Out here, he was alone in the good way—away from suspicious eyes and judgmental scowls. The grass had grown over the scorched and churned-up earth, so he could almost forget that when the soldiers had come to kill them all, he’d been on the wrong side. He’d given the soldiers the information they needed to plan their attack, to avoid the patrols, and to all but seal their victory over the Phoenix Riders, over everyone Elliot had come to know and respect.
He hated the decisions he’d made, but what else could he have done? He railed at it, the injustice of what had happened to him. He’d been forced to choose, to pick between his family—his baby sister—and his new friends. But it hadn’t really been a choice at all. He’d tried to keep his distance from the people he was meant to betray to make the pain of what he was doing easier, but it hadn’t worked.
Elliot didn’t just hate his decisions…. He hated himself. Hated that Jaxon was bound to him. His bondmate should leave, fly away and be free.
His vision glistened and sparkled with unshed tears, and he stared up at the stars.
“Do you hear me?” he shouted at his bondmate, who sensed his obvious distress and redirected midflight to land in front of Elliot. Elliot released a shuddering breath and lowered his voice. When Jax leaned forward, nudging at Elliot’s chest, Elliot shoved his bondmate roughly away. “You should leave.”
“Are you talking to me?” came a voice from directly behind Elliot, so close at hand that he literally jumped. He whipped around, stepping subconsciously in front of Jax as if to protect him, when his mind had already pieced together what his sight confirmed: The speaker was a young girl. Pale, freckled skin. Tangled blond hair. Surrounded by a veritable menagerie and holding what was clearly a homemade spear.
“I—what? No, no I’m not,” Elliot said, still collecting himself after she’d so badly startled him. He cleared his throat and swiped hastily at his eyes, when he realized that this was the girl who assisted Ersken with the phoenixes—the girl who was blind. He puffed out his cheeks with a breath of relief. She hadn’t caught him crying—she hadn’t seen his tears at all. “I didn’t see you there. I was just taking Jax out for some exercise.”
She frowned at him—or at least, in his general direction. Her head was tilted slightly, as if she were listening to or sensing her surroundings rather than really seeing them. There was a bird perched atop her head, a pair of dogs trailing after her, and as she brushed absently at her shoulder, Elliot realized there was a mangy ginger cat hiding underneath her hair, scrawny and feral-looking, with a missing ear and tail.
Her hand stilled, as if she’d realized something. “Jax. You’re Elliot, then?” she asked, and Elliot’s stomach plummeted. “The one…,” she continued, face scrunched up, and Elliot stared at his feet, waiting for her to finish.
The one who spied. The one who betrayed us. The one who’s grounded indefinitely and will probably never be allowed to fly with the others again.
“…whose sister is missing.”
Elliot looked up. Every time Riella was mentioned—usually brusquely by the commander, one of a dozen loose ends for him to tie up, and no more—it felt like getting punched in the stomach. But for some reason, when this girl said “sister,” Elliot didn’t feel the word like a blow. Maybe it was her tone—deliberate and without pretense—or maybe it was the fact that she had remembered him not as the person who had done bad things, but instead, as the person who’d had bad things done to him. The person who was missing something.
The person who was missing someone.
Elliot nodding, then, remembering himself, added, “Yes.”
“Riella,” the girl said brightly, as if pleased with herself for remembering the name. One of the dogs started gnawing on the bottom of her spear, which she seemed to use as a walking stick. Rather than shoo the dog away, she lobbed the stick across the field, and both dogs barked and chased after it.
“That’s right,” Elliot said as he watched the dogs fighting over the narrow piece of wood.
“My name’s Sparrow,” she said, then frowned. “It’s not so pretty as Riella…,” she mused. “But it’s mine.” Again, her simple words about Elliot’s sister went straight to his chest, but not in a bad way.
Sparrow bent to put the cat onto the ground, causing the bird that perched on her head to shift and ruffle its feathers. A lightning bolt of realization zipped through him. He’d seen this girl before—not just in the stronghold, but in Vayle, with Veronyka. She’d been trying to steal from the bloody wagon, or at least he’d thought she was. He was probably just paranoid. When you were constantly plotting deception and hiding your intentions, you tended to think others were as well. She had probably just been trying to get herself in with the Riders like Veronyka, who’d soon taken on the disguise of Nyk.
Nyk. Veronyka had lied to everyone and concealed the fact that she’d already had a bondmate. She’d deceived the Riders, the same as Elliot, but no one hated her. At least, not the way they hated him. They were wary of her, maybe. But she wasn’t grounded. She wasn’t punished.
But she didn’t lead the empire to their doorstep; she didn’t put everyone’s lives in danger.
The day he’d first met Veronyka and Sparrow in Vayle had also been the night that Elliot had slipped off to meet with Captain Belden, refusing to give any more information until he had assurances that Riella was okay. The snake of a man had given Elliot some scrap of a letter with no trace of his sister in the words or the penmanship.
The knowledge that it might have all been for nothing was like broken glass prickling over Elliot’s skin. Had his dreams of saving his sister been lost even then? Had they ever been possible, or had Riella been dead as soon as those soldiers marched her out their front door, Elliot’s father holding him back as he kicked and yelled and fought?
Elliot glared at the girl before him, in no mood to talk—or think—about Riella.
“It’s late. You…” He paused, not sure what to say but determined to end the conversation. “You should go back inside.”
Sparrow stilled before him, as if she weren’t unused to being spoken to rudely but was still taken aback by it. “Too quiet inside,” she said. “And he wants me to stay.”
She was nodding her chin over Elliot’s shoulder, where Jaxon stood. Elliot stared at his bondmate, who was blinking bright, curious eyes at Sparrow and inching closer to her.
A stab of something like annoyance throbbed in Elliot’s stomach. He reached out and placed a hand on his phoenix’s warm neck, meaning to stop his movement. It ached to touch Jax this way, to be this close and yet unable to mount up and ride. But Jax needed his exercise, not to stand around and play with some half-wild animage. And the last thing Elliot needed—or wanted—was this girl hanging around. This girl, who was probably the same age as Riella and even reminded Elliot of her a bit—the dirty knees and scraggly hair and constant parade of animals.
“What he wants,” Elliot said, his voice hard, “is to fly while he has the chance.”
“Maybe,” Sparrow said, her tone light and conversational, as if she didn’t notice—or didn’t care—how rude Elliot was being. “Maybe he wants to be friends.”