“So you are mad at me,” Tristan said, and she didn’t contradict him. “I…,” he began, searching for words. He’d expected this from her, but he still didn’t know what to say. “I’m not exactly sure.”
She cast him a pointed look, crossing her arms, and he knew he’d have to do better than that.
He cleared his throat. “I was tired, and everyone was watching, and…”
“Were you trying to make it easier for me?” she asked, agitation coloring her voice. “Were you trying to let me win?”
“No, I never intended—I wasn’t thinking. I just hesitated for a sec—”
“You didn’t think I could win, did you?” she demanded angrily. “You thought I was destined to lose, and you didn’t want to embarrass me in front of everyone, so you went easy on the poor, incompetent girl.”
“No! I didn’t go easy on you,” Tristan said at once. “I know that I hesitated,” he added quickly, “but I fought hard before that. And I didn’t hold back because you’re a girl,” he said, hurt that she’d think so little of him. “It was because you’re you.”
Her rage faltered. “What do you mean? I don’t want special treatment.”
Tristan looked away from her, heat crawling up his cheeks. He was glad it was dark. “I knew how much you wanted to win—how hard you’ve been working. And I guess that compromised me.” She continued to stare at him, uncomprehending, so he plowed on. “I know you don’t want special treatment, but you are special—to me.”
Her lips parted, but no words came out. She turned away, looking toward Xephyra and Rex, who were huddled together several feel away. Both their glows had dimmed; the only light came from the lanterns hung on regular intervals along the walkway, and the distant, icy stars.
When she finally did speak, her voice was soft, a whisper across his skin. “The thing is… you’ve always hated the way your father treated you differently. Good or bad… it feels like you’re protecting me. But that’s not—that’s not why I’m here. That’s not what I want from you.”
What do you want? Tristan was desperate to ask, but he was afraid of the answer. They’d spent hours alone together since the battle for the Eyrie, when her secrets were laid bare and they had grown closer to each other. But once the dust settled, nothing more had happened between them. And he wanted it to. He hated when they were apart and couldn’t wait until she graduated and joined his patrol. They were short one Rider, and Tristan had yet to name a second-in-command. That position was Veronyka’s, and it would be waiting for her whenever she was ready.
Tristan wanted her by his side always. Did she not want the same?
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, avoiding her gaze.
She nodded, though it seemed more in resignation than anything else. “Latham’s always saying how you favor me, and I overheard him whispering to Petyr after the match that you were afraid to hit me.”
“I hit you all the time!” Tristan said, outraged, and her lips twitched in a smile. “In training, obviously,” he muttered, realizing the way his words sounded. He’d accidentally given her a black eye two weeks ago, and the barest hints of green still colored her golden-brown skin. He’d been horrified at first, but Veronyka had only touched the swelling gently before smiling, wearing the purple bruises like a badge of honor. “And Petyr’s just jealous.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Veronyka said. “This place is too small, and everyone loves gossip. One day I’m the stable boy Nyk, the next I’m a girl, a brand-new apprentice—and the commander’s son’s favorite. You know what they’ll say, how they’ll spin it. They’ll say that we’re—that you and I…”
She trailed off, and silence fell between them.
“So what if we were?” Tristan asked, and when her eyes widened, he hastily continued. “I mean, it used to happen all the time, didn’t it? Mated pairs, or whatever.” Her eyes were round as plates now, and Tristan’s cheeks were hotter than Rex in a fire dive. He rubbed a hand against the back of his neck, glancing away from her and forcing a determinedly nonchalant shrug. “Let them talk.”
The truth was, the other apprentices had been gossiping about Veronyka and Tristan since she’d first arrived. While Latham would occasionally moon about girls and Anders would laugh and tease and try to push everyone’s buttons, Tristan had always been more reserved. He’d never shown much interest in the others—for friendship or romance—but then Nyk the new stable boy turned up and the two became inseparable. It didn’t matter that it was his father’s order that started it; they’d seen the way Tristan looked at Nyk, noticed the change that Veronyka never could because she hadn’t known him before. No matter how innocent their relationship—even though Tristan had long wished it were otherwise—something about being the commander’s solitary, standoffish son made him an entertaining target, and they loved to try to get a rise out of him.
“It’s different for you,” Veronyka said. “You’re the one in power. I’m the one who looks like I’m clinging to your phoenix tail.”
Rex let out a reproachful croak and shuffled forward; Veronyka smiled at him, patting his outstretched beak.
Tristan watched them, thinking over her words. He realized it was exactly how he’d felt being the commander’s son, as if no matter how hard he worked or how well he performed, everyone would assume he’d been given an easy path.
“Anyone who sees you fly will know that you’ve earned every single thing you have—and you’ll earn much more, before all this is done,” he said, hoping to reassure her, but there was a heaviness settling into his stomach. If just being friends compromised Veronyka’s integrity and her hopes for the future, how could Tristan ever hope for anything more?
“All my life,” she began, “my s-sister”—she stuttered slightly on the word—“treated me like I was made of glass. Not precious, but fragile. Useless.”
“I do not think you’re useless,” Tristan interrupted, and she smiled widely. His stomach leapt at the sight.
“I know,” she said, before the grin slipped off her face. “I just… I hate this, Tristan. I hate sitting here… I feel useless.”
Her voice was tired now as she leaned back against the wall, staring off into the distance. Heart fluttering, Tristan reached for her, his fingers crawling across the cool stone to find hers in the dark. She stiffened at first, only to grip his hand hard.
“Yeah,” Tristan said, sliding closer to her and gently tracing his thumb across her knuckles. “Me too.”
* * *
After walking Veronyka back to the apprentice barracks, Tristan roamed the stronghold. It was well after dinner, and the place was deserted.
He was considering walking the ramparts or visiting Wind in the stables when he spotted his father cutting across the cobblestones toward the dining hall. Tristan hastened his footsteps to catch up to him, surprised to see him out so late. His father usually retired early to work, the lantern glow from his chambers spilling out the windows and into the courtyard well into the night.