“I’m sorry, sir,” Tristan said in appropriate chagrin. “Please, do let me know when and where that is.”
Veronyka groaned internally and had to press her lips together to stop the grimace—or was that a smile?—that was trying to force its way through.
The commander stared at his son, nostrils flaring. “Clearly you are not taking your training seriously. Perhaps it’s time for my inspection. I know it’s a week early, but I’m quite eager to see how far you’ve come and if your extra lessons have taught you anything of value. I do hope you’re prepared, Tristan. I’d hate for you to make a fool of yourself . . . again. I’ll see you in one hour’s time, Apprentice.”
Veronyka’s anxiety was like a wild animal burrowing inside her stomach as she stood next to the obstacle course with the rest of the stablehands.
It wasn’t Tristan’s abilities that had Veronyka’s insides tied in knots—it was the commander’s reaction she most feared. Even if Tristan executed the course flawlessly, it might not be enough. The commander was always hard on his son, but after he saw Tristan skip a lesson this morning—and assumed that Tristan wasn’t taking his training seriously—Veronyka worried he’d be impossible to please.
Commander Cassian was just like her sister, and people like Val didn’t do what was right for the sake of it. The commander was a shrewd man, but more than that, he was controlling. And for whatever reason, he didn’t want Tristan to be a patrol leader. Instead he used the possibility of that prize as a means to keep his son in line. No matter how well Tristan performed, the commander wouldn’t give that up unless he absolutely had to, unless Tristan gave him no other choice. But could they push the commander to that decision?
When he called the apprentices to attention, Veronyka noticed commotion at the village gate in the distance. Beryk and the rest of the Master Riders, dressed in their full armor and riding leathers, were walking toward the obstacle course. The commander smiled as the apprentices whispered and pointed—clearly he’d asked the patrol members to come and watch, and the students had known nothing about it.
Perfect, Veronyka thought with grim satisfaction. She wanted to force the commander’s hand, and what better way to do that than in front of an audience that could hold him accountable? There’s no way the commander could maintain that Tristan wasn’t skilled enough if the entire Rider force—apprentices and masters alike—saw him excel. Veronyka just needed to give them incontrovertible proof. Tristan couldn’t simply do what the rest were doing. . . . He had to go above and beyond.
The commander spoke a few words and indicated that he’d invited the Master Riders so that they could “see what you lads have been up to,” but Veronyka recognized manipulation when she saw it. The commander had invited the small crowd for added pressure, not to satisfy the Riders’ idle curiosity.
Still, they did appear interested, leaning against the paddock fence as the apprentices lined up and prepared to demonstrate their skills on the course. Unlike with their first run-through several weeks ago, they were expected to attempt the final flourish and have their phoenixes ignite at the end.
Veronyka knew this would be Tristan’s true challenge.
He had done it multiple times in their extra practice sessions, but now the pressure was higher than ever before.
As Anders began the exercise, one of the stablehands rushed to latch the gate shut before a hound slipped out. It was Petyr, and though he managed to close it in time, it gave Veronyka an idea.
A plan began to form in her mind, a plan that was risky and downright foolish. Not to mention the fact that it had the potential to blow up in her face—and Tristan’s. She needed to talk to him, but he remained too close to the commander.
Most of the apprentices had improved, but no matter how well they did with the course, every time a phoenix ignited, horses bucked and dogs howled. Two pigeons took flight and circled back to the village, and somehow a quiver of arrows caught fire.
When Tristan guided Wind over to the beginning of the course, Veronyka rushed forward to fuss with a strap. Her hands shook with adrenaline, but she did her best to angle her body to hide her face from the audience’s view. Tristan glanced down, a perfect mask of haughty impatience on his face, though he could see quite plainly that there was nothing wrong with the saddle.
“What is it?” he whispered, pretending to help adjust a buckle.
“I’m thinking about doing something . . . reckless,” she said. She looked up at him, half hoping he’d tell her no, and she’d be free to hide behind the horses and wait until it was all over.
Instead he straightened in his seat and batted her hand away from the strap. “Okay,” he said, before wordlessly calling his hound and his pigeon. Just like that, he’d accepted her words and given her permission to do whatever mad thing she could think of.
Okay.
While everyone watched Tristan make his way through the course, Veronyka quietly moved behind them. She didn’t have a lot of time, and she’d get only one shot at this.
Though she didn’t give Tristan her full attention, she was proud at how well he was doing. She looked up whenever the others murmured in reaction to a perfect shot at the target or an expert jump over a barrel or crate. The commander shouted questions to him, as he did with the others, making sure the apprentices were connected to the phoenixes as well as the other animals.
As Tristan guided Wind through the poles near the end of the course, Veronyka knew the moment had come. Tension hung over the group as everyone remembered how badly this had gone for Tristan the last time his father was in attendance.
Rex cawed, beating his wings as he soared in a wide arc, then dipped his head and dove.
Surely my dear, sweet Onia knew I’d never bow my head.
- CHAPTER 23 -
TRISTAN
TRISTAN BRACED HIMSELF AS Rex hurtled toward the ground.
Any second his bondmate would ignite, and Tristan knew that everything depended on what happened next.
He had barely a breath to prepare himself, to reinforce the safe house in his mind, as Nyk had taught him. He’d been practicing for days, and the walls were already there, his fear ensconced within.
But that wasn’t enough. Tristan had to fill every gap and crack, ensuring his terror had no way of surfacing.
In some ways his fear was a luxury, just as his father’s favorite quote had always maintained—an indulgence he turned to in moments of weakness. But putting it in the safe house made it unreachable, protecting him from himself.
It was sort of like separating thought from emotion. . . . His rational mind knew that Rex’s fire was no danger to him, but his emotions allowed the fear to take root, to overpower his logical thoughts and turn him into a mess of nerves and anxiety and hesitation.
Tristan knew he did not like fire, and that was okay—by locking his fear up, he took control over it. In time maybe he could eliminate it completely.
But for now he would do whatever it took to get through the exercise. He clamped tight on the wall in his mind and waited.
With a searing flap of his wings, Rex burst into flame.
Tristan marveled at the way Rex exalted in his fire, able to appreciate the feelings that rippled through the bond for the first time. Fire was sacred to a phoenix, a part of their very existence. . . . Fire was life and death and power and magic, and all of it barreled through Rex, crackling in his veins as he landed before Tristan, singeing the grass at his feet.
Tristan remained perfectly upright in his saddle, his mind calm. His fear was nowhere in sight.
Exhilarated, he checked in with the other animals, noting their fear and hesitation but keeping them steady and under control—until a surge of energy drew his attention to the paddock.
The horses inside jumped and tossed their heads—as they had each time a phoenix ignited—but somehow the latch had come undone, and horses were streaming from the gate.
Several of the stableboys tried to stop them, but Tristan could sw
ear that Nyk was only pretending to join in, reaching a hand half-heartedly as the animals barreled past.
Ah. So, this was his reckless plan. Why had Tristan blindly agreed to this? With a calm he didn’t know he possessed, Tristan pushed a slow, even breath out through his lips.
One . . . two . . . three horses were freed before Jana closed the gate, and even as Tristan told himself not to panic, that he could handle a few extra horses, he noticed the half a dozen hounds that had snuck out with them.
He was going to kill Nyk.
Everyone was looking around at one another, trying to decide what to do. Even the commander stepped forward, clearly intending to intervene, but with a curious glance at Tristan, Beryk restrained him.
So, they were going to let him try.
Closing his eyes, Tristan blocked out the commotion around him and focused on the animals. Again listening to Nyk’s advice, Tristan trusted that Wind, the first hound, and the pigeon would remain in position, and sought the other animals instead. He’d never tried to manage so many at once, but then again, when he looked at it the way Nyk did—not constantly putting pressure on each one, but rather reaching out to them individually, making his request and then receding—it wasn’t nearly so strenuous. Both the dogs and the horses had been through this multiple times before, so once Tristan reminded them of their duty to behave and remain still, they were much easier to get under control.
It was a bit like gardening. Tristan’s mother had loved flowers, and their house had always smelled of roses and violets and bloodred Fire Blossoms. He’d helped Old Ana tend his mother’s garden after she died—though being so young, he had no doubt he’d been more hindrance than help—and when they’d left home for good, he and Old Ana planted new flowers outside the village. According to her, it was more about being a guiding hand, not a constant overseer—and animal magic was the same. Just as the plants would naturally reach for the sun, so animals instinctually sought out animages.
While some resisted his touch more than others, eventually the freed horses slowed their pace and looped back around, while the hounds yipped once or twice before doing the same. Sweat trailed down Tristan’s forehead, but he ignored the mental and physical strain as he reined in the disorder around him.
A hush fell over the group as, one by one, horses and hounds lined up alongside Tristan, creating a half circle of perfectly obedient animals.
Tristan gave Rex a final command; the phoenix lowered his head, and with one last flap of his wings, his fire went out.
It was as if a bubble of silence had popped, and the world burst to life around him once more. The apprentices and Riders cheered, rushing forward to congratulate him, while the stableboys moved to recapture the escaped animals.
The commander stayed put, and as Tristan dismounted, he heard Beryk say, “That’s mighty impressive, Commander—I couldn’t do that.”
Tristan was pleased, if exhausted, but he tried to smile and nod as he waded through the crush of bodies, distracted.
Finally the crowd parted, and his eyes fell on Nyk.
He gave Tristan that familiar, shy smile—clearly unsure if Tristan was going to thank him or strangle him for his so-called reckless plan.
Despite wanting to murder him in the moment, Tristan felt nothing but overwhelming gratitude. Yes, mastering the escaped animals had been challenging, but it was the silent, unknown battle that Tristan was proudest of. The battle only Nyk knew about.
For the first time in his memory, Tristan had faced a phoenix in full flame, and he hadn’t hesitated. He wanted to shout from the mountaintop, to roar his triumph and exhilaration for all to hear.
Instead Tristan pushed the others aside, determination propelling him forward.
He barreled into Nyk, throwing his arms around him as the noise receded and there was nothing but the two of them, pressed together.
“You did it,” Nyk gasped, apparently surprised by Tristan’s sudden, fierce embrace.
Remembering the crowd around them, Tristan drew back, avoiding Nyk’s curious expression, and forced an easy smile. “Thanks to you.”
When gentle King Hellund married ferocious Queen Genya, there was much celebration and fanfare in the empire—though the newly minted queen was not there to see it.
The instant the ink dried on their marriage contract, the young bride leapt onto the back of her phoenix, Exiline, leaving her groom behind. With fine silk and Fire Blossoms trailing in her wake, she hunted down the infamous group of bandits that had been terrorizing her beloved’s reign. It was on this campaign that she earned the nickname “the General,” and it wasn’t long until she returned home triumphant.
In a bold romantic gesture, she presented the severed head of the gang leader to her husband as a belated wedding gift, and he promptly fainted into his barley soup.
—A popular cookhouse tale
We were Shadow Twins, half sisters, but we couldn’t have been more different.
- CHAPTER 24 -
VERONYKA
VERONYKA DIDN’T KNOW WHAT to do with herself that night. She was dying to know what—if anything—had happened with Tristan and the commander, but she hadn’t seen either of them since the obstacle course.
She still couldn’t believe how well everything had played out—the planned and unplanned parts, like the accidental release of the hounds. She’d been so focused on the horses, ensuring only a handful escaped, that she’d completely forgotten about the dogs. One moment they were on the far side of the paddock, quite absorbed in chasing and snapping at one another, and the next they were barreling through the gate along with the horses and causing an additional distraction Veronyka wasn’t sure Tristan would be able to handle.
But he had. He’d taken it all in stride, pushing outward with his magic while trusting the animals he already had under his power. Even in the face of Rex’s crackling flames, Tristan had been the picture of confidence and control.
He’d been magnificent.
Veronyka kept thinking about the way he’d hugged her afterward, the gleam of triumph—and something else she couldn’t quite place—sparkling in his eye. Her heart had stopped at first, the thought of her bound breasts pressing against him making her dizzy. But he didn’t seem to notice, and then before she knew it, they were apart again. The other apprentices had pushed in, and Veronyka had stepped aside to attend to her duties.
Now she awaited the commander’s verdict. Whether he decided Tristan was ready to lead a patrol or not, Veronyka was quite certain he would deem their extra lessons no longer necessary.
The thought caused an unexpected pang of sadness. Their nightly time together had transformed from something to dread into something she spent her entire day looking forward to. From their first meeting, Tristan’s success and progress had been tangled up in her own, and though they had embraced their fate and willingly helped each other, they would no longer be required to train together. If he became a patrol leader, his daily schedule would change, and he probably wouldn’t have time to practice with her at all.
Needing some fresh air after the dinner that Tristan and the commander did not attend, Veronyka decided to take Wind for a walk out to the obstacle course. It was the one place Tristan might go looking for her, and besides, Wind had grown accustomed to the nighttime exercise and had been emanating impatient thoughts from the stables all evening. Veronyka reasoned that even if Tristan never turned up, she could try riding Wind on her own.
The horse snorted in irritation as Veronyka tried to mount up. She’d been watching closely as the other apprentices rode their horses and thought she could mimic the basics. However, after three attempts she dragged one of the crates over from the nearest obstacle and used it to climb into the saddle.
She tried to steer Wind to the right, but pulled too hard on the reins, causing the horse to toss his head. Veronyka loosened her grip, focusing on her right leg instead. It worked, but when she looked up, it was to see that he’d turned them around in a complete circ
le. Using her animal magic, she told him to stop, then remembered she wasn’t supposed to do that and told him to ignore her. And so he kept turning to the right, taking them around for a second loop.
“Are you lost?” said a voice from nearby, and Veronyka stiffened. Wind stopped his movement as Tristan appeared, putting a gentle hand on the horse’s head. He smirked up at her. “The course is over there.”
“Tell the horse that,” Veronyka muttered, face hot with embarrassment.
“Wind.” Tristan’s smile widened. “His name is Wind.”
Veronyka scowled, remembering when she’d told him off for the same thing.
Bite him, Veronyka thought to Wind, who angled his head, sizing up Tristan’s bare forearm. She hastily called him off and dismounted. Luckily, she didn’t fall.
“So, where have you been all night?” she asked. “I didn’t see you at the dining hall.”
“Eating with the commander,” he said, petting Wind absently.
“And?” Veronyka pressed. His reluctance to speak was making her even more impatient to get the information out of him.
“He wanted to—very grudgingly—congratulate me on my progress. I told him I had the extra lessons to thank for that,” he said, and Veronyka fought the grin that tugged at her mouth. “And he thought I was being insolent. So, really, a typical conversation for us.”
Veronyka laughed.
“After that, he promised I could be a patrol leader.”
“Tristan, that’s great!” Veronyka said, wanting to touch him but hesitating when she caught sight of Tristan’s peculiar expression. He was still smiling, but it looked somewhat forced—as though he were pleased, but something was holding him back from true happiness.
“What’s wrong?” Veronyka asked.
He tossed his shoulders in a dismissive shrug. “He said I can’t graduate to my new position yet.”
Crown of Feathers Page 25
