Ersken chuckled. “No. They were named by the commander, who has a taste for poetry, it would seem. Suppose he’ll need to name this new one now,” he added absently. Veronyka’s lips tightened at the thought of her beloved bondmate being renamed without her consent.
Ersken nodded to a lever on the far side of the enclosure, next to the opening for the food. “You can do the honors, if you’d like. That lifts the back hatch.”
Veronyka’s eyes widened. Could it be that simple? All she had to do was turn one lever, and Xephyra and the rest of the females could fly away?
Hands shaking slightly, she wrenched on the heavy switch, and a loud groaning sound reverberated through the enclosure. As she pulled down, a length of chain rattled somewhere out of sight, and the barred gate at the opposite side of the cage slowly creaked open.
With a wave of anticipation, the phoenixes took flight, though they were reminded of their chains soon enough. They tested their range once or twice, snapping and tugging at the metal leashes, before settling into the rhythm of flight. The chains were at least a hundred feet long and set on a rotating tether, which stopped them from getting tied into knots as they circled and banked around one another.
Veronyka and Ersken watched from a balcony next to the enclosure. The sky was pale blue, and the view of the gorge below was breathtaking. Jagged peaks faded into the distance in every direction, while rich greenery, growing brighter daily with the coming summer, coated the landscape.
Veronyka would miss this place. It felt more like a home than any of the houses, apartments, and cabins she and Val had lived in since they’d left their maiora behind. Even when she’d lived with her grandmother, Veronyka had been friendless and powerless on the unsafe Narrows streets. She wanted to belong here, but maybe she didn’t. Couldn’t. Maybe she’d just have to let it go.
Xephyra only flew two or three circles before she looped back around, drawn to Veronyka’s presence. Ersken staggered back as the phoenix approached, but she landed on the rock just below them. Veronyka crouched and reached out a hand, wary of the long drop.
“That one’s taken a likin’ to you, eh?” he said, frowning slightly. Unless bonded, phoenixes never took a liking to anybody. Veronyka grimaced, knowing they were in danger of revealing themselves and yet unable to turn Xephyra away. She allowed herself to pat her bondmate once before mentally encouraging her to enjoy the exercise while she could.
“She’s bonded before, I’d wager,” Ersken said as Xephyra flew off in a gust of warm air. Veronyka glanced at him warily, yet she didn’t sense any suspicion there, only a mild observation from a man who’d spent too much time with captive phoenixes. Ersken had a kindly face, and he wasn’t the nasty jailer she’d imagined. He was past middle age, barrel-chested and brown-skinned, with his graying braids pulled into a horse’s tail behind his head. His wide, owlish eyes lightened with pleasure as he watched the beautiful birds soar in the air above them, and he’d shown them a gentle hand when fastening their chains.
Veronyka hadn’t met a lot of animages—or Riders—in their thirties and forties, and it just occurred to her why that might be: Most of them had probably been killed in the war or put into bondage for their involvement with it afterward. It seemed that Pyrmont was littered with parentless children and grizzled old folks, and hardly anybody in between.
“It’s the bonded ones who’re more trusting of humans,” Ersken continued, rubbing a hand against the stubble of his chin. “Poor thing. Probably lookin’ for her bondmate and then she wound up here. Most of them will go to ash if they don’t find their Riders, though there’s a rare few that’ll search forever.”
“Go to ash?” Veronyka asked.
“Y’know . . . die. It’s a hard life for a phoenix, if they survive their bondmate. It’s a hard life for an animage, as well,” he added, and Veronyka silently agreed. He didn’t have any feathers or obsidian is his hair, so Veronyka didn’t think he’d ever been a Rider—still, he was an animage, and it wasn’t hard to imagine how the death of a bondmate could devastate a person.
“There were plenty of Rider-less phoenixes after the war, but most chose death or rebirth. Maybe some flew home, to Aura.”
Val had always spoken of the Golden City with awe and reverence, as if it were as ancient and mysterious as the stars above. While the rest of Pyrmont remained inhabited, none had lived in Aura since the Riders abandoned it almost two hundred years ago. Most, like their maiora, thought the city was cursed and haunted by ghosts, and even local Pyraeans were afraid to climb to the mountain’s highest peak.
Not Veronyka, though. Her heart thrilled at the idea of flying there herself some day, soaring among the ruins and relics of another age.
“Has the commander ever sent anyone to Aura to check?” she asked. Tristan had mentioned they’d gone looking, but she wondered just how far those searches went. “For phoenixes, or for more eggs?”
Some people believed there were hundreds—maybe even thousands—of eggs in the old capital, laid over centuries and never retrieved. Maybe the Rider-less phoenixes were there right now, hatching their young and living in peaceful seclusion. Veronyka felt guilty for wanting to disrupt them, but if there were truly caches of phoenix eggs there, ready for the taking . . . it could change everything.
Ersken made a disdainful noise in the back of his throat. “Oh, he did—or so he says—but his patrol sure came back in a hurry. Too cloudy, nowhere safe to land, strange sounds, and ‘the phoenixes didn’t like it’—more like they didn’t like it, and the phoenixes acted oddly because it called to them in strange, long-forgotten ways. But he’s valley-born,” he added conspiratorially, as if this explained all the commander’s shortcomings. Maybe it did. Veronyka didn’t want to admit that she was valley-born too, despite her Pyraean looks.
“More often than not, I find myself thinkin’ of the phoenixes below, not above,” Ersken said gravely. When Veronyka frowned at him, he continued. “Down in the valley. After the war, they usually beheaded the Riders’ mounts so they couldn’t be reborn. But other times they’d put the Rider in bondage and keep their phoenix locked up to guarantee good behavior. Some say there’s dozens of phoenixes being held prisoner by the empire, deep underground. Even if they wanted to ignite and go supernova, they’d be reborn inside their cells.”
A wave of cold crept over Veronyka, despite the warm breeze. Separating bondmates sounded like the worst kind of punishment imaginable. Worse than losing your bondmate to death, as Veronyka had already done. At least in death, one of you was at peace, even if the other had to go on living without them.
The thought made her feel desperately lonely, and she was surprised to realize it was a familiar sensation. The truth was, she’d gotten used to that feeling. Even now that Xephyra was back in her life, Veronyka was still trying to solve her problems on her own.
But Veronyka wasn’t alone. Not anymore.
The future she was fretting over would be their future, and Xephyra had a right to weigh in on it too. For better or worse, they’d make this decision together.
Since Queen Nefyra, it has been tradition for the rulers of Pyra—and eventually the Golden Empire—to fashion a new crown for their coronation.
In Aura Nova such items are on display in the Hall of Legacy, though not often available for public viewing. Some crowns are delicate as fine crystal, while others will rust and tarnish without careful preservation. It is lucky they are under the jurisdiction of the Morian Archives; otherwise they might have gone the way of many other phoenix-related relics in the wake of the Blood War and the fall of the Ashfire line.
The oldest crown on display in the Hall of Legacy dates back to Queen Elysia the Peacemaker, who has the distinction of being the only ruler to date to fashion more than one crown. The gold and obsidian circlet she wore for her coronation in Aura and throughout her conquest was abandoned the day she founded the Golden Empire. She replaced that crown with one made of materials from each newly established province, includin
g iron from Ferro, ornately carved wood from the forests of Arboria, horsehide leather from Stel, and obsidian from her homeland of Pyra. The iron, wood, and leather twisted together into a ropelike crown, dotted with shining spears of obsidian, symbolic of unity and inclusiveness, both characteristics that would define Elysia’s reign.
All the crowns that came before Elysia’s remain in the ruins of Aura, lost to the modern world. In the queendom such relics were placed upon the memorial stones for their dead queens, forever commemorating their glory.
According to Pyraean superstition, it is the restless spirits of these queens that haunt the long-abandoned Golden City, their earthly relics binding them to the cold ashes of their ancient queendom.
Notable of these lost coronets is the Fire Blossom crown of Queen Liyana, mother of Lyra the Defender, which was made of fresh pyraflora blooms that, according to legend, never withered or wilted. There was also the brutal crown of bones crafted by Queen Otiya, fashioned from her fallen enemies after a rival Rider family tried to usurp the throne. Some stories claim Queen Nefyra wore a “crown of fire,” but it is of course more likely that she wore a crown of fire glass, commonly known as obsidian.
The last crown on record is that of Avalkyra Ashfire, whose phoenix-feather circlet was lost in the Last Battle of the Blood War, just like the would-be queen herself.
—A History of the Crown, the Morian Archives, 147 AE, updated 171 AE
I had known from the outset that we were doomed, that loving her would be the greatest mistake of my life. And I loved her still.
- CHAPTER 31 -
SEV
THOUGH SEV HADN’T RECEIVED any official word, either from Trix or Captain Belden, it became clear as the days wore on that their journey was reaching its final destination. With every step he took, the paths they traveled grew narrower, the climb steeper, and the landscape wilder.
When they came to rest in a system of wide, low caves, Sev was certain it would be their basecamp. The caverns were deep and echoing, with a series of waterfalls spilling over the craggy sides to join the rest of the River Aurys somewhere down the mountainside.
Here they could leave all their extraneous packs and supplies behind, taking only what they needed to wage war. Captain Belden had obviously chosen this spot very deliberately. With the forest hemming them in, they were as secluded as they’d been so far on this journey.
It made Sev uneasy. Any manner of ill deeds could be carried out here, and the bodies would never be found.
Sev’s suspicions were soon confirmed. Two days after settling into the caves, Captain Belden called his officers together to consult maps and work out battle plans. All the soldiers away from the camp slowly trickled in, including a hunting party with Kade in tow, as well as scouts and additional lookouts.
As they took their breakfast in the watery morning sunlight, Captain Belden officially announced the purpose of their mission: They were here to defeat the empire’s enemies and eradicate the rebel force known as the Phoenix Riders.
A low hush fell over the group while Captain Belden spoke, but as soon as he returned to his tent, whispers filled the air, like wind through brittle grass.
The soldiers would begin their march the following morning, which meant that the true fight—the one Trix had carefully orchestrated—would happen tonight, during the evening meal.
A cloud of nervous energy hung over the camp for the rest of the day, as both soldiers and bondservants prepared to go to war.
For his part as a soldier, Sev was assigned to a small regiment that included Ott and Jotham. While the others napped or huddled together to sharpen blades and share battle stories, Sev remained outside by the animals.
He moved among the llamas, his mind quietly spinning. Two hundred names, two hundred packs, each with something unique inside or out to help Sev identify them. It hadn’t been easy, but he had found a way to break it down. First of all, only certain soldiers were ever chosen for perimeter guard—usually those with more experience—so Sev focused most of his energy on them. The officers’ packs were different from the regular soldiers’, and the regular soldiers had their own subdivisions—archers, spearmen, and foot soldiers like Sev. They also had hunters and trackers in their midst, with larger packs stocked with different kinds of supplies. Eventually Sev had figured it out. It was like a puzzle, a game to keep him occupied on the long marches and sleepless nights.
Jotham’s pack had a fraying strap, like the Scarecrow’s hay-stuffed tunic.
Ott’s reeked of smoking leaf and had a mysterious, dark stain across its front.
Yara’s was perfectly maintained and spotlessly clean—so much so that it stood out from the rest for its lack of identifying marks or damage.
Despite Sev’s hard work, there were still a handful he didn’t know for certain. All he could do now was hope that they weren’t the names drawn for duty tonight.
The animals were picketed together at the edge of one of the smaller caves, where they’d stored their supplies. The waterfalls were nearby, their steady rush drowning out the noise and bustle of the campsite.
“May I speak with you, soldier?”
Sev jumped, surprised to find Kade standing there, hands clasped behind his back. They hadn’t talked since the night by the fire, and Sev didn’t want to see him as he prepared to carry out the very deed Kade didn’t think he could do. Would he try to stop Sev now, when they were almost out of time?
“I . . . okay,” Sev said warily.
Kade walked toward the waterfall, glancing over his shoulder to ensure no one saw him so close to the pack animals. The ground sloped down toward the river, and he came to a stop next to a stand of trees and shrubbery that mostly blocked them from view.
He stared at Sev a moment, the steady patter of the waterfall singing around them and leaving droplets of condensation clinging to his dark hair. A shard of afternoon sunlight poked through the trees, slicing his face, showing that what Sev had taken for a stiff jaw was actually wavering, as if suppressing pent-up emotion or frustration.
“I want to explain. The other night . . .”
“You don’t want me involved, but it’s too late. There’s nothing more to say.”
“There is,” Kade ground out. “I . . . I did hate you. At first.”
Sev forced a smile, though he didn’t find the information at all amusing.
“I knew . . . about your parents,” he said haltingly. He paused, as if expecting Sev to lash out in anger like he had the last time they were mentioned. When Sev remained quiet, he continued, “I’d grown up knowing their names. I lived in that safe house they protected; I watched the fires burn from the back of a wagon as we escaped. I owe my life to your parents, and when Ilithya told me their son had survived, I . . . Well, I was eager to meet you.”
Sev felt strange, weightless—disconnected from his body. Kade had known who his parents were all along? Had lived in the safe house? Sev had been there several times, when raids happened to nearby villages, or when soldiers were spotted along the border. Sometimes he and his parents would drop off whatever extra food or supplies they had—anything to help. He and Kade might have seen each other, even played together, and if Sev had listened to his parents, he’d have been on a wagon alongside him, on his way to safety.
“I knew that you’d be something special, that you could help us win this war. Only . . .”
“Only I wasn’t,” Sev said dully. “I wanted nothing to do with your war.”
“It made me angry. That day, outside the cabin . . . I expected you to charge in like a hero, to stand up to Jotham and Ott and to rescue that girl. It’s taken me all this time to realize that you did.”
Sev frowned. “Did what? I didn’t—”
“Don’t you see? My methods would have only made Jotham and Ott more determined to do whatever they wanted. They’d have sent you away, put someone else as lookout, and then they would have been there when that animage girl turned up, not you. Who knows what might’ve ha
ppened.”
“Luck,” Sev said with a half-hearted shrug, unwilling to allow himself to enjoy—or truly trust—Kade’s praise. “Teyke having fun at our expense.”
Kade shook his head. “Fate. Anyanke weaving our threads together.”
A thrill shot through Sev at Kade’s words. He had felt it too. Some indiscernible current always putting them in each other’s paths. Even now, there was a tug deep in Sev’s abdomen, drawing him to Kade.
“I accused you of saving your own neck that day. Maybe you were, in some way, but you saved hers, too—when you didn’t have to. If she’d been found, if they knew you’d tipped her off . . . things would have gone bad for you. Very bad. And the day you tried to run, you didn’t come back for yourself. . . . You came back for me. Just because you do things differently than I’d do them doesn’t mean they’re wrong.”
“So . . . is this a roundabout way of you saying you’re sorry?” Sev asked, mouth quirking up in the corner.
Kade chuckled, the tension lightening between them somewhat. “It’s my way of saying yes.”
“Yes?” Sev asked, confused.
“To your question before, by the fire. Maybe I hated you in the beginning, but that has changed.” Warmth spread from Sev’s chest all the way to his fingertips. “I couldn’t see—didn’t want to see—what Ilithya saw in you. I was jealous, I suppose, of the way you two connected with each other. I’ve spent years of my life trying to be a worthy successor to Ilithya Shadowheart, but that’s not my role to fill anymore. It’s yours.”
Sev swallowed. He’d only just come around to the idea that he belonged with Trix and Kade and the rest of the animages, but being her successor?
“That’s—I’m not—”
“Not yet,” Kade conceded, a ghost of a smile flickering across his face. “But you’ll get there. And I’ll help.”
Sev thought back to the moment Trix first assigned him to pack animal duty. He and Kade hadn’t been getting along, and Sev had thought she was being spiteful, putting them together—or that she wanted him to see all he had in common with the other bondservants. Now he couldn’t help but wonder if this hadn’t been her plan all along. She needed them both—not just now, but later, for the future. If they were going to save the Phoenix Riders, it would require more than just stopping this one attack. It would mean stopping every attack and rebuilding Avalkyra Ashfire’s rebellion from the ground up.
Crown of Feathers Page 33
