Veronyka looked over her shoulder, noticing the crowd of people there for the first time.
Apprentices, servants, and villagers were huddled near the entrance to the dining hall, where they had undoubtedly spilled out in reaction to Xephyra’s fierce shrieks.
Stronghold guards were there too, with bows and spears pointed directly at the newly appeared firebird.
A spasm of fear—hers or Xephyra’s, she wasn’t sure—pulled Veronyka off her knees and onto her feet. Her mind was galloping in a hundred directions at once, and the reappearance of her bondmate did nothing to quell the confusion inside.
Veronyka clenched her teeth and focused.
Xephyra was in danger here—the phoenix sensed it, and it made her behave wildly, which only put her in greater danger. Unless bonded, phoenixes were erratic, unpredictable creatures, and the stronghold guards were on high alert because of that fact. One wrong move, and this could turn very, very bad.
Veronyka had to get Xephyra to calm down. Once her bondmate was under control, the guards would stand down, and the immediate threat would be neutralized.
Taking a shaky step forward, she reached out with her hands as well as her magic.
“Nyk, no!” Tristan shouted, though it sounded as if it came from a lifetime away. She supposed it did. Tristan existed in a world where Veronyka was Nyk, and Nyk had no phoenix. But that’s not where Veronyka truly was. No, Veronyka was here and now, reunited with her dead bondmate and afraid for her life.
When she made contact with Xephyra’s mind, Veronyka staggered—it was bizarrely unfamiliar, and yet nothing had really changed. It had the feeling of a childhood home that was now inhabited by new people—it was at once exactly the same and astoundingly different. It was a miraculous thing to realize that the bond survived death, but their connection wasn’t unchanged by it.
It was clear that Xephyra was wary too, and confused by their reunion. Veronyka kept seeing herself in her phoenix’s mind—long black braids, the cottage, their pallet on the floor—and she seized the images.
Yes, it’s me, she said, pressing a hand to her chest. Tears welled in her eyes as Xephyra cocked her head, hesitating. It’s me.
Veronyka sensed the commotion around her, felt the shifting bodies and shuffling feet, but she blocked it all out. All that mattered was her and Xephyra. With every second they spent staring at each other, their flickering, fragile bond strengthened. But no matter the soothing thoughts and comforting emotions Veronyka funneled through their link, Xephyra refused to settle. Her hackles were up, her instincts on high alert, and the upheaval in the courtyard did nothing to stifle her fears.
“Step aside, boy!” came the commander’s voice, like a general on a battlefield, breaking Veronyka’s concentration.
A metallic scraping noise sounded, sending a sliver of foreboding down Veronyka’s spine. She craned her neck, searching for the source, and spotted two guards holding a length of greasy-looking iron links.
A net.
“No—please,” Veronyka cried, but before she could say or do anything more, Xephyra panicked and reared up, sending a sweltering wave of heat and sparks over the crowd.
Veronyka raised an arm to protect her face, shocked at the intensity of the heat. At the edges of the courtyard, bits of straw and fabric caught fire, while the onlookers gasped, rippling and recoiling from the hot air like grass in the wind. Tristan was at the forefront and had been reaching for her before Xephyra’s flames had forced him to stagger back. Val was there too; her face shone with intensity, her gaze manic, hungry, as she stared at the scene before her.
Hatred roiled in Veronyka’s gut. Val. Did she have something to do with this? Did she know all this time that Xephyra had come back?
The commander was shouting again, and the sound caused Val’s unblinking stare to falter. With one final glance at Veronyka, she allowed herself to be bumped and jostled, disappearing into the crush of bodies. Did she fear what would happen now that the commander was involved? Or did she sense Veronyka’s rage and know that it was directed at her?
“Nyk, move—you’ll be hurt,” Tristan shouted, forcing his way forward once more. “Get out of—”
Before he could finish, his head jerked up to the sky. A second later Rex ripped through the air above with a resounding screech. The phoenixes weren’t supposed to leave the Eyrie unless summoned, but it was clear that Tristan had not called his bondmate to his side. Before he could do anything, Rex was joined by another phoenix, and another, and soon the sky was alight with their flaming tracks.
Veronyka tensed. They might be there in support of Xephyra—phoenixes did not like to see one of their kind attacked—but they were only making the situation worse. Their presence was fanning the flames of her bondmate’s already wild emotions, and as they dipped and soared, weaving a mesh of fire above, Xephyra expelled a great rush of heat and flame in response.
No, Xephyra! Veronyka shouted through the bond as the guards closed in and panic seized her heart. Calm down, and everything will be fine. Just calm—
But Xephyra was too far gone. She reared up again, backing away from the surging guards and bumping into the side of a storage shed. Barrels went flying and beams of wood caught fire. If Veronyka didn’t get Xephyra under control, the stronghold would burn.
An arrow whizzed by Xephyra’s head, meant to scare her back and away from the other wooden buildings, but the sight of it drove icy fear deep into Veronyka’s bones. She held her breath as another arrow flew in the same direction, and then a third, which veered slightly off course just as Xephyra staggered forward. It grazed the muscle of her wing and zipped past; there was a scream—and it came from Veronyka’s own throat. She fell to the ground again, and a strong arm slipped around her stomach, heaving her backward.
“No!” Veronyka shouted, shoving the arm—which belonged to Tristan—aside as she got laboriously to her feet. Her wild eyes flitted from Xephyra to the guards with their raised weapons, to the phoenixes above, and back down to the flames licking across the ground. “No, no—stop!”
And everyone did.
The entire yard stilled for a strange infinitesimal moment, just long enough for Veronyka to realize that she’d accidentally used shadow magic. To command. To control.
The knowledge sent shock waves through her, and as if released from a trance, the crowd expelled its collective breath. No one seemed to have noticed what had happened . . . no one except for Val. She was staring at Veronyka as if she’d never seen her before.
Veronyka didn’t have time to spare for her sister. She whirled around, seeking out Xephyra, who was still motionless from Veronyka’s magic—though her flesh continued to hiss and crackle with heat.
The sight of her like that made Veronyka’s throat ache. Not only had she apparently commanded a crowd of people, but she’d commanded her bondmate, a thing she’d sworn she’d never do.
There was a gust of air, bringing with it the tang of steel. The net whooshed over Veronyka’s head and settled onto Xephyra with a heavy, metallic rattle that echoed in the courtyard. She flapped her wings and snapped at the links, but it did no good.
Veronyka lunged for her, but the sudden movement caused black spots to speckle her vision. She’d used too much magic, depleting herself, and she staggered into Tristan.
“Where are they taking her?” she demanded, using Tristan for balance as she struggled to see over the crowd of guards closing in on her bondmate. He avoided her eye, his expression grim. “Where are they—Commander!” she shouted, spotting the man as he crossed the courtyard and releasing her grasp on Tristan to follow him.
The commander turned, and then nodded, as if he’d been expecting her. “Good,” he said, his gaze flicking over her shoulder to where Tristan stood. “Both of you, come with me.”
Veronyka didn’t want to leave Xephyra. But she needed answers, and the commander was the only person who would have them. Still, her heart thudded painfully as she left her bondmate behind. They had only trapped Xephy
ra because they thought her a danger. Once she calmed down, they’d release her.
She told herself that over and over again, though her chest remained tight.
The instant the door shut behind them in the commander’s meeting room, Veronyka spoke. “What are they doing with her?” she asked as Cassian moved to stare out the window into the courtyard below. The smell of burnt wood wafted in, along with the sounds of sweeping brooms and scraping shovels. “You have to tell me where they’re taking her.”
The commander raised his brows in a puzzled look. That’s when it hit her. . . . He didn’t know. Nobody had figured it out yet. Veronyka’s pulse quickened. To everyone here, Xephyra was an unbonded, wild female phoenix, and Nyk was just a stableboy that had been caught in the crossfire.
“The phoenix is a her, then?” asked Tristan, looking between them. Yes, the phoenix was a her, and Veronyka knew exactly what they did with female phoenixes at the Eyrie. “So she’ll be put . . .”
“In the breeding enclosure,” the commander finished with a curt nod, taking a seat in his chair.
Veronyka’s stomach roiled. This . . . She couldn’t let it happen. She had to tell them, explain to them that the female phoenix was bonded—to her.
But that would mean revealing herself as a liar and risking her position here. All she’d worked for . . . gone. Whether she had a phoenix or not, she needed Tristan’s support in order to become a new recruit, and she knew he’d feel betrayed by her deception. He had shared his most shameful fears, and Veronyka had been too cowardly to reciprocate.
It wasn’t just her lies, either; there was the how of it. She’d used shadow magic to deceive Morra, and it was a notoriously distrusted ability. She wasn’t just a liar, but a shadowmage as well. Trust was paramount in a Rider patrol. Trust was everything. And if no one trusted her, no one would want to sponsor her.
She’d have a phoenix to ride, but she’d be no Phoenix Rider.
Veronyka’s thoughts were spiraling out of control. Surely they wouldn’t turn away a bonded pair. . . . Surely there was a way to make this work.
“ . . . time we discuss Nyk’s position here.”
With a jolt Veronyka realized that the commander had been speaking, and now both he and Tristan were looking at her. She replayed the last few words she’d heard. Nyk’s position here.
Veronyka looked at the commander. If her position was in question, then he must have figured out her secret after all. The knot in her chest loosened somewhat. Maybe it was for the best. Better to get it over with, to squash her dreams once and for all. She might never be a part of the Phoenix Riders, but at least she could do right by her bondmate and get her out of that cage.
“He deserves to be a new recruit,” Tristan said, and Veronyka stared at him. Here he was, standing by her, when their entire relationship was about to be torn to shreds. “I know we don’t have eggs,” Tristan added hastily, before his father could point out the obvious, “but Nyk more than displayed his capability as an animage tonight. To have talent like that working in the stables is a waste.”
“I quite agree,” the commander said. Tristan’s mouth snapped shut, and even Veronyka found herself shocked into stillness. “The boy should not be tending the horses and the hounds, not when his connection to the phoenixes is so strong.”
So the commander hadn’t figured her out. Veronyka’s head was spinning.
“Maybe we can start a secondary apprentice unit,” Tristan said eagerly, pulling out the nearest chair and taking a seat, heartened by his father’s attitude. “One where Rider hopefuls can get a jump on training. They could participate in weapons and combat exercises, our fitness regimen, and observe the rest of us when we ride our mounts. In the meantime, I could put together a third patrol to go hunting for more eggs. If we had permission to skip lessons for a week or two, I bet we could—”
“You’re missing the point here, Tristan,” the commander said, loosening the buttons at the collar of his embroidered tunic and relaxing into his chair. “We’ve just captured a third female. With any luck, we’ll have a clutch of eggs before the winter solstice. There’s no need to go gallivanting across Pyrmont.”
He was talking about Xephyra as if she were a broodmare, as if her only purpose was to be a container for phoenix eggs, a kiln for baking precious warriors, and not a phoenix in her own right. It made Veronyka’s blood boil.
“But the cages don’t work. How many years are we going to keep those females locked up before you accept that?”
“And when will you accept that I will not grant you a patrol just so you can traipse across the countryside and get yourself killed?” the commander said, slamming his hands on the table.
A tense silence fell.
Tristan’s chest was rising and falling rapidly, his lips parted as if he meant to loose a defiant retort. After staring intensely at his father for several weighted breaths, he closed his mouth and dropped his gaze.
Veronyka studied the pair of them. She had never before considered the possibility that it was love that made Commander Cassian hold Tristan back. She was surprised she hadn’t recognized it before, for it resembled Val’s behavior in some ways. How easily a person could convince themselves they were doing the right thing, no matter the damage they did to the person they supposedly cared about, if it was out of love.
But while Veronyka wasn’t sure if Val could truly love anything or anyone, she believed that the commander did. He’d lost his wife under terrible circumstances. It wasn’t hard to understand why he wouldn’t want his son to risk his life for the same cause that had claimed her.
“What, then, Commander Cassian?” Tristan asked, looking up again. “We sit here and wait?”
Now that Tristan’s voice was steady and his anger in check, the commander removed his hands from the table and sat back in his chair. He seemed pleased to have regained control of the situation and forced a determinedly light smile. “For tonight? We celebrate. We won’t go hunting like a pack of wild dogs or train dozens of new recruits, stretching ourselves beyond our means. Instead we will use the resources we have available to us. Given the display I saw this evening, the best course of action is to move Nyk from the stables to the enclosure. I believe his gifts will make the greatest impact there, and with a third female, our luck will surely begin to change.”
Veronyka’s body went cold, like she’d been plunged into an icy lake.
“The enclosure . . . ,” Tristan repeated, his eyes flicking to Veronyka. “You want Nyk to serve in the breeding cages with the females? But—”
“Furthermore,” the commander continued, his voice rising and betraying his simmering anger, telling Veronyka that he hadn’t forgotten his earlier argument with his son, “as you seem so determined to assume a patrol, I think it’s time you showed me what kind of leadership you are capable of. As you know, the best leaders do so by example. You have put a premium on new eggs, and so you shall volunteer your phoenix for the next round of mating attempts. Your bondmate, Rex, has long since reached full maturity. He would make an ideal candidate for breeding, don’t you think? Perhaps together with your friend Nyk, you can encourage a union that results in new eggs and new Riders. You are dismissed.”
Like an anchor, love will hold fast in a storm, but it can also pull you under.
- CHAPTER 30 -
VERONYKA
VERONYKA BARELY HEARD ANYTHING as Tristan tried to argue. There was a roaring in her ears, a rush that drowned out all thought and feeling. Too much had happened that day, too many shocks and surprises and gut-wrenching realizations.
Xephyra was alive. Axura above, Veronyka’s bondmate was alive. This should be a night of joy—of pure, perfect euphoria.
But it wasn’t. As much as she reveled at being reunited with her bondmate, everything was weighed down by dread.
She’d made a terrible mistake.
She should have told Xephyra to leave, should have sent her away the moment she recognized her. But when the guards surr
ounded them, she’d thought only of calming Xephyra, certain that the danger was in her phoenix’s volatile reactions, not in her obedience.
Rather than telling Xephyra to flee, Veronyka, in a panic, had commanded her to stay. All this time she’d abhorred and refused that kind of power, and then she’d gone and used it in the worst possible way. It was their bond that had drawn Xephyra to the stronghold in the first place, and Veronyka’s command that ensured her capture.
She’d been told to report to the Eyrie the following morning. It was almost like a dream come true. Almost.
Veronyka gripped her head to stop herself from screaming—or crying. She was worse than Val, worse than the commander. She had betrayed her own bondmate—surely there was no more severe a crime than that.
And somehow her secret was still safe . . . but what did it matter? She couldn’t stay here—not with Xephyra in a cage—and as soon as she told them why Xephyra couldn’t remain inside the enclosure, it would all be over anyway.
Sour regret gripped her. She should have told them the truth, should have gotten it over with straightaway rather than allow Xephyra to remain locked up for one more minute.
But she hadn’t. She was a weak, pathetic coward. Even the thought of it was enough to make her heart stutter and her breaths grow thin. She was utterly overwrought, and she didn’t have the strength to deal with it right now.
Outside, the stronghold had gone quiet. The dining hall was empty, and the guards were back at their posts. The celebrations had been cut short; there would be no fiery phoenix dance tonight.
Val was waiting for her, seated on a barrel with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. It had grown cold, and a bitter wind whipped across the abandoned courtyard.
Veronyka ignored her sister and headed toward the barracks.
Val caught up, walking beside her in silence. After several steps, Veronyka decided she wanted to talk to her after all.
“Did you do it?” she asked, turning abruptly to face Val.
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