Wings of Shadow

by Nicki Pau Preto

  He stopped talking, the sparkle in his eyes dimming when he saw that Sev wasn’t laughing with him. “You could…” He gestured to the space next to him, the place Sev had so unceremoniously vacated, before darting a look toward the cave mouth. “We have some time until dawn, I think.”

  He looked uncertain, and the sight sent a pang through Sev’s chest. He wanted to crawl back under the blanket. He wanted to pretend that Jinx didn’t change everything… but she did. They were a pair now—Kade and Jinx—and Sev didn’t fit within that framework… within that life.

  The sooner they both accepted that, the easier things would be.

  “I think you’re right,” Sev said, turning away. “That we should get moving, I mean. The soldiers will have noticed my absence by now.” He didn’t know that for certain, but they would discover it eventually, and the farther they were from here, the better.

  Kade didn’t say anything, forcing Sev to look at him again. He was frowning, and suddenly it felt like months ago when Sev was on Pyrmont, constantly earning Kade’s grim looks and dark glares.

  “Okay,” Kade said at last, getting to his feet and tightening the undone laces of his tunic with halting movements. He left the cave without another word.

  Sev knew he was probably looking for Jinx—so they could leave—but it felt prophetic, like seeing into the future. Kade was a Phoenix Rider now, and Jinx was his bondmate.… He would always choose her.

  * * *

  They were due to rendezvous with the other Phoenix Riders that morning, and the only way to make that happen was for Sev to ride Jinx with Kade. The prospect should have been exhilarating; generally, Sev had no qualms pressing himself against Kade and holding on tight, but he couldn’t silence the voice in the back of his mind that called him a fraud. He was no proper animage and no Phoenix Rider. Surely Kade would notice how stiffly he sat in the saddle, how uneasy he made the phoenix feel?

  Maybe it was for the best, then. The sooner Kade realized they no longer fit together, the better.

  Right?

  Except they did fit together. After Kade mounted up and reached for him, Sev slid neatly behind him on the saddle. But this wasn’t what Phoenix Riders did—they didn’t ride as pairs—and all Sev would be was extra weight, a burden to bear. No, for them to truly fit together, Sev would need a phoenix of his own, which was impossible. As his thoughts turned dark, Jinx squawked and shuffled beneath him—further proof that was something that would never happen.

  “She’s excited,” Kade said, soothing Jinx with a touch, making her as still and stoic as a cart horse. But Sev knew the truth: He didn’t belong anywhere near a phoenix, and she knew it too.

  Despite the awkwardness, Kade did his best, assuring Sev he would be safe, the flight would be relatively short—that no harm would come to him on Jinx’s back. His every word radiated pride and pleasure in his bondmate, and Sev tried not to be jealous. Tried, and failed. Theirs was a connection Sev could never understand, a bond he could never compete with.

  So while he should have been relishing their flight, watching the world reveal itself below as night receded and dawn approached, Sev pressed his forehead into the center of Kade’s back, seeing nothing. He wondered bleakly if he should try to salvage his place in the empire—at least it would be familiar. At least as a spy-soldier he had something to offer. With Kade he would forever be lacking.

  They arrived at the lakeside camp in the early morning, Kade signaling to the Rider on patrol before coming to a landing in the middle of a half circle of tents with a smoking cook fire at its center.

  Kade dismounted first, reaching up to help Sev, who scrambled off rather gracelessly on his own. Kade dropped his outstretched hand, clearly hurt, but Sev didn’t want to appear any more useless and pathetic than he already did.

  Together they turned to face a group of young men close to their own age.

  “This is Tristan’s patrol,” Kade said, voice stiff with formality—though it was obviously directed toward Sev and not the others. They hurried forward to shake his hand and greet him warmly, before turning their attention to Sev.

  “So this is the spy,” said one of the Riders, an icy blond who fixed Sev with a cool, measuring stare.

  “I think you mean ‘This is the ally who helped us free Tristan,’ ” supplied another of the Riders. He was tall and lanky with cool brown skin and grinned from overlarge ear to overlarge ear. “That’s Latham, and I’m Anders,” he said, holding out a hand.

  “Sev—and did you say you managed to free Tristan? Where is he?”

  “And Veronyka?” asked Kade, looking around.

  “Both are in Aura Nova by now,” said a thickset boy with a deep voice. “We’re awaiting updates.”

  His name was Ronyn, and he shook Sev’s hand and introduced himself just as the last member of their party—who had been on watch when they arrived—came in for a landing. While Ronyn had the look and accent of a Pyraean local like Kade, the other boy, Lysandro, had olive skin and soft brown hair that put Sev in mind of a shorter, skinnier—and yes, less attractive—version of Tristan.

  “Doing what?” Sev asked the group at large. “Is it Lord Rolan? Or the Grand Council?”

  “Both,” said Anders grimly, clapping him on the back and steering him toward the fire, which Lysandro hastened to stoke as Latham mounted up and took over the watch. “Come on, we’ll fill you in.”

  They ate breakfast as the others relayed the news of Rolan’s decoy carriage and Commander Cassian’s plan to fly overnight to Aura Nova and attempt to beat him to the Grand Council meeting, which they assumed would begin sometime this morning.

  “Now we wait,” said Ronyn, getting to his feet to take over the next patrol. He called over his phoenix, who was splashing with the others in the shallows of the lake nearby. Jinx had fluttered over to join them as soon as they’d arrived, and it felt surreal to see them behaving like any flock of birds having a bath. But the Shadow Plains were utterly deserted, and there was no one around for miles.

  “You stay, Ronyn. I can go,” offered Kade, while Anders and Lysandro began cleaning up the meal and talking about weapons training. “I need something to do.”

  Sev stared down at the empty bowl in his hands. The fire popped and guttered, and he lurched to his feet.

  “I’ll get firewood,” he said, handing the bowl to Anders before walking off, toward the distant cluster of scrub brush that lined the shore of the lake.

  Halfway there he realized he should have brought a bucket or a sling—something to carry the wood—not to mention a hatchet or a knife. His hands were still bandaged and tearing branches free was likely to be agony, but he couldn’t stand the thought of sitting there while the others worked, having nothing to do and no skills to offer.

  Scraping footsteps sounded behind him, and he turned to find Kade in pursuit… carrying both a hatchet and a canvas sack.

  Sev expelled a breath through his nose and stopped next to the shrubbery.

  “Forgetting something?” Kade asked, a tentative smile on his face. He nodded down at Sev’s bandaged hands. “They won’t be much use.”

  “Just like me,” Sev muttered.

  Kade frowned. “Are you…? What’s the matter?” he asked, dropping the bag and lodging the hatchet into the nearest branch, which was brittle and twisted with thorns. There had once been leaves on the plant, Sev thought, but they had long since died and blown away.

  “I thought you were going to fly Ronyn’s patrol?” Sev asked, avoiding the question as well as Kade’s frowning amber eyes.

  “He insisted on sticking to their schedule,” he replied steadily. “Besides, I knew you’d need help.”

  “I’m not completely useless,” Sev argued, scowling. He swallowed, looking down at his bandaged hands and then at the hatchet and sack. “Despite appearances.”

  Kade took a step forward. “No one thinks you’re useless, Sev. Me least of all.” The words were meant to be a comfort, but his tone was laced with frust
ration.

  “Maybe not in general,” Sev said, turning away from Kade to look back toward the camp, at the distant phoenixes and their Riders. “I’m a decent thief… good with a lock. But I am useless here—with them.”

  “You mean with me,” Kade parsed.

  Sev turned back to face him. “It’s true. Don’t deny it.”

  Kade crossed the distance between them and gripped Sev’s biceps. “I can and I will. We,” he said, gesturing to the Riders as well as himself, “wouldn’t have been able to free Tristan. You made that possible.”

  “Veronyka—” Sev began, but Kade cut him off.

  “—would have no idea where Tristan was without you. And while we’re talking about Veronyka, who protected her from the soldiers that raided her cabin on Pyrmont? Who freed her phoenix from the cell in the Foothills while Veronyka herself was imprisoned? Who saved hundreds of innocent lives from Rolan’s soldiers by figuring out the targets and sending word to the Riders so they could evacuate? Who saved every last one of the Phoenix Riders by warning the Eyrie of Belden’s impending attack, as well as delivering a dozen phoenix eggs to help with their resurgence?”

  “Trix, she—”

  “Who saved my life, carrying me to safety when I had a spear through my side?” Kade continued, his voice ragged now. “And who gave me a brand-new life with the Riders when he could have easily taken it as his own? You, Sev. You. Do not call yourself useless again, especially not where I can hear it,” he finished fiercely, releasing Sev at last, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

  Sev’s mouth—which had been hanging open—snapped shut. He struggled to reconcile his feelings of inadequacy in the face of Kade’s sincere, overwhelming praise.

  You’ll see, he wanted to say. I’m not good enough for you, for the Riders. Eventually you’ll see. But the smug part of him that wanted to be right wilted in the face of the desperate part of him that wanted to be wrong.

  Kade’s eyes, slightly wild as they roved Sev’s face—searching, maybe, for a sign he’d gotten through—finally settled, but he hadn’t found what he was looking for. His expression was weary, even defeated, but the spark of anger that made Kade who he was caught once more, and his gaze turned hard. Combative. He would rather keep arguing than win by forfeit.

  “But none of that matters,” he said, the words raw and tender—or maybe that was the way they felt as they grated against Sev’s rapidly thinning skin. “It’s about who you are, not what you can do. Until you see that, you’ll always think you’re wanting.”

  Sev heard the words, pressed them to his heart… but felt wanting all the same.

  While resurrection in phoenixes is a common and well-accepted occurrence, resurrection of the human variety is hotly debated.

  It is not the purpose of this paper to argue for or against its existence, but rather, to explore the repercussions of such an ability—if indeed it were possible.

  We are well aware of the reciprocal nature of magic. A birthing pyre requires a tribute of fire and bones, of life, in order to awaken the phoenix. We also know that phoenix resurrection requires a similar payment.

  But what else does resurrection require? For we give more to the pyre than mere blood and bones, do we not? We give of ourselves. That is how the bond is made. A connection is forged, and two lives are melded together.

  Is the same true, then, of human resurrection? Except instead of forging a link with a bondmate who guides the revenant through, does this remade soul become bound to their past self?

  Would they retain all their memories, preserved like an insect in amber… or would the events of their past life haunt them, like ghosts—indistinct and noncorporeal?

  There is also the question of a resurrected individual’s magic. Being born from death—even if it is their own—should, in theory, give the person shadow magic. If they were a shadowmage in their previous life, that ability has the potential to be even more powerful than before.

  Going through such darkness might also make the magic of the living—animal magic—not only less desirable, but farther out of reach. Indeed, without a phoenix, animal magic might seem unworthy to a shadowmage, and surely that could result in its diminishment.

  —“Human Resurrection,” from Essays on Magic, by Morra, priestess of Axura, 166 AE

  I know I must fight. I know it is my duty, but… I am so very tired.

  - CHAPTER 28 - VERONYKA

  VERONYKA’S HEART RACED THE entire flight to Aura Nova.

  She hadn’t been back to the Golden Empire’s capital since she and Val had left it almost a year—had it been only a year?—ago. Then, she’d been an anonymous orphan girl traveling with her sister. Now? It felt like she was a new person going to a new place, and all the familiarity of it seemed to throw the differences in herself and her world into sharp contrast.

  Veronyka wasn’t an orphan—she had a father somewhere, though Alexiya couldn’t find him.

  Val wasn’t her sister—she was a murderous queen, resurrected and reborn to reap bloody vengeance on the world, even if it took an army of mythical shadowbirds to do it.

  Veronyka also wasn’t anonymous, and her home wasn’t the small one-room apartment she’d shared with her maiora and her sister in the Narrows. Her home was the Nest, where her mother once walked the grand halls and where dozens of Ashfires since Elysia the Peacemaker had lived their lives.

  Or at least it would be, if she actually had to go through with this.

  Veronyka had known that she would have to come forward and claim her identity at some point, but this was definitely sooner than she’d expected.

  And despite her fears, she still clung to a small, fragile hope that even though she might become the empire’s official heir, she might not actually have to become its queen.

  She was still underage, after all, and they had no proof of her identity—plus, they were in the middle of wars on multiple fronts. This was a political move only, as temporary and ephemeral as her supposed betrothal to Lord Rolan. Words on the wind. Just one more move on a board in a game that was far from over.

  Even so, it felt like everything was happening too fast. But perhaps that was for the best. It didn’t give her time to dwell or reconsider. It didn’t allow her to fixate on the fact that the Eyrie had been more of a home to her than any place before it—and surely any place that may or may not come after.

  But Val had taken it from her. The least she could do was take this from Val in turn.

  Except… did Val even want to be queen anymore? To live in the Nest, the place that had housed her rival sister and the council that lifted her up? Surely she did, if only to tear it down. And the last thing in the world she would want was for Veronyka to have it instead.

  Dawn was stretching pearlescent fingers across the landscape by the time they arrived in the capital. In order to avoid being seen, they were forced to land on the sloping rooftop of an old bell tower where their phoenixes could hide among the long shadows while their Riders proceeded on foot.

  Daxos had looped around for a better view of the courthouse, and when he landed, Doriyan wore a grim expression on his face.

  “The council’s flag is flying,” he said. “They’re in session.”

  “Already?” Tristan asked. He looked exhausted but also exhilarated, the flush in his cheeks and the sweat on his skin giving some needed color to his recently acquired pallor. “I thought you said they didn’t convene this early in the day?”

  “Rolan must have pushed them to meet at dawn,” the commander said. “His little stunt with the carriage decoy proves he knows me better than I thought he did and expected us to betray him. No doubt he also expects us to arrive on his heels. Demanding a hasty vote is not outside the realm of possibility.”

  “So we’ve lost?” Tristan asked, looking at Veronyka. “There’s no sense in Veronyka coming forward, then, is there? She won’t be able to overturn the vote, will she?”

  “We need to get closer,” the commander said, apparen
tly refusing to accept defeat. “Even if Rolan called a dawn vote, that does not mean the rest of the council members will be so obliging. Besides, these sessions take hours—we can still interrupt the meeting and potentially put a halt to the vote.”

  Though it was a risk, Alexiya and Doriyan remained saddled, intending to follow in the air. If they stuck to the right rooftops, they could act as lookouts and cover Veronyka, Tristan, and the commander should things go awry.

  Xephyra and Rex were extremely put out to be left behind, but they couldn’t very well soar into the palace compound on phoenix-back, which would be akin to a declaration of war. Veronyka made it a point to admire how calm and collected Maximian was being—how graciously he had accepted his bondmate’s request to stay behind—and soon the younger phoenixes left off their sparks and stomps and remained sullenly still. They were just a few streets over from the courthouse, which meant they could come in a hurry.

  “You will enter first,” the commander was saying as they approached the high street, “but if it is amenable to you, I will do most of the talking.”

  Veronyka nodded, her palms sweaty. Tristan was looking between them, his brows raised as if surprised to hear his father defer to her or ask for her permission in any way.

  Veronyka smiled at him but sighed inwardly. It was a good thing, to be listened to and respected, but it felt like only the beginning of the way things would change for her as soon as she stepped into that room and declared her identity. Would Tristan fall in line next, refusing to treat her like a normal person?

  “It is a pity we didn’t have the time to get you prepped and properly attired,” the commander muttered, sounding almost nervous. He cast Veronyka an appraising glance. “You look very like a—”