Veronyka frowned. “I thought you wanted to forget all that?” she asked warily.
“This isn’t a trick. I . . .” His expression turned even grimmer. “I’m not like my father. I don’t want to be like my father. I’m not trying to embarrass you in return or to prove a point. I mean what I say.”
Veronyka nodded, understanding him at last. He wasn’t being manipulative; he was simply expressing himself—without ulterior motive. The day he’d found her, he’d been angry and frustrated, and his scowling face and argumentative words had told the story. Yesterday he had been humiliated, and so that was how he’d behaved, lashing out at her. Now he wanted to start over, so he had apologized and was inviting her help. He might be one of the most honest people she’d ever met.
It made her uneasy. She wondered how he’d feel if he knew she was a liar.
“Okay,” she said, peering around for a stick.
“There should be some in the bushes over there. Did you use your magic on the animals yesterday or just make the sound?”
“I didn’t use my magic. All I did was distract them. . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she realized the thing she’d noticed about him, his change in energy. It wasn’t just his attitude.
It was his magic.
Veronyka reached out to the animals, confirming her suspicion. His pressure, his hold on them . . . it was different from yesterday. The dog and the bird had a loose understanding of what was happening beyond what they remembered from doing the course before. Wind, too, was familiar with the exercise, but even so, the magic that told him to stand still and be calm wasn’t a forceful push. . . . It was a request.
“Right,” Tristan said, straightening in the saddle, oblivious to her revelation. “Do it whenever you want, and I’ll try to keep them focused.”
“Don’t prepare them for it,” Veronyka warned, tugging a branch from a tangle of weeds and walking backward to the target. “That’s cheating.”
She actually heard him chuckle. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
There was a hurdle coming up where horse and rider had to weave through a series of staggered poles jutting from the ground, and Veronyka decided this was when she’d make her move. She waited until he was about to finish, then hit the target as hard as she could. The sound echoed loudly, and she turned to see what Tristan did next.
The horse’s ears went flat, and the dog barked. Veronyka threw the stick into the air, and the dog leapt away from Wind—only to pause halfway across the clearing. Tristan was sweating, keeping Wind on course and the pigeon on his shoulder, and she could sense his pressure was increasing.
“Focus on the dog,” Veronyka found herself calling, remaining as still as she could. “You already have the bird and the horse—trust them, and focus on the dog.”
Tristan frowned, then gave her a small nod. His eyes closed. A heartbeat later the dog yipped and whirled around to rejoin him.
Tristan’s eyes flew open, lips parted in surprise, and Veronyka cheered. Overhead, Rex let out a musical screech, and a trail of fire streaked out behind him. Tristan looked up, watching his phoenix’s fiery arc across the sky, before looking back down at Veronyka.
He smiled at her, and the sight nearly knocked her off her feet. It transformed his usually haughty expression into something boyish and carefree. His cheeks dimpled on either side, and his brown eyes glittered with triumph. He looked like some mythical hero again, as he had the first time she’d seen him—except this time it was his smile that shattered the fanciful illusion, and not the fact that his drawn spear was leveled at her.
Veronyka swallowed, realizing that he had said something—and she hadn’t heard a word.
“P-pardon me?” she said, still slightly dazed.
His smile twisted into a quizzical frown. “I said, I think I want to have another go—can you stay?”
Veronyka did a double take. He wanted her to stay with him? Was she no longer an annoying presence, a punishment laid down by his father? Did he actually value her help? Warmth spread from her chest all the way to her fingertips.
“Of course,” she said.
He smiled gratefully, and the angry, mean boy from the days before was gone. Maybe that wasn’t who he truly was. . . . Maybe she’d had him wrong all along.
As Veronyka expected, Tristan did even better the second time around. Though the dog still turned and darted toward the stick, he didn’t move more than a few steps before Tristan got him back under control.
As they packed up, a cold wind whipped across the open field, and the lanterns atop the village gate swayed and guttered in the distance. Veronyka shivered, until a gust of warm wind enveloped her like a hug as Rex landed on the ground nearby.
Veronyka stared admiringly at the beautiful creature. His heat and his magic pulsed from him, leaving her both warm and covered in goose bumps. She couldn’t believe she’d had a phoenix of her own, for however brief a time.
Veronyka closed her eyes. Xephyra’s smoke-and-charcoal scent filled her nostrils, and her rustling feathers whispered in Veronyka’s ear. It was as comforting as a caress, as painful as a freshly opened wound.
She clenched her jaw and reinforced her walls, burying both the good and the bad.
If Veronyka had come here with her bondmate, she could be an apprentice, like Tristan. Not a servant. Not a boy.
She could be herself.
“You can pet him, if you like,” Tristan offered with a slight frown, as if he were trying to puzzle out her bizarre expression.
Veronyka hesitated, thinking about her future among the Riders. Could she really bond anew, with Xephyra still living in her heart? Could she still love the same way?
But as her gaze lit on Rex, some of the pain and anxiety disappeared from her mind—like the night’s last shadows banished by the sun.
She rested a hand on the phoenix’s neck. Rex stood tall and proud, his feathers almost hot to the touch, and softer than she’d have expected since he was full grown. While Veronyka could speak into the mind of any animal she chose, phoenixes were the only ones that had the ability to block that access—thanks to their own magic. But after a moment Rex opened himself to her, slowly and deliberately, like a flower beginning to bloom.
Veronyka’s fears all but evaporated. Yes, she could move forward. Xephyra would always be with her, and bonding with one of her brothers or sisters wouldn’t be a betrayal. Taking them into her heart would be like honoring Xephyra’s memory, not abandoning it.
Focusing on Rex, she marveled at his calm, self-assured nature. He was clearly the stable counterbalance to Tristan’s easy frustration, but the longer she remained connected to him, the more she understood that while he often calmed his bondmate, he was capable of peaks and valleys of his own. He had arrogance and a powerful temper, but humor as well.
Tristan watched them closely, and she wondered what he could sense of their interaction through his bondmate—if anything. The lines between shadow magic and regular animal magic were often difficult to discern, and mysterious at the best of times.
Coming to stand next to her, Tristan ran his hand along Rex’s neck.
“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?” he said, eyes on the scarlet feathers underneath his fingers, and not on her face.
“Say what?” Veronyka asked.
“You were right,” he said, dropping his hand and looking down at her. He sighed heavily, as if it pained him deeply to admit it. “I’ve been thinking about it all day, and when I tried it, just now . . . You were right about the animals, about the way we control them.”
Veronyka smiled, patting Rex once more before repacking their waterskins into Wind’s saddlebag.
Tristan crossed his arms over his chest. His face was almost impossible to see in the darkness.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he asked.
Her smile grew wider before she forced it down and turned to face him. “Only a little.”
He laughed, the sound as soft as a whispe
r across her skin. “Were your family Riders, then?” he asked, slinging his bow and arrows over his shoulder as they continued to pack up. “You seem to know a lot about animal magic.”
“I learned it all from my grandmother, who was a Phoenix Rider. My parents were, too, but I don’t remember them.”
They were walking toward the village now, the soft thump of the horse’s hooves and the steady pant of the dog at their feet almost lost in the swish of the grass in the evening breeze. Rex soared overhead, his warm glow like the last dregs of daylight on Veronyka’s upturned face.
“You’d be a good Rider,” Tristan said.
Veronyka’s head jerked around. “What?”
Tristan glanced at her and shrugged. “You would.”
Veronyka’s chest was suddenly tight. “But your father—the commander—said you’re not recruiting.”
“Is that all he said?”
Veronyka frowned. What did that mean? “Well, he also said that training costs money . . . that he couldn’t have poor peasant lads bonding with phoenixes but then unable to afford proper training.”
Tristan sighed. “It’s one of the first things I’d change if it were up to me.”
“What is?” Veronyka asked, her racing thoughts causing her to lose track of the conversation.
“You shouldn’t have to be rich, or sponsored, to be a Rider. Plus, we should let girls join. It would double our numbers right out the gate.”
Veronyka fought to keep her face neutral, though his words caused a tingle of heat to creep up her cheeks. “I don’t understand the rule against girls to begin with,” she said in what she hoped was an offhand voice.
Tristan shrugged. “It was practicality at first. When we began recruiting—well, it was expensive, starting up. So precedence was given to those who already had an egg, or who had the funds to purchase one of the few we had on hand. They also needed to be able to afford the food and supplies they’d need for training, and of course, any extra funding to help us rebuild the facilities was welcome. Latham—Loran’s brother,” he added, as Loran was one of the stablehands she worked with every day. Veronyka hadn’t known he was related to an apprentice—surely when the time came to recruit and gain sponsorship, Loran would have no trouble getting in. “Their mother paid for the renovations to the practice yard, and Fallon’s family supplied our first horses. The commander was also interested in those with existing combat training or weapons skills—that way we weren’t starting at zero—and most who met those qualifications happened to be boys.”
“Most, but not all?”
“Well, you know Elliot?” Tristan asked, and Veronyka nodded. “Both he and his sister wanted to join. They had the money, too. But we only had one egg available, so the commander decided to just admit him.”
“Was he better?” Veronyka demanded, unable to keep the scathing note from her voice.
“He was the older of the two,” Tristan said. “And seemed more eager, but he was pretty devastated when his sister was rejected. I guess it was easier to have no girls than one girl. . . .”
Veronyka seethed, but she didn’t say anything. The commander’s reasoning was flimsy. And yes, maybe the one girl Rider would have had to sleep with the female servants in their barracks, but was that really such an inconvenience? Even in the days of the empire, the Phoenix Riders had always mimicked the natural social structure of wild phoenixes, flying in smaller groups that were responsible for defending a given territory, and mated pairs were kept together. Older, solitary phoenixes often remained in the mating grounds and training complexes, helping to care for the hatchlings and tend the young. The gender divide wasn’t something they practiced or acknowledged—patrols trained, slept, and ate together, whatever their sex.
Valley logic, Val would call it. The mountain-born Pyraeans had been the only matriarchal monarchy in the region, and their laws and customs were hard for some of the men of the valley kingdoms to swallow.
“But we’ll have to change eventually,” he continued. “We could make do without a horse for every Rider. We could modify old saddles and tack and start using obsidian arrowheads and spear points, which are cheaper than steel. Some time, sooner or later, the empire will learn that we’ve regrouped, and they’ll come for us.”
“And he just plans to sit here and wait for them? What’s the point of being tucked away up here when our people are in bondage in the valley?”
“You’re right,” he said heavily, a note of frustration in his voice. “But two Rider patrols and ten apprentices don’t make an army. We need to grow our numbers first, give the apprentices time to develop their skills. If we showed our faces in the empire now, we’d be slaughtered, and do more damage than good. Even still,” he said, seeing Veronyka open her mouth to interject, “I’ve been pushing to become a Master Rider . . . ideally, the next patrol leader. That way we can graduate some of the older boys and make a third patrol. Hopefully after that we can open up recruitment and take on more apprentices.”
Veronyka’s blood was like lightning in her veins. “Will he listen to you? How many new recruits could you take on?”
Something in Tristan’s gaze flickered, and Veronyka sensed hesitation when he replied. “It’s—I don’t know. We probably shouldn’t be talking about this.”
“You’re the one who said—”
“I know what I said. But I’m just an apprentice. It’s not my place to talk about or criticize the commander’s protocols.”
They walked on in silence for several moments. Veronyka chewed her lip.
Tristan wanted to change things here, to allow boys and girls, even the poor ones, to join. That sounded like the Phoenix Riders Veronyka had grown up on, the kind of Phoenix Riders she wanted to be a part of.
“Why haven’t you become one yet?” Veronyka asked, breaking the silence. “A Master Rider or a patrol leader?”
Tristan laughed without humor. “The commander doesn’t think I’m ready.”
Veronyka thought about this. They’d have to show him that Tristan was ready. Maybe if they really pushed hard during these evening exercises, she could help him achieve his goal. And her goal too. She was still poor, but maybe as a patrol leader, Tristan could have more say in who they recruited and who was sponsored.
Veronyka knew it was a long shot, but if they were going to be doing all this extra training anyway . . . wasn’t it worth trying?
“How long do you think the commander wants us to work together?” she asked, an idea forming in the back of her mind. They’d arrived at the stables, Veronyka opening the gate to guide Wind back inside, while Tristan undid the latch to the fenced area where the dogs slept.
Closing it behind the hound, he followed her into the stables, a frown on his face. “I don’t know. Probably until his next inspection. He attends our lessons once a month, so maybe by his next visit he’ll decide if I’ve been sufficiently punished,” he said, smirking slightly at the last word, as if the idea was laughable now. It made her smile too. “Why?”
As Veronyka removed Wind’s saddle and placed it on the rack, Tristan picked up a brush and started grooming the animal. He seemed to do it absently, as if helping her with her chores wasn’t something he had to think about.
“No reason,” she said, removing Wind’s bridle. Tristan continued to frown at her, so she shrugged as she said, “It’ll be a good opportunity, that’s all.”
Tristan stopped brushing to stare at her over the animal’s back. “Opportunity for what?”
“To prove him wrong.”
When Pyraean Queen Elysia (9 BE–37 AE) set her sights on expanding into the valley, she knew that alliances, not conquests, were the best way to protect her people and their future. With four royal sisters eligible for marriage, as well as herself, she intended to secure such treaties through wedlock.
The “Five Brides” have often been credited as crucial to the founding of the empire, for it was through these matches that they were able to unify many of the lesser kingdoms
in a peaceful fashion. Hence Queen Elysia became known as the Peacemaker.
While her sisters married for duty and for position in this new world, it is said that Elysia herself married for love. When she and her sisters flew to Ferro to undergo peace negotiations with King Damian, they discovered that he was under attack by the neighboring Stellan kingdom of Rolland.
They traveled with haste to the battlefield, where King Damian and King Rol were locked in combat. When Queen Elysia landed among them, her four sisters beside her, the battle ground to a halt—none in the valley had ever seen such a sight as flaming firebirds with fierce, beautiful women astride them, descending like fallen stars.
As the soldiers on either side began to scatter, Queen Elysia faced the two kings. King Damian bowed at the sight of her, showing the respect that was her due. King Rol, on the other hand, took advantage of the moment of distraction and stabbed King Damian in the back. Before he could finish the job, Queen Elysia lunged forward, blocking his blade with her obsidian dagger. When Rol tried to run, the youngest of the sisters, Princess Darya, put an arrow in his chest. Though there would be decades of strife between the Stellan kings and Pyraean queens, many trace their enmity back to this solitary event in history.
As King Damian stood face-to-face with Queen Elysia, it was clear that he saw more than just a fiery warrior queen—he saw his future bride.
—“The Reign of Queen Elysia the Peacemaker,” from The Early Years of the Golden Empire by Winry, High Priestess of Mori, published 79 AE
It is a fact of life that one must kill or be killed. Rule or be ruled. Win or lose.
- CHAPTER 20 -
Crown of Feathers Page 21
