Crown of Feathers

by Nicki Pau Preto

  “To look for another egg. There’s an outpost just outside Vayle; it hasn’t been in use since the Reign of Wisdom, when they relocated to Hightower across the river.”

  “But . . . Wise Queen Malka ruled almost a hundred years ago. Do you really think there’ll be eggs there?”

  Val shrugged. “Only one way to find out.”

  “We should go with you,” Veronyka said, her heart fluttering at the idea of going on a journey, however short.

  “You can come,” Val said, “but your phoenix cannot. I won’t compromise our safety as cavalierly as you do.”

  Veronyka stared at her hands. They had come to it, her and Xephyra’s disobedience. Rather than await Val’s tirade, Veronyka jumped in and changed the subject.

  “Maybe it’s time we moved on anyway,” she said carefully. She might defer to Val, let her make the majority of their decisions, but Veronyka had a brain too—she had opinions and ideas of her own and plans she wanted to make. Veronyka had always wanted to seek out other animages once she and her sister were in Pyra, to try to find friends and allies. Now that they had a phoenix to protect, Veronyka and Val needed those friendships more than ever. “The owner of this cabin could be back at any moment,” Veronyka continued. “Xephyra’s still small, but she’s only going to get bigger. And those soldiers . . . We’re not safe here.”

  “I will protect us,” Val said. “I always have, haven’t I?” Her jaw jutted out, as if daring Veronyka to claim otherwise.

  “Even if you’re not here?”

  Val’s nostrils flared. “If you’d done what I told you to do and stayed inside—”

  “I’d probably be dead,” Veronyka snapped. They stared at each other, but Val made no reply. “We don’t have to do this alone,” Veronyka whispered, trying to keep her voice reasonable. “We could look for other animages. We could look for Phoenix Riders.”

  “Phoenix Riders?” Val repeated flatly. “There are no Phoenix Riders, Veronyka. The empire slaughtered them all.”

  “The Riders maybe, but not the animages. If we can hunt down lost eggs and hatch them, who’s to say that others haven’t done the same? We should travel higher up Pyrmont. The farther we get from the empire, the better.”

  “The empire is everywhere, not just on the lower rim. We can’t trust anyone but ourselves.”

  Veronyka bit her lip. All their lives it had been like this. Veronyka was never allowed to make friends, to attend festivals or walk the city alone. It had gotten worse after their grandmother’s death, but her loss made Veronyka yearn for connection all the more. Val pretended it was about safety, blindly threatening to kill any stranger who crossed her path, but Veronyka knew it was more about control—and she was tired of constantly bowing to Val’s whims.

  Yes, the empire was everywhere—they’d just seen the evidence. But just because someone was from the empire didn’t mean they were bad. Veronyka and Val had both been born in the empire, no matter their Pyraean roots, and so had their maiora. She had told them to protect each other—but that didn’t mean living in seclusion and never trusting anyone else ever again.

  Trusting that empire soldier had saved her life. If she’d been like Val, blindly threatening to kill any stranger who crossed her path, she’d probably be dead.

  There was strength in trust, in unity. They needed to find a place where people like them could be safe and protected. If such a place didn’t exist, they’d have to make it for themselves.

  “Call her off,” Val said, interrupting Veronyka’s thoughts. She jerked her chin down at Xephyra, who was picking her way across the floor, burrowing her beak in a pile of shavings.

  “What—why? They’re garbage anyway.”

  “That’s not the point,” Val snapped, picking up the knife from where it lay on the cutting stone. The air in the cabin stilled, as if all the oxygen had been siphoned from the room.

  “She followed you today, left the cabin when you told her not to.”

  “Val, nothing happened!” Veronyka lied, her throat tight with dread. She tried to think of what to say, how to talk Val down from her simmering rage, but her mind was a blank haze. “She’s still young. She’s curious, and—”

  “She’s almost ready to ride, Veronyka! She’s no fresh hatchling. It’s been weeks since we built that pyre. Look how fast she grows, how much stronger she gets each day. You must rein her in. There may come a time when Xephyra’s obedience is the difference between life and death. You can’t ask her then. You will have to tell her—and she must listen.”

  With the knife gripped in one hand, Val drew a pitted date from her pocket with the other, holding it in the center of her palm. Xephyra’s head popped up, drawn to Val’s movement, her eyes fixed on the fruit in the girl’s outstretched hand. Dates were her favorite.

  “Val,” Veronyka said sharply, her muscles stiffening as she prepared to stand up. Val took a step backward, putting distance between her and Veronyka, and Xephyra followed.

  Powerlessness seized Veronyka, turning her body to lead. Xephyra was just out of reach, yet she might as well have been on the other side of the valley. The phoenix’s attention was turned toward Val, but she soon felt Veronyka’s distress. Xephyra’s black eyes glittered as she swiveled her head, looking from her bondmate to the treat, and then back to Veronyka.

  “Just call her off,” Val said calmly, stooping low to offer the date to Xephyra. Veronyka couldn’t take her eyes off the knife in Val’s hand. Dark, dangerous memories flashed before her eyes: Val dragging the dead body of their landlord into the alleyway after they’d missed several months of rent; Val defending them against three men who wanted more than their money, her face exultant and her hands dripping with blood.

  “I’m trying,” Veronyka said in a strangled voice, blocking out the haunting images and turning her focus to Xephyra. She slowed her breathing, trying to calm herself and convey meaning to her bondmate, to explain the concept of danger. Xephyra’s response was to send her bright-eyed reassurance: She’d had dates before. They were sweet and delicious, and Val was a familiar sight and sound and smell. Xephyra didn’t understand.

  “Don’t explain it to her,” Val said, while Xephyra took another step forward. “Tell her. Command her to step back. Command her to go to you.”

  Terror had sunk its teeth into Veronyka, and she tried—but she knew she did it wrong. She was desperate now, afraid and on the verge of tears. She didn’t command; she begged. She pleaded. And all her wild emotions managed to do was cause her phoenix to tilt her head in confusion before edging nearer to Val.

  “I can’t!” Veronyka cried out, losing her faith that Val would never do anything to hurt her. “Please, Val—I can’t. I—”

  “Order her!” Val yelled.

  The words weren’t just words—they were power. Val had used shadow magic on her, the magic she’d never turned on her sister before. For a moment Veronyka thought her body might bend to Val’s will. But the next thing she knew, she was on her knees, reaching, sobbing, tears streaming down her face.

  Val straightened up, no longer trying to lure the phoenix toward her. She sighed, her dark eyes filled with disappointment. She tossed the knife onto the cutting stone and dropped the date onto the ground at her feet. Xephyra leapt the last few paces between them and began pecking at it eagerly.

  Relief flooded Veronyka’s chest, loosening the tight knot twisted there.

  “Val—” she began, but she was interrupted by a retching, spluttering sound. A second later panic seared through the bond, intruding upon her thoughts.

  She knocked the cutting stone aside and leapt for Xephyra, but Val got there first, slamming into Veronyka and pushing her backward. Xephyra gagged, opening and closing her beak as she tried to bring up the date. Her feelings were so wild and insistent that Veronyka couldn’t tell which thoughts were hers and which belonged to the phoenix. As Veronyka struggled against Val, sorting through her clouded mind, she finally made sense of what was happening. Xephyra wasn’t ch
oking on the date; it wasn’t lodged in her throat, obstructing her airway. She’d already swallowed it. So why was she struggling to breathe?

  “You poisoned her,” Veronyka gasped, unable to believe it even as she knew it must be true. She stared wide-eyed at Val—the person who’d helped raise her, Veronyka’s sister and protector and friend.

  “Xe Nyka,” she said, using the Pyraean nickname for “Veronyka.” Val’s voice was sweeter in Pyraean, the long e sound of Nyka softer, gentler—almost soothing. But if it wasn’t a denial Val intended to speak, Veronyka didn’t want to hear it. She shoved her sister, hard, and Val toppled backward into the cabin wall.

  Veronyka didn’t hesitate, but flung herself onto the ground next to her bondmate. Xephyra’s bulging eyes met hers, but they couldn’t focus. Pain gnawed at Xephyra’s stomach, pulsing through the bond, while her thoughts, her emotions . . . they were ebbing away, like water through cupped hands.

  Veronyka reached out for her, mentally and physically, but then Val was there again, dragging her backward. Veronyka fought her—more savagely than ever before, more than she’d fought even for her maiora—but Val’s grip was unrelenting. Veronyka could do no more than watch in horror as, with a stagger and one last chirrup, Xephyra fell to the ground, unmoving.

  Veronyka’s mind went silent.

  Their bond, their connection—just like that, it was gone.

  Phoenixes are the reason magic exists. Azurec’s flaming warriors of light needed to be able to communicate with humankind, and vice versa, and so Nefyra and the First Riders were gifted with animal magic.

  Because the First Riders were Pyraean, some people believe that the people of Pyra are the source of magic and that all magic in the valley was brought with them when Elysia made her conquest. But, of course, Elysia didn’t come alone—she came with phoenixes.

  Therefore, Azurec is the source of magic, and phoenixes are its bearers, spreading magic across the land and bringing it to life where it lay dormant in humans all over the valley.

  Of course, if phoenixes were ever to disappear from the empire, magic would soon follow.

  —“Origins of Magic,” from Solstice Day Sermons by Friya, High Priestess of Azurec, published 111 AE

  There was rot inside the empire, taking root in secret, unchecked places. I knew I could not unplant the seeds, but I could raze the crop to the ground.

  - CHAPTER 7 -

  SEV

  SEV RETURNED TO THE campsite in a stupor.

  He kept seeing the girl and her phoenix, kept feeling the phantom press of cold steel against his throat. Sev rubbed the wound, the cut a superficial, stinging reminder of how close he’d been to death.

  But it wasn’t the brush with death that had him rattled—he’d been there many times before.

  No, it was that gods-cursed phoenix.

  What was he supposed to do now? Sev had known he wasn’t cut out for life as a soldier, but now he knew it beyond any shadow of a doubt. He couldn’t stomach the thought that they might run into more like her and that things might turn out very differently. He had been lucky today—both he and the girl had—but next time he might not be.

  Next time Sev might find himself with an innocent animage’s blood on his hands.

  He had to find a way out of this mess.

  When he rejoined Jotham and Ott, he kept his distance, not wanting to draw notice to himself or the fresh cut on his throat. It was growing dark by the time they passed the perimeter guard, and soon a low rumble of conversation, followed by shadowy figures moving through the trees, told him they’d arrived at camp. They’d set up in a thick copse of trees, and though the darkness was growing deeper with every step, there wasn’t a single torch or fire to light the way. Secrecy was paramount, and any fires after nightfall were prohibited.

  The soldiers tended to their weapons and set up their tents and bedrolls, while the bondservants fed the newly arrived pack animals and cared for the messenger pigeons. The cooks and attendants were already preparing the evening meal, slicing up cured meats and slathering honey on cold barley cakes. Just the sight of the hard, round disks made Sev want to gag. He’d been starving most of his life, but even he struggled with the bland, starchy food, a staple in the empire’s military diet.

  Better barley than black stew, he thought. It was a common saying among the soldiers he’d met who had, like him, gotten their start in the poorest parts of the empire, lining up for hours in the Narrows or the Forgotten District for a ladleful of the dark sludge-like gruel served by the acolytes of Miseriya—goddess of the poor and hopeless.

  Up ahead Ott’s angry voice floated above the sounds of the camp. “What d’you mean the captain’s gone?” he demanded. “What’d we rush back for, then?”

  “You rushed back because your captain ordered you to,” came the curt reply.

  It was Officer Yara, Captain Belden’s second-in-command. She was a veteran of the Blood War, her face and hands pocked with scars and burn marks. She was one of the few women in their party, a relic from the time before the war, when female enrollment in the military was encouraged. It was Phoenix Rider tradition for both men and women to fight, but after the Riders defected and betrayed the empire, the governors did everything they could to erase their influence—from destroying statues and banning songs to changing laws and customs. As far as Sev knew, women were still allowed to join the army, but it wasn’t common practice.

  Officer Yara was also Pyraean, but she was no animage, and so had remained loyal to the empire. She had earned her position during the war and fought hard for the respect of her peers. She was strict and no-nonsense, overseeing the daily operations of their company with a firm hand.

  “He has gone on an urgent errand,” she continued, “and you will report to me in his stead.”

  After some dark muttering, Ott proceeded to recount the day’s events, conveniently leaving out their stop at the cabin.

  Sev barely listened, his mind racing with what Officer Yara had said. The captain had gone on an urgent errand. That meant a change in routine. That meant possibility.

  Sev closed his eyes and flashed back to the duty roster he’d seen just that morning. He had a gift for memory, and he usually put his overactive brain to use, studying people and things and ordering them in his mind. It was a habit he’d picked up on the streets of Aura Nova. Just as he knew where to beg for coins and where to beg for a roll, he also knew which alleys were off-limits, thanks to gangs and street lords, and the best shortcuts to make an easy escape.

  He’d had to start all over again in the army, learning who to avoid—like Jotham and Ott—and who might show a kind hand. Sev had memorized people’s schedules and preferences, as well as their skills and liabilities. Most of it was useless, but sometimes it came in handy.

  Like today.

  Captain Belden had two personal guards, both of whom usually worked a night watch shift. But with Captain Belden gone from camp—and them with him—their shifts would have to be covered by two others. It was a small thing, but it might just be the advantage Sev needed, the twist of fate that he’d been waiting for.

  He had wanted a way out ever since he’d been made a soldier, but it hadn’t taken long to realize that desertion was next to impossible inside the empire’s heavily guarded training facilities and walled compounds. But then he’d been sent on his first mission, outside the empire. Sev had figured his work was half-done and had been on the lookout for his chance ever since.

  Dragging his feet, Sev lumbered forward. “ ’Scuse me, Officer Yara?” he said as Jotham and Ott were dismissed.

  She peered down her nose at him, and Sev guessed she was trying to remember his name. “Yes . . . soldier?”

  “D’you know if Garret is already at his post? He said it was my duty to bring ’round dinner to him and Arro, and—”

  Yara’s lips pursed. She knew full well that it wasn’t Sev’s duty to bring dinner to his fellow soldiers, and no doubt assumed this was some form of hazing t
hat the younger recruits often endured at the hands of the older—like the crossbow Ott had ordered Sev to carry on his behalf.

  “Garret and Arro are currently accompanying Captain Belden on his errand. Rian and Heller have taken their places, but I assure you, you need not bring them dinner.”

  Sev nodded gratefully and bowed his head before departing, trying to hide the smile that lit his face as he delivered Ott’s crossbow to the weapons master. Rian was as good a soldier as any, but while Heller was experienced, he wasn’t terribly spry. Old injuries plagued him, and though he did his best to hide it, Sev knew he was going deaf in his left ear. He’d first noticed it weeks back, the way Heller always tilted his head when someone spoke to him, and then Sev had tested his theory several times, sidling up to Heller’s left-hand side and trying to catch him off guard. It had earned Sev a smack to the side of the head, but it had been worth it.

  It wasn’t much by way of an advantage, but it might be enough.

  The watch would change once more before they broke camp at dawn, so Sev would have to make his move before then.

  Exhilaration swelled inside him as the soldiers settled in for the night. Sev performed his usual routine of wandering the edges of the clearing, outwardly looking for a spot for his bedroll but in actuality refreshing his knowledge of the names, faces, and habits of his fellow soldiers.

  Confirming that no eyes followed him and that any problematic soldiers were occupied with sleep or liquor, Sev clutched his bedroll tighter—concealing the fact that he wore a travel pack stocked with water and food supplies—and drifted deeper into the shadows before turning his back and slipping between the trees.

  The darkness pressed against his eyes, and Sev had to take careful steps to ensure he didn’t trip over roots or get caught in brambles. The perimeter watch always maintained a certain formation, and from his memory of the day’s duty roster, Sev knew that Garret and Arro had been assigned to the southwest points, so that’s where Rian and Heller would be.