Page 83 of Voidwalker (Beasts of the Void #1)

The rubble of the Thomaskweld capitol building was more impressive than Fi remembered. Not that she’d seen the aftermath before now, her previous priorities centered on fleeing for her life, escaping a Beast, then getting knocked unconscious by a pair of traitors.

Antal stood beside her in the chill morning, inspecting the carnage with a dry arc to his brow. Half the building remained intact. The rest, a mess of stone and glass. His tail flicked.

“How many energy capsules did you smuggle in here?”

“I didn’t count them, Antal.” She crossed her arms, bundled in a new coat of maroon wool with a fox fur ruff.

He let out a long-suffering sigh. In the week following Verne’s defeat, they’d both found little sleep, busy surveying the damage in Thomaskweld. The usurper had left the capitol building in ruin. She’d made no repairs of sabotaged energy conduits, coercion against rebellious citizens.

No more. The people of this territory would have what they needed, at no cost of blood.

“Do you know what I think?” Fi said.

“Oh. Let’s hear it.”

“I think you never planned to eat me after all.”

Antal’s brow slipped higher. “Is that so?”

“ I think”—she leaned into him—“your devious plan was to rid yourself of Fionamara Kolbeck, dreaded smuggler, bane of your territory.”

“A terror.”

“To save your economy, you had to tame me.”

Antal’s arm wrapped her waist. His jaw clenched, a blatant attempt not to laugh. “A clever theory. With one glaring issue.”

“That being?”

Fi stilled as his mouth brushed hers. “Why would I want to tame you? I prefer you wild.”

Behind them, Kashvi cleared her throat.

The dawn glinted lavender across the inky crop of her hair, the double line of silver buttons down her midnight jacket. Her lips pursed, unamused. Doubly so at Fi’s syrupy grin.

“Good morning, Kashvi,” Fi said in a goading lilt. “Or should I say: esteemed Governor.”

Kashvi brandished a clipboard, looking as though she’d relish putting her pen through either of their eyes. “ Interim governor. You have me until there’s a proper election. Void knows how much of this mess we can clean up before then.”

She grumbled and flipped through her paperwork.

Immaculate paperwork, every note color coded and organized in tidy columns.

After Boden, Kashvi had been the beating heart of Nyskya.

Trustworthy. Determined. An obvious choice to help get the territory back on its feet.

And as much as she liked to complain, she’d taken the position with minimal arm twisting.

Perhaps Fi wasn’t the only one who’d grown restless in their quiet village.

Perhaps it was Iliha’s doing, eyeing empty storefronts along Thomaskweld’s main avenue.

Or perhaps they both realized they could do more than keep Nyskya safe, by making all of the territory just as much of a haven.

When Kashvi had accepted Antal’s offer, he’d asked if this meant a clean start between them. She’d told him it would give her time to think about it—which wasn’t a no .

“Latest reports on energy conduits are in my office,” Kashvi said. “Let’s go.”

She led them into the intact wing of the capitol.

They crossed over marble tiles and under ceilings painted in starlight and aurora, halls quiet thanks to a skeleton staff.

Those humans who did cross paths with their returned Lord Daeyari swerved out of his way.

Trust would take time, but Fi had faith it would come. He’d won her over.

The previous governor’s office had become rubble during the explosion. Kashvi brought them to a repurposed meeting room with tall windows overlooking the capitol plaza, a long table of polished pine hidden beneath stacks of paperwork.

“Mail for you on the table,” Kashvi said. “Get rid of it, I’m low on space.” She disappeared into an adjoining room, followed by a rustle of papers.

Antal inspected a stack of three letters, distinct from government paperwork in their thick texture and wax seals, sitting against a bottle of… wine? The liquid inside was dark, oddly streaked with silver that swirled even as it sat still.

Fi, too curious to not look and not reserved enough to feign disinterest, peered over Antal’s shoulder as he popped open the first seal.

“Letters from my daeyari neighbors,” he explained, sounding profoundly unenthused. “Proper etiquette, during any shift in power… oh good, this one’s from Tyvo.”

The sharp text was inked in daeyari. Antal had peppered Fi with language lessons all week—mostly greetings, curses, and “your ass looks magnificent when you bend over like that”—not enough to decipher a letter. Other than the curses, of course.

Antal read. Scowled. “Tyvo says if I set foot in his territory again, he’ll stake my head on top of a shiverpine.”

“Just with a lot more fucks than that?” Fi said, noting the familiar words.

“ A lot more fucks than that. Hardly unexpected.” He tossed the letter to the trash bin and reached for the next.

“Ah.” He hummed, eyes darting over the page; no curses, this one. “From Kyl, Verne’s eastern neighbor. Well wishes on my return… her support as we review candidates to replace Verne… at least we won’t have a territory war.” He discarded the letter and picked up the last, tied to the wine bottle.

Antal went so still, Fi nearly waved a hand in front of his face to check for consciousness.

The envelope was thick gray paper, Antal’s name written in a swooping yet ruthless script. His tail gave a violent flick. He flipped it, revealing a seal of midnight blue wax. An imprint of a dahlia, same as the carving on the base of his antlers.

“Fuck,” Fi said. “Antal… is that…”

He opened it with a slice of claw.

The letter was brief. Shortest of the three, two succinct sentences in glistening midnight ink. Then a name: Avroz.

Antal had never spoken his father’s name to her.

“What does it say?” Fi asked.

He read it several times, eyes flicking across the page. At last, he ripped the paper in two and tossed the scraps in the trash.

“Antal,” Fi said, firmer. “What does he want—”

“ Well done on not dying ,” he recited stiffly. “ Leaving her alive would have been preferable .”

Fi blinked. “Void… what an asshole .”

Antal hummed in agreement and picked up the wine, a swirl sending the contents spinning like a bottled blizzard. He seemed more annoyed than worried, an act he’d had two and a half centuries to hone.

His father was watching. Verne had warned that the Daey Celva—the Dusk Council —wouldn’t be pleased with any changes in policy.

“Daeyari wine?” Fi asked. “Is it any good?”

“It would possibly kill you.” Antal dropped the gift in the trash with a resolute thunk .

Fi agreed. A problem for another day, once their city was restored.

Kashvi returned, another binder in hand.

“Here are all the reports of faulty energy conduits within the city. So far .” Kashvi thrust the binder at Antal. “Most urgent is the South River District. Replacement parts should arrive this morning, if our humble Lord Daeyari would be so kind as to help install them.”

Antal scowled at her condescending tone. Fi snickered.

They left the capitol, crossing the complex through stone plazas and gardens glittering with frost. A quiet morning.

As the sun crested the valley, slanted rays caught on the plated copper and glass of the trade warden offices, on the green and silver dome of the courthouse.

Then, the red stone of the perimeter wall.

The gates stood open, a path to the waking city.

At times, Fi had viewed Thomaskweld as a hostile place: the metal constructs and tight avenues, hustlers in smoky pubs looking to make lopsided deals. To say nothing of the capitol stuffed with law enforcement. The lurking eyes of an immortal with teeth.

Other times, Thomaskweld brimmed with possibility. There were walks down riverside parkways lit with energy conduits. Music and dancing in cellar bars. The aurora reflected in windows of dark glass.

Today, she found a new perspective. In that maze of streets lay more than hostility. More than entertainment. Here was a new home, a chance to build something larger than her.

A pair of guards flanked the gate, dressed in midnight uniforms. They nodded to Kashvi, pursed their brows at Fi, avoided eye contact with Antal. He’d dressed casual, abandoning his embroidered finery in favor of rolled sleeves and loose buttons at his collar.

Most likely, even Antal’s capitol guards weren’t used to seeing him in person. Fi had never heard of a daeyari walking his streets like a lowly human.

Outside the gate, Antal paused.

“What’s the hold-up?” Kashvi shouted several paces ahead. “We’ve got limited daylight and it’s burning fast!”

Fi moved to Antal’s side. He studied the city beyond the wall, sharp eyes slipping over the manicured avenue and dormant streetlamps, the clack of a distant trolley. A murmur of voices sounded ahead, stores opening and smells of coffee wafting from the cafes.

“Teleporting to the energy factory would be faster,” Antal muttered.

Fi braced fists on her hips. “Someone once told me walking is a sign of respect among daeyari. And it’s a lovely morning.”

His tail curled an anxious arc. “What if this doesn’t work, Fionamara?”

She knew that tremor in his words. What chance did they stand of weaving this change they’d envisioned? Would the humans of this territory ever trust a daeyari after being culled as food for so long? Would another challenger come to crush their new order?

But Fi had vowed to not let fear rule her any longer.

“You want to stop hiding from your own people?” she said. “To walk the streets of your city without them looking at you like a monster? This is how we start.”

“And what if I can’t do what I’ve promised you?”

Fi pictured him alone in his cliffside abode, sprawled across pillows as he watched his city glisten far below. She pictured herself returning to an empty cottage, only music to keep her company.

As Antal had done for her so many times, Fi offered her hand.

“If we fail, we’ll do it together,” she said. “But I’d wager both of us are too stubborn for that, Lord Antal .”

He begrudged her a grin. “You’re certainly too stubborn, Voidwalker.”

“Sometime today!” Kashvi shouted.

Fi clenched her teeth. “Also. I need you to be the responsible one. Otherwise, I’m going to hurl that woman into the river.”

“You’ve already cost me one governor, Fionamara. Let me get some use out of this one.”

Antal took her hand. No more hiding. Whatever lay ahead, they’d meet it with claws.

His.

And hers.