Excerpt: Sunsplitter
by S. A. MacLean

Sunsplitter is the epic conclusion to S. A. Maclean’s spicy monster romance duology, in which a cross-dimensional smuggler and her immortal partner must defend their home from dangerous beasts.

Sunsplitter is on sale August 4th! Read the first two chapters below.

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The Beast That Bled Gold

He’d never heard the forest this silent.

The Winter Plane was always quiet, muffled by eternal snow and trees as dense as tar, but tonight, even the jays in the canopy fell still. Nothing but the creak of his cart and horse hooves churning sleet, the occasional thump of ice drooping off shiverpine branches, the whisper of aurora overhead.

He felt foolish, when he gripped his reins tighter. This was the type of night he’d heard of in the old folktales, a silent forest and an unsuspecting human traveler, doomed to spot red eyes among the branches. News from the territory capital claimed their Lord Daeyari was kinder now, no longer feasting on live sacrifices. Still, the man sat tense on the cart bench, peering into dark trees. He found no beasts lurking in the boughs.

Only a woman standing by the road, hunched against the cold in calf deep snow.

He reined in his horse, pausing his cart alongside her.

‘Evening, miss. You alright out here?’

The woman smiled. She was tall, her skin warm brown, features soft around dark eyes. He was surprised when she reached for him, an entreating squeeze at his wrist. Her fingers were warm against the night chill.

‘I’m traveling,’ she said. ‘Hoping to rest for the night. Do you live nearby?’

Her words sounded strange. Some accent he couldn’t place.

He shrugged and beckoned to the seat beside him on the cart. It was only him and his sister at the mill. They had a bed to spare, and hospitality went a long way on Winter.

The ride passed in silence. He minded the reins but snuck a glance at his passenger.

She was beautiful.

He chastised the thought, no intentions of ogling a woman stranded in the forest. Maybe peculiar was a safer word to describe her. Black hair fell past her shoulders, laced with snowflakes. Dark lashes veiled over inky eyes. Her jacket seemed too thin for the Winter Plane.

‘Do you travel this way often?’ she asked.

He chastised himself again, caught staring at her lips. They hardly seemed to match her words. His wrist felt warm where she’d touched him.

‘I’m coming back from Runeyska. I sell my furniture at the city market, near the Bridge gate.’ He gestured to the cart, two hand-made wooden stools all that remained of his wares. A profitable visit.

The woman appraised his cargo. ‘Beautiful work. Near the Bridge gate? You sell to merchants from the other Planes?’

‘Of course.’ He laughed. ‘Spring, Summer, Autumn. I’ve sold an army of dining chairs across all four Season-Locked Planes.’ He’d returned with different treasures, a bundle of Spring Plane tulips and Summer Plane nectarines, rarities in Winter, sure to make his sister smile.

‘Any Planes beyond these four?’ the woman asked.

An odd question. The four Season-Locked Planes were unusually close together, well-connected for travel and trade. Beyond these Planes, there were hundreds of other worlds – possibly infinite, some people claimed. A vastness that fuzzed his brain to contemplate.

‘Other Planes are too far off to bother trading here,’ he said.

‘And what of the Twilit Plane?’

He laughed again. ‘Alas, I haven’t sold any chairs to the Twilit Plane.’

‘Why not? Surely, your work is fine enough.’

‘Void take me. No humans do business with the Twilit Plane.’

The first home of the immortal daeyari, before the beasts had spread their territories across other worlds. The Twilit Plane lay close to the Season-Locked Planes, he’d heard. But no one ever said more than that, the route a secret the daeyari kept to themselves. Better, that way. What human would want to visit a Plane with more of those flesh-eating creatures?

‘Hm.’ The woman fell silent, a tightness to her mouth.

The lumber mill sat on a riverbank, a rumble of water welcoming him home, timber walls glinting with copper energy conduits that powered the saws. He settled his horse in the stable, then led the way into the house. The woman followed on whisper-quiet footsteps in the snow.

The kitchen was empty but warm, his sister likely asleep already. He removed his coat.

‘We have a spare bedroom down that hall. You’re welcome to—’

When he turned, the woman stood inches from his face.

He inhaled at the scrutiny of her topaz eyes, level with his. She cupped his jaw. Her touch was warm like sunlight.

‘Thank you,’ she purred. ‘For your generosity.’

‘It’s . . . uh . . . not a problem . . . but . . .’

His words stumbled, cheeks heating as she traced a finger down his throat – pleasant, but confusing. This wasn’t remotely how he’d envisioned his night going.

‘I’m happy to share a bed,’ he said, rougher. ‘Lend a bed, rather. You don’t have to . . . I mean . . . please don’t feel obligated to . . .’

She said nothing. Her mouth parted, tongue tracing her lip. He should tell her to stop.

He didn’t want her to stop.

She was beautiful, her dark lashes low over eyes like warm honey. Had he not noticed the color in the dark? His heart thundered as she leaned closer, unbuttoning the collar of his shirt.

The woman pressed soft lips against his jaw. Hungrier, down the hollow of his throat. A brush of tongue and teeth at his shoulder.

Then, an explosion of pain that split him down the middle.

The force was paralyzing. Heat ripped through his gut. Shards of glass surged through his arms, his legs, threatening to buckle him at the knees. His vision blurred in a flash of silver. Fingers tightened in his hair.

He screamed.

When he hit the floor, the pain stopped. Exhaustion followed, his chest ice-crusted, muscles shaking like they’d been scraped from the inside out.

He barely had the strength to crawl. Some primal instinct screamed away, away, spurring fingernails to claw against floorboards, coaxing weakened limbs to drag him across the kitchen.

He made it outside. Into the snow. Shivers racked him to the core, bone deep and insatiable. His shoulder throbbed – burned, though he couldn’t crane his neck to see the wound. His wrist itched. He clawed at his sleeve, fingers raking flesh as he pulled back flannel.

A strange golden symbol marked his skin, hot and glowing.

Smoke itched his nose.

Someone screamed.

He moaned at the effort of shifting onto his knees, vision spotting. Hold on. He clutched the foreign mark on his wrist and willed himself to hold on to consciousness. What was that light in the windows of his home? That crackling sound?

Fire. Flames spread along the porch, up the eaves. Faster than fire should spread.

Another scream.

His sister’s scream sparked a moment of clarity. And panic. His sister was inside. Their home was burning. He needed to get to her.

Every muscle quaked as he pushed to his feet.

Then, every muscle gave out. He collapsed to the snow.

His breaths shallowed. Black bloomed across his vision as he tried to crawl, to drag himself across the snow. He had to get to her. He had to . . .

A woman stood over him.

She was tall. Dark hair fell past her shoulders, no longer laced with snow, sheened with orange from his burning home. She said nothing. Her expression said nothing, lips drawn to a mild line.

It must have been a trick of the firelight. For a moment, her irises seemed to glow gold.

She reached for him. He screamed again. But he had no strength left to run.

Part 1

I received a package today, for the Lord Daeyari.

In my time as governor, this is only the second such occurrence, a nondescript parcel delivered by a vavriter, that hybrid race so rarely seen in these territories.

‘From the Twilit Plane,’ he told me.

I wouldn’t know where to begin sending a message to the Twilit Plane, couldn’t name a single human who knows the route to the daeyari’s home world. I asked the vavriter if he’d made the journey himself, what it was like.

He said it wasn’t my concern. That if any message must be sent, my Lord Daeyari knows how to do so.

After he left, I wondered – why do the daeyari refuse to teach humans about the Twilit Plane? Why keep the route a secret?

— Journal of Silas Jenper, former governor of Thomaskweld, recovered during restoration of the capitol building

1
New terms and conditions,
same (part time) Void smuggler

Fi

‘Open up, you shit-faced little ice weasel!’ Fi rammed her shoulder against the door.

‘Get fucked, Fi!’ came a muffled protest from the other side.

She had little space to work in the cramped hotel hallway. Hypothetically, it wouldn’t be hard to slice the door hinges off with an energy sword – but no, boring people kept telling her that shouldn’t be her first approach to every problem. A few doors down, an eavesdropper poked a head out at the commotion. A feral grin from Fi sent them fleeing back into their room.

She slammed her palm to the copper door handle. Energy warmed her muscles, the fuel of living tissue. She harnessed a current out of her bicep, Shaping the prickly magic into a silver glow at her fingers, her body’s energy condensed into physical form.

A shove of magic into the lock clicked it open. Fi rammed the door again.

It didn’t budge, blockaded from the inside.

Void smugglers were, without question, the absolute worst. Fi felt reasonably qualified to make that character judgement. Sure, she hadn’t run any illicit goods for a year. And sure, as the new partner of an immortal territory lord, she had a ‘public obligation’ to act ‘respectable’ at least half the time.

That didn’t stop her from cussing into the door jamb.

Inside the room, a window groaned open. Then, the thud of a no-good coward smuggler hauling himself over the sill.

‘Fucker,’ Fi spat.

She sprinted down the hall. Her boots pounded starburst carpet, copper energy conduits glinting geometric patterns up the walls to feed the light fixtures overhead. In the lobby, the owner rose from his desk, a startled look as Fi careened past.

‘Miss Kolbeck? I found the key to the room you were asking about—’

‘No longer needed, thank you.’

She burst out the door, the cold air of the Winter Plane sharp in her lungs, snow-dusted cobblestones underfoot. Salt stained the breeze. Sleek-winged seabirds chanted overhead, circling the harbors of Calvariz, the largest port city in Antal Territory.

Fi whistled.

Her only reply was the cackle of a gull perched on a post.

Not insignificantly perturbed by the empty street, she crossed the avenue and skidded to a halt at the metal railing atop a quay wall, boots digging trenches through shoveled slush. Below, harbor water roiled black and cold.

‘Aisinay!’

Ghostly silver rippled beneath the water. A scaled horse head breached the surface, finned ears raised, milky-blind eyes pointing in Fi’s general direction. Aisinay paddled, remnants of fish scales in her fangs as she snorted a contented nose full of salt water.

Fi ran the mental calculations of how long it would take to get her Void horse out of the water. An added consideration for the logistics of riding said very wet Void horse.

‘Ugh. Never mind! I’ll be back!’

She ran after the fleeing smuggler.

Calvariz sounded like a harbor city, a din of voices from waterside markets and warehouses, the creak of sailing ships roped to piers. It smelled like a harbor city, like fresh fish and fried fish and salt coating old cobblestone. Fi crossed over trolley tracks then banked down a staircase to the main waterfront, aiming to cut off her quarry.

True to her new aspirations of decency, Fi wore respectable clothes today: calf-high leather boots, riding pants in black and maroon. Her coat was Void black, crimson decorating the sleeves, a mix of embroidery and polished stone as bright as blood spatter.

Red as daeyari energy. Fi was still settling into the color, the badge of her new office.

Respectable attire wasn’t made for sprinting after smugglers.

The tailored jacket cramped her arms as she ran, the boots too slick on pavement. Her hair tangled in the ocean breeze, Void-black roots flaring into pastel rainbow.

The vibrant attire made her look like a force to steer clear of, at least. People vacated her path, shrinking into alcoves of clothing shops and heated restaurant patios, though the crowd grew denser as she neared the harborside transit terminal. Fi shoved her way inside. Dark granite tile rumbled beneath footsteps. Bronze struts hoisted a domed-glass ceiling, casting the atrium in strained Winter sunlight.

Fi skipped the line and vaulted over the ticket checkpoint. A trade warden in a dark blue uniform protested, ‘Wait, you can’t—’

‘Official territory business!’ Fi shouted back.

No one else tried to stop her. Shit in the Void, if she’d known claiming to be a territory official was so easy, she’d have had fewer close calls with law enforcement in the past.

Several platforms ran along train tracks, copper-plated signs lit up with Winter Plane destinations of Runeyska, Thomaskweld, Sunip.

On another platform, a line of translucent Curtains hung in the air, thin spots in reality. Curtains were doors to step off this Plane, onto a Shard. Shards were a path to other Planes, smaller fragments of reality, stepping stones between worlds. Since most humans couldn’t see Curtains, stone arches framed each doorway, a city-employed Voidwalker guiding travelers through to the station on the other side, more trains heading to the Planes of Summer, Spring, Autumn.

A dumb, panicking smuggler would flee through one of those public Curtains.

A smart smuggler would slip through the less busy Curtains in the cargo terminal.

The world quieted as Fi rounded a back hallway. She slipped into the shipping warehouse, slowing to survey every aisle, containers of metal and energy capsules exporting out of Winter, imports of Summer Plane melons, Autumn hardwood, fresh Spring alfalfa . . .

A flash of movement alerted her. She tackled the figure slinking along the wall.

‘Void-damned cock-sucking son of bitch—’

The smuggler hit the floor in a flurry of curses. He was lean-built, dark-skinned, beard groomed short and locks tied into a tail. His wool coat had an interior lining of silk-light, steel-tough silviamesh armor. Exquisite quality. Someone was doing well for himself.

He tried, unsuccessfully, to flail free. Fi dragged him into the privacy of the nearest room – an empty customs office, which she found at least mildly ironic. Only once she had him cornered did he finally draw a weapon. A metal dagger hilt flashed in his hand, then a spark of silver, human energy Shaped to form a glowing blade.

Cute.

Fi finally grabbed the sword hilt from her belt. This time, she didn’t draw energy from her own muscles. Her palm closed on a glass capsule in her pocket. The current inside was frigid as the Void, hot as flame, writhing at her touch.

Pulling energy from the storage capsule, Fi Shaped a sword blade onto the hilt. All human energy glowed silver, but her weapon flared crimson – a gift of immortal daeyari magic. The smuggler’s eyes shot wide, his dagger slack. That never got old.

‘Hello, Clarence,’ Fi greeted cheerfully. ‘How have you been?’

‘Fuck off, Kolbeck.’

‘Would you care to sit down?’

‘I’d rather not.’

‘I’d rather you did.’

After an obstinate pause, during which Clarence considered the glowing red blade pointed at his head, he dropped into a chair, a loud ‘hmph’ saying exactly what he thought about it. Well look at that, energy swords did solve some problems. Fi sat as well, legs crossed at the knee. She was even kind enough to extinguish her weapon.

‘It’s been ages, Clarence.’ She grinned, wolfish. ‘What a delight, running into you.’

He studied her with dark, clever eyes. His hairline hid a dent in his temple, an old fracture where a horse had kicked him. He’d only died briefly. Like Fi, when she’d nearly drowned in a river as a child. Brushed by death, returned to life with the ability to see rips between realities.

‘What do you want, Fi?’

He was bluffing. He knew what she wanted. Void smugglers talked like gossiping schoolgirls. Clarence would have heard she’d spent the past year tracking down her former competitors across Antal Territory – the good ones, at least. Ones she could make use of.

He’d only play dumb long enough to hear her terms.

‘I’m here to acknowledge your spectacular achievements in the field of illicit goods transportation,’ Fi said magnanimously. ‘And to offer you a job.’

Clarence, unmoved by her showmanship, stayed deadpan. ‘A job?’

‘Of course you’ve heard, Antal Territory is under new management.’

‘It’s the same daeyari.’

‘With new policies.’

‘Sure.’

‘No more live human sacrifices. More equitable treatment of mortal citizens.’

‘Sure.’

‘To make that happen, we need resources. Manpower. People like you.’

‘People like me?’ He laughed. ‘You’ve lost your Void-damned mind, Kolbeck.’

‘To the contrary, Clarence. I think I’m offering an excellent deal.’

‘A job for a daeyari?’ He leaned forward, arms braced on his knees, voice low. ‘So I can be a sellout like you?’

Fi sat a little stiffer. Her smile never faltered, lips curved in a slash of dark lipstick, poise worn like armor – but damn if he didn’t know how to cut to the point.

‘What ever do you mean, Clarence?’

‘You’re right, we haven’t talked in a while – not since you gave up smuggling to become the Lord Daeyari’s loyal human Arbiter.’

‘My smuggling services are temporarily on hold, thank you.’ Fi held up an irate finger. ‘And I’m not his Arbiter. Well, he did offer me the position. I turned it down. A girl needs standards.’

‘Since when do you have standards?’

‘Hurtful, Clarence.’

Fi’s grin flashed teeth. She, too, could spit farther than she’d trust one of the daeyari’s kiss-ass Arbiters, and she recognized the muddy optics of any human advocating for a beast who’d devoured their kind for centuries. Which meant this negotiation had to establish—

‘I’m no servant to the daeyari,’ Fi said. ‘You won’t be, either. Think of it more like a . . . valued colleague.’

‘Colleague.’ He huffed. ‘Until I get eaten?’

She clicked her tongue. ‘For the past year, the Lord Daeyari only accepts meals who’ve died of other causes. Those who agree to donate their bodies. If you’re interested, I can get you the signup form.’

‘How charitable.’

‘The others I’ve spoken to certainly thought so.’

Clarence would have heard Fi was tracking smugglers. He would have heard how many she’d recruited already. She saw that glint in his eyes, the fight between wary survival instinct, and not wanting to miss a lucrative deal. Fi unbuttoned her coat, crimson stone glinting on her cuffs, and pulled out a piece of cardstock. Her sprint had crinkled the edges.

‘By official decree,’ she read. ‘Antal, Lord Daeyari, grants unhindered entrance to and movement within his territory for . . . hey, look! That’s your name, right there.’ Fi pointed to the Clarence Shale inked at the bottom of the page.

He squinted. Something tangible always shifted the odds. No hollow promises, real ink on paper. Still, Clarence played aloof, idly scratching his beard.

He held out a hand.

‘Let me see that.’

Fi relinquished the page then sat back, watching him scour the words. He rubbed the paper between his fingers. Picked at the edge of the black seal. Yes, Clarence, that was a genuine daeyari seal, wax mixed with immortal blood. She’d always loved this feeling, having the proper cards to play at the proper time.

Laorsek, the daeyari called it.

She’d learned to speak much of the daeyari language this past year – in many instances, solidly against her will, and supremely annoyed at the smug beast whose idea of ‘teaching’ was to repeat a hundred words at her until she relented and shouted them back. Laorsek was the person who held the upper hand in a negotiation.

‘A nice carrot,’ Clarence grumbled. ‘What happens if I’m not interested? Your daeyari comes after me instead?’

‘Nope,’ Fi returned cheerfully.

‘. . . Nope?’

‘Regardless of your answer’ – she nodded to the cardstock – ‘that’s yours to keep. Daeyari make strict territory borders to control human movements, to keep us dependent. This territory doesn’t work like that anymore.’

Clarence scowled at the paper. Another long silence, as he considered Fi. And with a little extra nudge—

‘Why did you become a smuggler?’ Fi asked.

‘For the energy chips.’

‘Right. But what else?’

‘The energy chips are pretty motivating.’

‘Because of the daeyari,’ Fi pressed. ‘To skirt around their control of the territories, demanding sacrifices in exchange for resources. You know I’m the same, Clarence.’

‘Yet you’re helping one of them?’

‘This daeyari is different. Serving under his elected mortal governor, rather than giving orders. Expanding the representative council. Repairing and improving energy conduits with his own hands. Eating the dead, instead of live sacrifices.’

Fi attributed Clarence’s narrowed eyes to the atypically sincere and profanity-free monologue. Another obnoxious skill she’d had to develop.

‘This is real change,’ she said. ‘Don’t you want to be part of it?’

Clarence lifted a brow.

‘And getting fucking paid, obviously,’ Fi added. ‘Antal has kept every promise. I’ve made sure of it.’

Another long pause. Clarence made a deliberate show of reading the letter again.

‘What’s the job?’ he said at last.

With that, Fi had him.

‘We’re upgrading all our cities with more efficient energy conduits. We need conductive metal – the best you can get. Bring it to Thomaskweld, and you get paid.’ She dug out a second page from her jacket, an invoice for various metal grades.

Clarence’s brows shot up when he read the rates. Fair prices, no more daeyari suppression of materials or technology.

Fi let him hum over the paperwork, let him pretend he was playing hard to get. That was the trick, letting people think they had the upper hand. Being laorsek was a contest of confidence, more than anything.

At last, Clarence stowed the paperwork into a pocket of his coat.

They stepped outside together. Fi shook his hand.

‘I look forward to doing business with you,’ she said, syrupy sweet.

‘Invite me to coffee next time, you ass. What am I supposed to think, the daeyari’s Arbiter sneaking up on me in my hotel room?’

‘Not his Arbiter,’ she reiterated.

‘The fuck am I supposed to call you, then?’

Truly, Fi didn’t know. Their world had a name for humans who served as the hand of their immortal lords – Arbiter. They had words for humans willing to fall into daeyari beds – foolish, playthings, casualties.

There was, as far as Fi knew, no name for whatever she was, partner instead of prey.

‘Fi is fine,’ she said. ‘The same as always.’

With their business concluded, Clarence disappeared into the terminal. Fi let him go with a smug smile, fists braced on her hips after an excellent negotiation. He hadn’t even genuinely tried to stab her. That separated him from a solid half of the smugglers she’d talked to. Granted, most of those had owed her an attempted stabbing.

She retraced her route out of the transit terminal, past the bright lights and wide windows of the waterfront shops, back to the quay overlooking the harbor. She found Aisinay lying on the concrete, fluked tail curled around folded hooves. The fins at her tail-tip and down her neck were fanned open to the sun. Feathers littered the ground. At least one seabird had wandered too close.

At Fi’s approach, the blind horse huffed. Whatever Fi’s energy smelled like, it earned her a welcoming snort.

‘Oh, sure, now you get out of the water?’

Another snort, curter.

‘No, you’re right. You wouldn’t have been much help in the transit terminal.’ Obnoxious know-it-all. ‘Ready to go home?’

Aisinay stood with a clack of hooves. Fortunately, the sun had dried her scales. Fi mounted the horse’s bare back then settled a hand on her neck. No sight, but Aisinay sensed the gentle energy current Fi Shaped at her fingertips, steering her forward.

The Curtains in the transit terminal, Fi avoided. She preferred quieter routes, lesser-known Curtains outside the city, the coveted navigation routes she’d mapped out as a smuggler.

She guided Aisinay away from the waterfront. Shopfronts shifted into apartments. Apartments shifted into homes on wider lots, the city fringes splintering into inland peat bogs.

The outskirts of Calvariz were busier than Fi had ever seen, carts clogging the frozen mud road, new houses being built. Antal Territory had long been a haven for those seeking a more lenient daeyari, fewer sacrifices, and free reign to his elected governor. Now that he’d stopped eating live prey altogether, word was spreading, more humans moving in every day.

Fi had made this happen. When Antal’s daeyari neighbor, Verne, had staged a coup to seize this land, Fi had helped him kill the tyrant and reclaim his territory. She’d pushed Antal to make real change. It was strange, seeing her actions have such wide-reaching consequences.

She didn’t feel like a sellout. She did feel like the world was larger than it used to be.

And maybe that was a little terrifying. A year of progress, but always more to do.

Fi was nearly to her Curtain when she smelled smoke. Odd, with snow crusting the bogs.

As Fi was being responsible today, she steered Aisinay off the road, weaving through hillocks and tundra ponds until she came upon a pair of patrol officers in dark blue coats. Ahead of them lay charred timber, the remnants of a building.

At their feet lay a heap of muddy cloth. Body-shaped.

‘What’s happened here?’ Fi called out.

The officers turned. She watched their appraisal of her Void horse, her rainbow hair.

Then, a more pointed appraisal of her Void horse. Her rainbow hair. Her black and red coat. Fi was still settling into the role, might not know what to call herself, but she retained enough petty spite toward law enforcement to enjoy flummoxing enforcers any day.

‘Miss Kolbeck? We hadn’t heard you were visiting the city.’

‘Territory business,’ she returned imperiously. ‘What’s happened here?’

‘A fire, miss. Burned the place down before anyone could stop it. Owner was a sheep herder. Poor bastard didn’t get out in time.’

Fi surveyed charred foundations, loose sheep wandering the yard. What a wretched way to go. ‘If you—’

Aisinay lurched beneath her. Fi barely held on as her horse pranced, nostrils flared. She pressed a hand to Aisinay’s neck, urging calm.

Fi didn’t enjoy the smell of burnt flesh, either.

‘If you need help,’ she continued. ‘Or if there’s family needing assistance, send word to the governor in Thomaskweld. We’ll support however we can.’ A year had shown her the needs of a territory were endless. Every small kindness was remembered.

The patrolmen nodded. Fi, eager for home, urged Aisinay toward the road.

The horse wouldn’t budge. She pranced again, eyes wide.

‘What’s gotten into you?’

Aisinay took longer to soothe this time, her snout raised, scenting the air. Fi scanned the moors, searching for the source of her agitation. There were only sheep. Only burnt rubble.

Fi dismounted and grasped the fin down Aisinay’s neck, leading her into a walk.

Reluctantly, Aisinay complied. Her head stayed tilted. Still testing the breeze.

🟎 🟎 🟎

The fickle horse was back in good spirits the moment she smelled home.

A couple hundred miles lay between Calvariz and their destination, but Fi never traveled the long way. They stepped through the first Curtain outside the city, off the Winter Plane, onto a smaller Shard. The fragment of reality lay beneath silvered light, speckled in heather brush with bone-white stems and pale leaves, stone crumbling into nothingness at the edges.

Around the Shard, the view was black, starless, moonless. An endless Void of liminal space beyond realities, ozone sharp on Fi’s tongue.

Maybe she wasn’t taking the fastest way home. The human concept of Voidwalkers – mortals who could see Curtains, but still relied on walking across Shards to travel from one Plane to another – was a misnomer, Antal insisted on reminding her. According to daeyari, real Voidwalking would require Fi to jump into the abyss itself. A feat she’d survived before.

But Aisinay preferred solid ground beneath her hooves.

They passed through a Curtain onto another Shard. Another. Another. Each stepping stone warped distance compared to the Plane, cutting the journey down to an hour. As the final Curtain approached, Aisinay perked her ears and pushed into a canter.

They passed through with a prickle of cold, back onto the Winter Plane.

Twilight lay upon the mountain ridge. Shiverpines loomed above, needles dark and snow-heavy. Fi set Aisinay loose into the trees, off to forage for fish in the nearby river.

Her cottage lay in the clearing. Windows dark.

Had she really been gone a whole month this time? Her longest absence yet. More and more, she spent time where she was needed, in Thomaskweld and other major cities. Another reason the world felt bigger – her quiet retreat in the woods, traded for a capital city.

Still had to check in occasionally, make sure no rats had moved into her cupboards. Fi kicked the snow off her boots then stepped inside.

She touched a metal wall panel, Shaping energy out of arm muscle to power on the lights. The place was as she’d left it. Her plants, she’d cleared off the kitchen counter. The table, messy with empty energy capsules. The air, stuffy with disuse.

In the corner . . . the heater was already on?

A prickle ran down her neck. Fi tensed.

She knew that gut twinge of being watched. Instinct pushed her to the balls of her feet, a grab for her sword. Her only warning was a creak from her rafters.

A tackle sent her to the floor. She hit hard on her elbows, snarling to free herself of the arm snaring her waist. When she twisted for a kick, a tail lashed around her ankle. Claws gripped her shoulders, pinning her to the boards.

Above her, fangs flashed. Crimson eyes glowed in frames of black sclera, the lethal gaze of an immortal daeyari, the nightmare every human had been raised to fear.

‘Did you try to kick me?’ the beast demanded indignantly.

Antal’s thighs straddled her hips. His tail brushed floorboards, five feet of surprisingly strong rope restraining her calf, as if he suspected she might try kicking him again.

Reasonable. She certainly would.

Fi tried to wriggle free, to no avail. These were fearsome creatures indeed, as cruel and cunning as all the stories claimed. Pinned beneath a terrifying predator, no rescue in sight, she pressed the back of a hand to her forehead and swooned.

‘Oh, woe is me!’ she proclaimed. Loudly. ‘A fearsome daeyari, ambushing me in my home. Surely, I’m doomed to be eaten.’

Antal leaned back. Blinked. Void alive, she loved that dumb fluster on his face.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked.

She squinted one eye open. ‘I’m role playing, you wet mop.’

‘Role playing?’

Fi swooned again, tossing her head to the side in a splay of hair. ‘I’m the helpless damsel. You’re the beast. Surely, there must be a folktale like that?’

‘Oh? And how would that one go?’

When he grinned, her breath came too short. His mouth cut a wicked curve, sharp with predator’s teeth. Dim light glinted on dark antlers, the blue-black tousle of hair between, the sides shaved close. Shadows starkened the clavicle left carelessly bare by his unbuttoned collar, traced every hard line of his forearms as he held her down.

He leaned closer, pressing his weight against her thighs. Fi devoured the tease of ozone on her tongue.

‘Well,’ she breathed. ‘I’d think it would start with—’ But before she could finish, he was kissing her.

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