She swallowed a number of angry replies and fought to keep her voice steady. “There must be other ways, means of earning a place . . .”
“There are,” the commander conceded. “When we recruit, the current Riders have the option of sponsoring one of the new applicants. Several of our current apprentices are being sponsored by Master Riders. They’re called underwings.”
“So, when you recruit again, I could apply as long as I found a sponsor?” Veronyka asked, a flicker of hope sparking to life inside her.
The commander looked uncomfortable. “Sponsorships are difficult to come by, Nyk. Those who can afford to take on an underwing are likely to pick friends and family—not a stranger.”
“But I could still try,” Veronyka pressed stubbornly.
“Indeed you could,” he said, his voice resigned, “but I don’t have plans for recruitment anytime in the near future, and we can’t afford to board you here while you wait.”
“There must be other ways I can earn my keep and help the Riders in the meantime,” she said desperately, leaning forward. “I could cook, clean, be a servant—maybe work in the stables?”
The commander pursed his lips. Then his expression cleared, and he bowed his head. “I’m sure our stable mistress, Jana, would welcome the extra help.”
Veronyka’s heart leapt despite her disappointment. Sure, she’d come here to be a Phoenix Rider—not to muck out stalls and feed grain to pack animals—but it was still something. It was still a way to be involved. And it wasn’t a no. She would work harder than anyone, show them she deserved to be here, that she had so much more to give.
And when the time came for the next recruitment, she’d have multiple sponsors lined up and would be the best damn applicant they had.
The Sekveia, or the “Second Road” in the Trader’s Tongue, is a deserted path through the wilds of Pyrmont and a mysterious relic of the ancient world—both in origin and in purpose.
Some historians suggest it was built in an attempt to expand the Pyraean Queendom and connect some of its smaller settlements on Pyrmont, with the hopes of developing a thoroughfare for trade that could lead all the way to the valley, though this idea never came to fruition.
It has also been postured that the Sekveia was actually built centuries earlier by civilizations unknown to us, possibly the now-extinct Lowland peoples. This is supported by the fact that many of the ruined temples and structures that can be found along the Second Road bear no resemblance to Pyraean architecture built before or after the empire.
Perhaps most outlandish of all these claims is that the Sekveia leads to the famous lost treasure of the Pyraean explorer Wylan the Wanderer, who disappeared himself after declaring he would fly his phoenix around the world.
The details of his exploits have been chronicled in many songs and poems, perhaps none more famous than the play titled The Wanderer’s Fortune. During a particularly successful run on Mummer’s Lane, the lead actor had hundreds of false treasure maps distributed to promote the show. It created such a fervor that mobs broke out and several people were trampled to death, causing the play to be temporarily shut down.
—Myths and Legends of the Golden Empire and Beyond, a compilation of stories and accounts, the Morian Archives, 101 AE
I wonder what they would call me now if they knew that I was the one who killed her.
- CHAPTER 15 -
SEV
PACK ANIMAL DUTY WASN’T a popular assignment among the soldiers. Most had little love for the animals’ smell and slow progress—not to mention the heaps of dung, with which Sev was well-acquainted—so nobody argued when he signed up for it day after day.
While he was frustrated about being given an assignment he didn’t understand, Kade appeared downright furious. He seemed to take it as a personal offense, as if Sev were somehow undercutting his authority or encroaching on his territory.
Was his hatred as simple as their separate roles, bondservant and soldier? Sev had hated soldiers once. They were the thundering footsteps in Aura Nova alleyways, the looming shadows on the doorsteps of every orphanage and cookhouse. They were the waves on the beach of the Pyraean border, lapping ever closer, until they’d poured over the hills and overrun his family’s farm.
Sev still hated soldiers, truth be known. And somehow he’d become one of them.
He couldn’t blame Kade for how he felt, and while neither of them was happy with the arrangement, they didn’t have a choice in the matter.
The one overwhelming positive was being near animals again. The llamas were sure-footed beasts, used primarily in the mountains, with long necks and sturdy padded feet. They reminded him a bit of the woolly, mild-mannered sheep his family had herded when he was a child.
Most of the time. He’d almost been bitten on more than one occasion and by more than one llama—though he’d begun to suspect one fellow in particular had a taste for him.
Sev knew it was risky, but he couldn’t help interacting with the creatures . . . just a little. A pat here, a nudge there, and before he knew it, he was helping with saddles and filling water troughs. The other soldiers assigned to pack animal duty stared incredulously at the extra work he was doing, but as far as Sev could tell, they thought he was trying to gain attention and approval from superior officers and not relishing in his contact with the animals.
To Sev’s surprise, he was enjoying his time with the bondservants as well.
At first the sight of them caused an ache in his chest, and it took a while for Sev to recognize it as envy. He knew it was strange for a free man to be envious of people forced into servitude, but as someone who had always hidden his abilities, he found being around animages who used their magic so openly was like watching someone guzzle gulps of cool water while he died of thirst.
Now Sev found their presence comforting. The thrum of magic, the hard but gratifying labor, and the way the humans and animals worked together—it all reminded him of his time on the farm. Tilla and Corem had herded sheep, the same as Sev’s family, while the youngest bondservant of the bunch, nicknamed Junior, was from the small village near where Sev had grown up, and his family were fishermen. Or at least they had been.
“Don’t know where they are now,” Junior told him one day as they filled the water troughs. He had coloring and features similar to Kade, so much so that they could almost be brothers, except where Kade was tall and muscular, Junior was lanky and thin, all elbows and knees. “Empire got me before dawn, when I was checkin’ the nets. I never saw my family again.”
Sev realized he was lucky to know what had happened to his parents; even though they were gone, he knew they were at peace and not in bondage elsewhere. Though Junior was young, from what Sev understood, his parents had made a decent living selling their fish, and his term was seven years—half his life. While Sev often pitied the bondservants, Junior’s story made him angry, and he had a sneaking suspicion that Trix might have intended for him to have these kinds of feelings. He guessed that she’d posted him with the bondservants to show Sev to whom his loyalties should belong. He was exactly like them. And yet, because of his choice to deny himself and his magic, he was free, and they were not.
Of course Sev wished life could be different. If the war hadn’t happened, he would have been a sheepherder and a farmer, and every animage in the empire and beyond would be free. There would be no “mageslaves,” the Phoenix Riders would have remained glorious—distant—heroes, and both his parents would still be alive.
But life wasn’t different, and Sev’s decision had saved him from bondage. How could he regret it?
While Kade was as gruff with Sev as ever, he completely transformed when he interacted with the llamas. His face—his entire being—lit up when he was with them, murmuring reassurances and praise and interacting so subtly and skillfully that Sev was more than a little bit impressed. He was clearly the strongest animage of the bunch, someone who had been using his magic since birth.
Sev liked this side of him. He
was usually so grim—even hostile—but with the animals, the stiff line of his shoulders relaxed, and his severe features softened into delighted smiles and gentle laughter. It made Sev want to be near him, to watch and bask in the warm light of his magical glow. But whenever Kade saw Sev close by, he’d scowl and turn away, and Sev would reluctantly do the same. He wished he could understand why Kade disliked him so much and find a way to quell the animosity between them.
Early one morning Sev scrambled from his bedroll just before dawn. The soldiers had camped in the shadows of a steep cliff next to a series of ruined structures. While they’d left the Pilgrimage Road far behind, they did sometimes find themselves on twisting stonework paths that would appear as if out of nowhere only to be swallowed by the forest moments later. There were broken archways made from rectangular blocks of stone, strange pillars engraved with unfamiliar geometric patterns, and crumbled statues standing guard along the way, so old and weatherworn that it was impossible to tell what they were supposed to be or who had built them in the first place. Sev had heard Corem say the word “Sekveia”—the Second Road—which was supposed to be a mythical route through the wilds of Pyrmont. When he was small, Sev and the other farmers’ children would go exploring in the Foothills, searching for the beginning of the legendary Second Road and the treasures it supposedly led to. Using it now as an empire soldier felt like some sick, twisted version of the childhood fantasy—especially if the “treasure” they sought at the end of this path was the Phoenix Riders’ hidden lair.
Noise had awoken him, and when he squinted toward the pack animals, he saw Kade already starting his work for the day. He was hauling sacks of grain and barrels of water, his breath swirling around his face. He’d removed his tunic, and steam rose from his body in the cool morning air, his chain glinting in the pale dawn sun.
Sev hadn’t slept well. Trix was nearby, muttering in her sleep as usual, and it had taken forever for him to drift off. He’d dreamed of the farm again, of rolling green hills and vast blue skies. Then he’d watched as it had all burned down.
Blinking to banish the images from his mind, Sev packed away his bedroll before making his way over to the paddock of llamas. His foot crunched on a small twig, and Kade whirled around, posture braced as if preparing for an attack.
He could be a soldier, Sev thought somewhat dazedly, scrubbing at his sleep-mussed hair, except for the eyes. They were intelligent and perceptive—but without cunning. They were kind eyes . . . until they recognized Sev.
“Oh,” Kade said, straightening up. “It’s you.”
With a sigh, Sev hunched over a water barrel and splashed several icy handfuls onto his face before taking a long drink.
When he straightened, Kade was still standing before him. He was panting slightly, his chest rising and falling, muscles glistening with sweat. As Sev lifted the edge of his tunic to mop his sodden face, Kade’s dark eyes followed his movements. His features were precisely carved, all angles and hard edges, and unlike Sev, whose chin was shaded with stubble, he’d kept up shaving his face, his jawline smooth. He was like a bronze statue of some ancient hero in a temple garden, gathering droplets of morning dew.
Sev inhaled sharply and cleared his throat, heat crawling up his neck. Since when did Sev care about temple statues? He realized with dismay that he’d been admiring more than Kade’s magic recently. He glanced up at the bondservant’s still-scowling face, and a bitter feeling settled in his stomach. Clearly the admiration was one-way.
Stepping around Kade, Sev spotted the stores of grain. He ripped one of the bags open and prepared to dump it into an empty trough, but Kade stopped him.
“What are you doing?” he demanded. His voice was its usual low rumble, but there was a raspy, gravelly edge to it—anger or annoyance, or maybe both.
Sev straightened, looking down at the grain in his hands. “Feeding them?” he said, his voice tilted as if it were a question. What had he done to earn Kade’s ire this time?
“Why?” Kade asked, taking a step forward. He waved a hand at the animals. “They are not your charges,” he said, then tapped a finger against his chest. “I am.”
“You’re not my charge,” Sev said uneasily. He was meant to guard the pack animal train and make sure everything went smoothly. Yes, that involved keeping an eye on the bondservants, but that didn’t make him Kade’s master.
“Don’t kid yourself, soldier,” Kade snapped, wrenching the feed from Sev’s grip. “You’re one of them.” He jerked his chin toward the rest of the campsite, where most of the soldiers were still sleeping.
“I know you don’t like me,” Sev began, clenching his hands into fists to stop from trying to snatch back the bag of feed. “But I think we’re more alike than you realize.”
Kade snorted, but Sev continued before he could make a snide comment.
“We both wanted to keep that girl safe,” he pointed out.
“There’s a difference between wanting to protect someone for their sake and wanting to protect someone for your own. You wanted to ‘keep her safe’ so that you didn’t have to be the one to deal the blow. You wanted to ease your own conscience so you could sleep at night.”
Sev bit the inside of his cheek, anger flaring in his breast. The words hurt, and the sting told Sev that Kade had struck close to home. Had Sev saved her neck only so he could save his own? Of course, Kade didn’t see what had happened afterward, how close Sev had come to dying for his decision that day.
“You’re a fair-weather ally—empty words and kind smiles—nothing more.”
“I didn’t ask for this, Kade,” Sev said, his voice quaking slightly as he continued to suppress his outrage. “I’m doing my best.”
“This is your best?” Kade asked skeptically, looking Sev up and down, taking in every imperfect inch of him. “I highly doubt that.”
Sev frowned, trying to work out if Kade’s words were some kind of backhanded compliment. Kade thought Sev was better than a soldier? The idea made him stand taller, even as he realized that Kade was mistaken.
“I . . . This is what I am, Kade. Sorry it’s not good enough for you.”
“I know what you are,” Kade said slowly, almost threateningly. “And it’s not this. This”—he gestured carelessly at Sev’s raider uniform—“is what you chose to be.”
It took Sev’s body several moments to catch up with his mind. When it did, Kade had marched out of his reach, and Sev was forced to stomp after him.
“Hey,” he said harshly, gripping Kade by the upper arm and turning him around. Sev was breathing hard—harder than he should when he’d walked only a few short feet. His heart was pounding in his chest, and there was a tinny ringing in his ears.
Kade stopped so abruptly that Sev’s momentum carried him forward, and they almost bumped chests. Kade’s body was tense, poised as if ready for a blow.
“What choice?” Sev asked, trying to be reasonable. “I didn’t enlist—they forced me into the military. I could either live as a soldier or die as a laborer in the dank mines of Ferro or the sunbaked fields of Stel.”
Kade’s eyes sparked, and standing this close, Sev could pick out shades of amber and russet, warm against his black lashes and heavy brow. His angular face, twisted in rage, became even sharper.
“Not the choice I was talking about, soldier,” Kade said, speaking through tight lips. He shrugged off Sev’s hand, which had still been gripping his biceps, but then he stepped closer, his voice whisper-soft. “You think I don’t see—that I don’t know what you are, animage?”
Sev’s stomach dropped, and the ground seemed to buck and dip beneath him. He staggered back. Kade knew Sev was an animage. Had Trix told him? Or had Sev been that obvious?
“You can pat the animals and get them their feed, you can talk and laugh with the other bondservants, but you’re not one of us. You denied that part of yourself—that’s the choice you made. So you don’t get to play both sides. You don’t get to be a soldier and a friend to animages—it’s o
ne or the other.”
Sev had made a choice long ago to pretend he wasn’t an animage, to hide his magic and suffer the consequences. He’d chosen to be a coward, to “not care” about the world, because it was easier than fighting. It was survival—or so he’d thought.
Animages like Kade had made a different choice. They’d rather risk bondage than hide who they were, and their bravery shamed him.
Worst of all, it shamed his parents, who had died for Sev. They had given themselves to the Phoenix Riders, to their fellow animages, and by denying that part of himself, he denied them as well.
Sudden heat pricked at the back of Sev’s eyes, and before Kade could see more of his weakness, Sev pushed past him, bumping Kade’s shoulder as he lurched away, past the line of animals and into the forest.
Pacing back and forth between the trees, Sev gripped his head. The memory descended upon him like a heavy cloak, and in a blink, he was back home again.
Back where everything had gone wrong.
It had been two years since the end of the Blood War. Animages were fleeing the Golden Empire, making for the recently separated province of Pyra, and Sev’s family lived right on the border. They kept the empire’s forces back and helped families flee persecution.
It was less about politics, his father had said, and more about people. By making herself an enemy of the empire, Avalkyra Ashfire had made all animages enemies of the empire—whether they were Riders or not. The magical registry was being put violently into effect, and the empire was rounding up animages in droves, accusing them of rebel sympathies, of being traitors and conspirators.
It was only a matter of time before the soldiers came for Sev’s parents and the rest of Hillsbridge, their small village. Before they came for Sev.
He’d been playing in the fields when he saw the soldiers approaching in the distance. His parents had always been very clear: If he saw empire soldiers, he was supposed to run back to the house. He was supposed to stay safe.
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