of them clinked cups then drank, the tavern silent apart from a groan of wind over the roof. Then, a sigh from Boden. He tilted his cup, studying the dark liquid.

“When we were little,” he said, “Dad took us every year to visit the Nightglade Winery. Went on the haunted cart ride. Begged the winemaker for drinks. You remember that, Fi?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Fi studied her cup, voice low. “I remember.”

She’d seen her first Void horse at that winery, dressed in strips of gauze like a phantom to spook visitors. Everyone else was enraptured by the animal’s ghostly silver scales. Fi couldn’t look away from its sightless eyes and black sclera—Void-touched. Like her.

“The owner gave us little shot glasses full of sparkling grape juice.” Boden laughed. “We pretended they were wine. Swirled and toasted with our pinkies out.”

By all the Shattered Planes, what a memory. “An excellent vintage.” Fi held up her cup, adopting the pompous appraiser’s tone they’d played at during their childhood antics.

Boden sniffed his wine with a snobbish nose scrunch. “Hints of bird nest and old moss.”

Fi laughed. “Yeah, then Astrid would…”

Silence fell. Fi met Boden’s pained stare, this hollowed haunt they carried between them, a fond memory they should have been sharing with one more old friend at their table.

“Astrid would steal the real thing for us,” Boden said. His finality wasn’t just the end of the story. It was the end of the childhood they’d shared, ripped apart a decade ago and tossed to different corners of the territories.

Fi caught herself grasping at the scraps.

Astrid’s betrayal lived like a hot coal in her stomach, wrapped up in burning memories and burning lips that didn’t easily extinguish.

It was Fi’s fault Astrid became an Arbiter.

It was Astrid’s fault Fi had nearly died in that explosion in Thomaskweld.

Both of them striking blows they could never take back.

And yet… Astrid had hesitated on the train. She’d had a blade against Fi’s throat, vengeance in her eyes, but refused to go for the lethal strike. Fi had still hurt to see Astrid in danger, even when they’d fallen too far apart to repair.

A mess. It was all just a mess in Fi’s head.

Boden lifted his cup. “To old memories.”

Kashvi joined. “To a successful heist.”

“If we’re doing that,” Fi complained, “Antal ought to be here.”

Kashvi puckered as if she’d downed a shot of lemon juice.

That exact look was the reason Antal had opted not to join the gathering inside, followed by the guilt-inducing qualifier that he’d wait nearby in case Fi needed him.

He could bear the cold better than a human.

He shouldn’t have to. She hated the idea of him waiting alone outside while she celebrated the heist he’d helped orchestrate.

“Fi,” Kashvi warned.

“You could give him a chance.”

“He doesn’t deserve a chance.”

On Fi’s other side, Boden shot a discouraging look. Drop it , his weary eyes pleaded. Kashvi was in a rare good mood.

“You don’t have to like him,” Fi said, heeding neither of them. “But Antal helped us get metal for weapons. He repaired most of the village’s conduits. He’s held up his end of the deal.”

“So he can get his territory back,” Kashvi said.

“He cares about more than that.”

“You think you know what he wants? An immortal who’s ruled this territory longer than you’ve been alive? Who’s been eating people since before our great grandparents were alive?”

The things Kashvi claimed might be true, but Antal was more than that.

He laughed at Fi’s taunts and got that annoyed twitch to his tail when she pushed the upper hand.

He closed his eyes when music played to let the melody carry him away.

He insisted on sleeping in her rafters out of stubbornness alone, she was fairly certain. All such normal things.

And when he said he wanted to make things better—that he wanted to be better—Fi wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe there’d be a brighter end to this than returning to the way things were before.

“We want things to change,” Fi said. “So does he.”

“Why would he?” Kashvi shot back. “He was the one in power. He could have stopped taking sacrifices before now, regardless of what he claims about ‘rules’ for daeyari.”

Also true. Void have mercy, Kashvi could be stubborn.

“He has to eat something,” Fi said.

“My sister .” Kashvi slammed her cup. “How would you feel if it was Boden?”

Fi stiffened. Across the table, Boden monitored their spat in silence, but Kashvi’s low blow earned her a scowl of disapproval.

What would Fi do if she never got to make fun of that furrowed brow again?

Never got to hear that laugh that had grown from a nasal wheeze to a deep-chested bellow, as familiar as wind through the shiverpines?

“I’m not saying what Antal did was right,” Fi said.

“What, then?” Kashvi pressed.

Fi assembled her arguments: they needed to move on, they needed allies, they needed Kashvi to not be so Void-damned stubborn.

But none of that was enough, was it? Deflecting, pretending Kashvi’s hurt wasn’t there, would only make it fester. Just like with Astrid. Amends never made, allowed to grow into this fetid wound between them. Running was easier. Arguing was easier.

Here was a place to start moving forward. One simple enough for Fi to stomach.

“I’d be angry,” Fi agreed. “If I were in your place, I’d hate Antal and all his kind.

You’re right to feel that way, Kashvi.” She leaned forward, resisting the jab at Kashvi’s stunned look, keeping her voice level.

“But what are we going to do about it? You could scream at him, put a bolt through his head, and we’d still be exactly where we were before.

Or . We can tell him he was wrong, make him do something about it. Stop other sisters from being lost.”

Kashvi didn’t answer right away. The purse of her lips suggested Fi had finally said something right.

Boden’s smug-ass grin, maybe she could live without.

“Listen to this,” he said. “Fi’s sounding like a diplomat at last.”

Fi scoffed through a chug of wine. “I’m no diplomat. I just think we ought to treat our immortal partner more like a partner, less like a stray dog left outside.”

“Sounds diplomatic to me,” Boden said. “My little Fi-Fi, finally growing up.”

Fi looked for something to throw at him, but tragically, she found nothing within reach except her wine and her cookies. Neither was worth sacrificing.

Kashvi slumped in her chair.

“Come on, Kashvi,” Fi said. “What’s the worst that could happen? Antal proves you right, and you get to rub it in my face?” She would. Fi had no doubt of that.

Kashvi grumbled, “You’re rubbing off on her, Boden.” She leveled a finger at Fi. “He can come in. So long as he behaves himself.”

Maybe there was hope for Kashvi yet. Or maybe Fi’s stubborn tick act had reached a new level of success. Nodding seemed the safest response, though Fi doubted Kashvi knew what behaving himself meant for Antal.

He’d better behave himself, after all the nice things she’d said about him.