Wings of Shadow

by Nicki Pau Preto

  Veronyka had no idea what a benex was, but even still… what Val said might be true. They’d been born together, after all, and Veronyka might have shared her dream to fight and rule and die together… once.

  But no longer.

  Her free hand swung up from her belt, a poisoned dart gripped tight. Before Val even noticed the movement, she had plunged the pointed tip deep into the side of her neck.

  Val jerked back, her hand flying up, but already the effects were slowing her movements, the poison slipping into her bloodstream. She stumbled—Veronyka had never seen her make such an ungraceful movement—and her eyes glazed.

  “This… is not… over,” she slurred, staggering against Onyx, who had rushed forward to catch her. I am coming for you… for everyone.

  Then she fell to the ground.

  The bond that had so recently blossomed back to life inside Veronyka faded to a distant, dull presence, leaving her head ringing and her body heavy with the sudden absence.

  And that wasn’t the only side effect.

  All around her, the endless cacophony of shrieks and flapping wings faltered. As one the strixes reeled and fell from the sky—stunned, dazed, but not truly affected as Val was. They felt it through their bond, but not physically. Even Veronyka had to fight against the wave of exhaustion that rolled through her, but she had the benefit of being prepared for it.

  Onyx, who would feel it stronger than the others, managed to crouch defensively over Val’s prone form—a barrier between Veronyka and her prize.

  Veronyka hesitated, hand on the hilt of her dagger. If she could just drag Val with her, if she could manage that one thing… But even as she thought it, the other strixes started scrambling to their feet, staggering woozily and haphazardly flapping their wings.

  It wouldn’t be long before they recovered, and even if she managed to bypass Val’s bondmate, she’d never get away. The strixes were too many, and if she had Val in her possession, they would chase her.

  But if Veronyka and the others left now, without Val, they might make it out of this alive.

  Farther down the street she saw Latham and Loran scrambling onto their phoenixes, and with a sweep of her magic, she found the other members of the patrol taking this chance to shake their pursuers.

  As if to make the decision for her, Onyx shrieked, drawing several more unsteady strixes to her side, shoring up her bondmate’s defenses.

  Veronyka’s chance at getting Val was gone. She turned on her heel and ran for Xephyra.

  “Retreat!” she yelled as she climbed into the saddle, as if the Phoenix Riders weren’t already several steps ahead of her.

  Xephyra soared through the sky, and regret pooled in Veronyka’s stomach as she felt the last scraps of Val’s consciousness slip away.

  It was a relief, but she knew the reprieve would be short-lived.

  Their plan had failed. Val would recover, soon, and make good on her promise.

  But for one who is worthy, this power could make all the difference.

  - CHAPTER 47 - VERONYKA

  THEY HAD JUST CROSSED the river on their way back to Prosperity when they were hailed by a group of Phoenix Riders coming their way. Veronyka kept glancing over her shoulder, expecting the strixes hot on their tail, but they did not follow.

  As they met the oncoming Riders, Veronyka recognized her aunt at the fore. She must have rallied a patrol in the hope of helping them.

  Veronyka was thankful they had not made it in time. They might have tried to fight then—seeing the strixes’ momentary daze as opportunity—but even with that brief advantage, the Phoenix Riders were too outnumbered.

  It was a miracle they had gotten away unscathed.

  Or had they?

  As they met with the secondary force and came to a stop along the river, Veronyka realized that they had not made a clean escape after all.

  The Riders who landed ahead of her, including the members of Tristan’s patrol and the apprentices who had been in Rushlea when it was taken, were clustering around Anders, blocking him from view.

  Veronyka sent a wary tendril of magic toward him and found intense, alarming pain on the other end.

  She darted a glance at Latham, who flew just ahead of her, and the pain seemed to double. He had abandoned Anders in order to find his brother, and that decision had not come without consequence.

  As they landed, Latham dismounted and pushed through the crowd to get to Anders. Veronyka followed close behind.

  He was slumped in his saddle, those around arguing over whether they should help him down or strap him in tighter while his phoenix emitted soft, frantic croaks.

  “It’s okay,” Veronyka murmured to the creature. She ran a hand along his feathers, which were splattered with streaks of inky black blood and dotted with bits of ash, but he seemed unharmed.

  Anders, however, had an ugly wound in his shoulder, where three distinctive gashes sliced through fabric, flesh, and muscle. It looked like one of the strixes had raked him as it flew by or tried to tear him from his saddle.

  He was hunched over, bleeding profusely, while Darius—who had come with the reinforcements—used a wad of fabric in an attempt to stanch the flow.

  “Anders!” Latham shouted, trying to get close enough to see his face. “Anders, talk to me.”

  “Someone check his head…,” Anders muttered, still bent over his saddle. Latham looked around in alarm—the words were slurred and made little sense. But then Anders managed to raise his face enough to meet Latham’s eye. “People usually… only tell me to shut up.”

  “You’re an idiot,” Latham choked out, not without affection. Anders smiled in gratification, though the expression quickly shifted into a grimace. Veronyka felt a severe pang of guilt, and while she had plenty of her own to contend with, that particular burst came directly from Latham.

  “Veronyka.”

  Alexiya sidled over to her, worry written across her usually stoic features. They pushed through the crowd, allowing the others to tend to Anders, so they could speak in private. Xephyra followed them, anxious to be near Veronyka after everything that had happened.

  “We—I—it didn’t work. I managed to hit her with a dart, but I couldn’t take her with me. She had her strixes with her after all, and there are more… many more than the first attack.”

  “Are they pursuing?” Alexiya asked, turning her attention north.

  Veronyka shook her head. “I don’t think so. I think they’ll wait for Avalkyra to recover.”

  “How long?”

  “Around twenty-four hours, roughly. At least, that’s what Hestia said.”

  Alexiya took her shoulders and gave them a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay. It was worth trying. We’ll…” She paused, looking around at their small party. “We’ll figure out our next move at Prosperity.”

  “I need to send word to Haven. I promised.”

  Alexiya nodded. “I’ll handle it.”

  “Tell them—” Veronyka started, then stopped. Their backs were against the wall, and they needed all the help they could get. “Ask them if they’ll fight with us. Not for me or for the throne, but for each other. Only together can we make it through.”

  Alexiya nodded.

  “Use a fast pigeon,” Veronyka added. “Agneta will be worried. And we don’t have much time.”

  “I’ll use the fastest pigeon I can find,” she promised.

  As Darius finished securing the fabric to Anders’s shoulder, ordering the others to strap him in tighter so he could be taken to Prosperity for a proper healer, Veronyka turned her attention inward.

  Tristan? she tried tentatively.

  Veronyka! came the quick reply, laced with heavy relief.

  I’m sorry, she said hurriedly. I never meant to keep you waiting. It didn’t work, but I’ll explain everything at Prosperity.

  It was well past midnight when they arrived, but the entire outpost was up and waiting for them. Veronyka left it to Alexiya to share the basics with those who as
ked, and Ronyn and Lysandro filled in what details they could. Latham followed Anders all the way to the infirmary, his brother trailing behind, but Veronyka had eyes only for Tristan.

  He was craning his neck, seeking her out, and when the crowd finally parted for them, he scooped Veronyka up in a hug so tight, it lifted her off her feet. Somewhere behind them, Rex tackled Xephyra. Theirs was a much less elegant reunion, all talons and feathers, but the sentiment was the same.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. Veronyka nodded into the crook of his neck. He put her down, sharp eyes raking over her body, looking for damage.

  “I’m fine,” Veronyka insisted.

  He looked like he wanted to press, then shook his head. “I know you are. You always are.” His smile faltered, and his eyes turned somber. He jerked his chin over his shoulder. “You need to come. Quick.”

  He led her around the building, across the outpost grounds to a clearing surrounded by heavy-boughed weeping willow trees. It was bathed in silvery moonlight, and there at the center were a cluster of people and two phoenixes.

  Veronyka’s heart jolted—that was Ignix, and next to her was Sparrow. Elliot was there too, his bondmate beside him, and they all turned at Veronyka’s approach, revealing a prone figure between them.

  “Morra?” Veronyka whispered, rushing forward and dropping to her knees. Morra was lying in the grass, several blankets underneath and piled up around her.

  It was hard to see in the darkness, but then a soft, golden glow filled the space. The phoenixes Ignix and Jaxon—plus Rex and Xephyra, who had followed them through the trees—were each emitting waves of warmth and gentle, buttery light.

  “It’s me,” Morra said, reaching for her hand. She was thin and trembling, with blood-soaked bandages visible on her arms and dark bruising around her neck.

  Val. Veronyka clenched her teeth. “She needs to see a healer,” she said angrily.

  “There’s no point,” Morra said matter-of-factly. Her voice was rough, but her tone brooked no argument. “No point.”

  Veronyka’s throat was tight. No point? Did that mean…? Yes, Morra said simply, her eyes fixed on Veronyka. “Forgive me, child,” she said aloud. “I thought it was the only way—the best way—so I went with her. Ilithya always hoped, dreamed of a world with you together.…”

  Ilithya—Veronyka’s maiora? “What do you mean?”

  “Ilithya reached out to me, once. She knew my work—do you believe that? Avalkyra Ashfire’s own spymaster knew about me. This was after the war, of course. I had long since stopped my studies and was working in a cookhouse. But Ilithya found me. Our acquaintance was brief, but life changing. She told me of Avalkyra, how she had resurrected, and asked me all manner of questions about how such a life could change a person. She feared her, I think. Ilithya feared her queen.” She paused, catching her breath. “Yes, we spoke often about Avalkyra, but very little about you.”

  Veronyka’s heart lurched painfully at her words, but Morra shook her head vigorously, as if sensing her thoughts.

  “She was protective of you. I think she knew, even then, that you were the key to everything. She made me promise. Promise that I would see our queen restored to the throne but only—only,” she added forcefully, “if you were with her. She did not tell me your name—she was concerned for your safety, even then—only that I would know you when I met you. I’m ashamed to say I didn’t, not until it was too late.”

  She paused, coughing, and Veronyka made soothing noises. “It’s okay,” she said, because she didn’t know what else to say. “It’s okay.”

  “I did my best to stall her,” Morra said on a sigh, “to slow her down, but it was no use. She was coming for blood—coming for you—so I tried to take some blood of my own.”

  Veronyka recalled the fresh cut on Val’s throat. So close.

  “But I fear I gave more than I took,” Morra continued. “She broke into my mind, figured out how to hatch more of them—but I told her about the benex bond. Despite that, I have given more to you.” She nodded vigorously. “I gave her knowledge, yes, but I have given you pieces of myself—my love and my loyalty. And that is what Ilithya gave you too.”

  “But she kept me a secret,” Veronyka whispered. She didn’t know why she said it, but it hurt, somehow, to hear that Ilithya had kept the very person who was meant to help her in the dark about Veronyka’s existence.

  “Not just any secret,” Morra said fiercely, “but a secret weapon. A hidden gem. She spoke often of Avalkyra, her virtues and her flaws, but you? You, she cherished and held close to her heart. I think secretly, deep down, she did not want you to rule. Avalkyra was twice-living proof of what the pursuit of the throne could do to a person. But deeper still, she knew you were the only person for the job. Love and loyalty,” she repeated, reaching a trembling hand to swipe at a tear on Veronyka’s face. “That is all you need and something you have earned every day of your life. And it is something Avalkyra will never understand.”

  “You have my love and loyalty too,” Veronyka said thickly.

  Morra smiled. “Thank you.”

  Xephyra crooned, and it filled the air like music.

  “What now?” Veronyka whispered. “What can I do?”

  Morra shifted to better see her. “For me?” she said. “Nothing. I am happy here, with the stars above and a halo of phoenix fire to keep me warm. I am filled with such cold.…” She trailed off, and Elliot knelt and held out a cup. After she drank laboriously, she continued. “Did Avalkyra get her hands on you?”

  It seemed a silly question, but Veronyka knew it wasn’t. Knew that Val had wanted, needed something from her, something that she couldn’t get while their bond was broken and unstable. “Yes, she did. Our bond…,” she began, trying to explain how it had grown weak, but Morra’s expression said she already knew about it. “It rebuilt itself. Stronger than before. And then she asked me to kneel to her, to become the benex to her apex.”

  “Did you?” Morra asked urgently. “Give her your allegiance?”

  “Of course not,” Veronyka said, indignant.

  Morra smiled softly. “Of course not.”

  “But what does it mean, Morra?”

  “The apex pair is the highest-ranking bondmates in a flock. They are often oldest and strongest—though that is not always the case.” She spoke easier now—likely thanks to whatever Elliot had given her. “It is a social position, but it comes with increased magical power. A group bond forms, allowing the apex pair ease of connection and control over the flock, but only with a benex can she reach the height of her powers.”

  The height of her powers… Val had expressed that desire to Veronyka mere hours ago. “But what is a benex?”

  “A secondary bonded pair, linked to the apex pair. It’s like a magical second-in-command, sworn to serve the apex.”

  So that’s why Val had wanted to fix their bond. Why she’d demanded that Veronyka prostrate herself. “And if I had bowed to her, she’d be even more powerful?”

  “Yes, but it is more than that. If you had become benex in her flock, you could not become apex of your own.”

  Veronyka frowned, looking up at Ignix. “But I’m not—Xephyra and I, we’re not oldest or strongest.…” But even as she argued, Veronyka recalled that Morra had said that wasn’t always the case.

  “Her paranoia is possibly even more powerful than her ambition,” Morra said quietly. “But in this case, I do not think her fears are unfounded. Regardless, I believe she will try again, and ask more forcefully when she does.”

  Veronyka expelled a heavy breath. It was a lot to take in—Val’s endless schemes and Veronyka’s potential to help or hinder them. Yet at the same time, it was nothing new. Veronyka had not asked for this, but Val would punish her for it all the same.

  “She doesn’t scare me,” Veronyka said firmly.

  “She should. But fear is not the only motivator at her disposal.…”

  Veronyka knew the truth of that. Val had taken her love and af
fection for the people in her life and used it against her, threatening Xephyra and Tristan and everything she cared about. Val would promise their safety if she knelt.… She would promise all manner of things to get what she wanted.

  Then she would destroy it all anyway.

  She’d start with the empire. It would be brutal and bloody—and it might even seem like a boon, given the fact that the empire was ready to march on them. But once those foes were vanquished, where would she turn her attention? And what kind of world would be on the other side of it? An empire where daughters paid for the sins of their mothers? Where vengeance was doled out brutally and without mercy? And after all those countless innocent lives were taken—their families broken, their livelihoods ruined—would Val be the one to pick up the pieces? What did she know about peace? The empire would be demolished, its people beaten down, and hatred for Val and the Ashfires, for all animages and winged magical creatures, would be at a new high. Tensions would boil over, and they would fight this same war over and over and over again, which might just be what Val truly wanted.

  They didn’t need more bloodshed. They needed to unite, not fracture even further.

  It would take a skilled leader to bring these forces together for the greater good. Could Veronyka be that leader? Would it mean being queen and apex? And however things looked on the other side, would she be strong enough to repair and rebuild and remake the world?

  “What do I do?” Veronyka asked desperately. “How can we stop her, when she’s already so powerful?”

  Morra smiled widely. “It’s simple. You’re powerful too. Whether you choose to become apex or not.”

  Was it her choice? She glanced at Ignix again, who watched the scene with somber but otherwise inscrutable eyes. If Veronyka decided she wanted such a position, what would she have to do to get it?

  “And you, Veronyka, are my Ashfire queen,” Morra continued. “Whether you make that choice or not.”