Hide, Veronyka said to Xephyra and Rex, as Tristan took another step toward the open door.
“I’ll head them off,” Tristan whispered. Stay here, he mouthed, before slipping out the door and closing it behind him.
Veronyka listened carefully as Tristan’s footsteps receded. She wasn’t worried about her and Tristan—she was worried about their phoenixes. If those were empire soldiers strolling through the wilds, she doubted they’d be talking loudly and giving away their position. Then again, the men who’d tried to rob this very cabin several months back hadn’t been discreet either. A flutter of anxiety pressed against her breast. What if they were soldiers and Tristan was about to face them on his own?
His voice pierced through their low, rumbling chatter, and Veronyka heard a mix of people, old, young—even children—in reply. She relaxed. Just travelers, then, not soldiers. Tristan laughed and joked with the group, and Veronyka thought she heard him say something about coming from Vayle. She blew a slow breath out through her lips, reminded Xephyra and Rex to stay hidden, and peered back around the cabin.
Veronyka stared dejectedly at the cramped, empty space, then looked down at the braided bracelet with its gleaming golden ring on her wrist. It was time. She would leave it here, bury it along with her thoughts of Val, of her past, and her lost identity. Veronyka would leave it all behind.
As she searched for a likely place, her attention lit on the hearthstones, the usual place they would bury their belongings back in Aura Nova. If she could slide one of those up, it would be a ready-made hole, deep and easily reburied.
But as Veronyka moved closer, she could see that the stones were slightly uneven and awkwardly placed—as if they’d already been removed and then returned without much care.
Veronyka shoved the cold bricks and heaps of ash aside, revealing a second layer of stones beneath. She dug her fingernails in between them, finally prying up one of the blocks to reveal a deep earthen hole. Inside was the edge of a lacquered wooden box.
Her heart skipped a beat. Veronyka knew that box…. It was the very same one their grandmother used when they lived in Aura Nova. But they’d fled that home with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Hadn’t they?
“Diyu ma, xe Nyka.”
Veronyka whipped around in alarm. Val stood just inside the window, half her face in shadow, thanks to the lantern’s stark light. It was as if she’d materialized out of thin air, yet despite her relaxed posture and easy words, her eyes flashed with something like surprise as they bored into Veronyka.
“Val,” Veronyka said, standing, her heart clenched—not in surprise, but something closer to dread. It felt as though, deep down, she had known this would happen. Had she wanted it to? Seeing Val went against everything Veronyka was trying to achieve, and yet… there was something right about seeing her again, here. For a strange moment, the cabin felt like home again. “Or I guess I should say Avalkyra,” she said, keeping her voice steady, no matter how emphatically her heart pounded. “Yes, it has been a long time.”
“I’m glad you’re keeping up on your Pyraean,” Val said, unhitching herself from the wall. “And you may call me Val, if you wish. For now.”
“For now?” Veronyka asked, wary of Val’s every movement, all her senses on high alert. Xephyra was inching closer to the cabin outside, even as Veronyka told her to stay back.
“Someday soon you’ll call me queen.”
Veronyka wasn’t shocked by Val’s words. She’d known somewhere deep inside that if Val was indeed Avalkyra, then she’d have one goal in mind above all others—and that goal would involve a crown.
“And what will you call me?” Veronyka asked, unable to help herself. “Who am I to you? Not your sister.”
“Not my sister,” Val conceded slowly, as if weighing her words very carefully. “You’ll have to come with me if you want to know more.”
Veronyka gritted her teeth. It was so unfair that Val should hold such information as if it were hers, as if Veronyka’s identity didn’t belong to Veronyka herself. As if she didn’t have a right to it.
“Then,” Val said, taking a tentative step forward, “once we’re together, we can—”
“We can what?” Veronyka demanded. “You can become queen while I watch from the sidelines? Is that what you wanted all this time? An audience? Someone smaller and weaker to make you feel superior?”
A spasm of frustration crossed Val’s face as she looked away. “No,” she said, her gaze roving the gloomy hovel. When she turned her eyes back to Veronyka, they were wide. Almost pleading. “Come with me, and I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”
Promise. Veronyka shrank back from the word. What did promises mean to Val anyway? Before Veronyka could reply, Val’s gaze darted downward. It was the barest flicker of her eyes, but Veronyka knew somehow that Val was staring at the hole in the hearth—and the box Veronyka had unearthed there.
Maybe there was another way to know more.
Veronyka lunged toward the box just as Val did the same.
They collided in the dirt, and Veronyka was reminded of the last time they were here—when Veronyka struggled against Val to try to save Xephyra as she choked and spluttered on a poisoned date.
She sensed Xephyra now, fluttering outside the cabin, frantic and confused and fighting against Veronyka’s request to stay hidden and safe.
The last time they’d clashed, Veronyka had been easily overpowered—young and afraid and inexperienced.
She might still be some of those things—especially when she considered that Val was no regular sixteen-year-old—but she’d been sparring with Tristan for weeks now.
And she wasn’t going down without a fight.
Veronyka’s hands were on the box in the hearth, and Val was clawing at her wrists. Rather than leaning away from her, Veronyka angled her body toward Val and shoved her shoulder into Val’s chest, breaking Val’s hold and sending her stumbling.
Veronyka wrenched the box up from the dirt, but already Val was reaching for her with renewed ferocity. Veronyka tried to run, but Val grabbed her by the throat, dragging her backward.
The harder Val fought, the more certain Veronyka became that there were answers inside this box. That there was something vitally important within her grasp. She could not let it go.
Veronyka swung wildly, her elbow connecting with Val’s jaw—though she’d had to relinquish her two-handed grasp on the box to do it. Val took hold of Veronyka’s hair next, jerking hard, but Veronyka’s palms were slippery with dirt, and at the sudden jolt, the box flew out of her hand…
…and landed in the open doorway, where Tristan now stood.
Val let out a snarl of frustration, releasing Veronyka’s hair and backing to the far side of the cabin.
“You don’t understand,” Val said, panting from exertion. “We need to speak alone. There’s so much I have to say… so much to explain. You need me.”
The words were ones Val had spoken often in Veronyka’s life, and one of those times had been right here, in this room, after Xephyra was dead and Veronyka was preparing to run away.
“No, I don’t,” Veronyka said, her voice cold and sharp as shards of ice.