“How many?” Veronyka asked.
“Hundreds, apparently,” Tristan said grimly, Veronyka’s dire face mirroring his own initial reaction.
“Do we know what direction they were going?” Veronyka asked as she climbed into her saddle. “What their target is?”
Tristan settled into his own saddle. “Wherever they go—whatever damage they do—I think it’s safe to say their target is us.”
They returned to camp and packed up quickly, making their return to the Eyrie only a bit later than Tristan had originally intended. He decided not to share the news of the soldiers with the rest of his patrol. They would find out eventually, and he didn’t want them to suggest doing the thing he very much wanted to do himself—which was to head south toward the border and find out more. Tristan’s orders had been to fly straight to Vayle and then to fly right back. Even visiting Veronyka’s cabin was technically forbidden, and he knew the commander would be furious if they tried to scout empire soldier movements without first reporting to him. Tristan’s position as patrol leader was still very much new—and his father wouldn’t hesitate to strip the honor if Tristan failed to perform his duties correctly.
He also didn’t want to cause a panic among the local villagers. No doubt they’d hear the news from the traveling tinkers when they arrived later that day, but Tristan didn’t want to be there when they did. He knew they’d demand answers that he couldn’t give.
Not yet, he told himself firmly. His father couldn’t ignore this. He’d been resisting action for weeks, but he could do so no longer.
By late afternoon, they were flying past the perimeter patrol and signaling their approach. The sun was hot and low in the sky, and a steady trail of perspiration trickled down Tristan’s back despite the brisk winds from Rex’s speedy flight. Of course, it wasn’t just the weather that was making Tristan sweat. He was about to face his first real challenge as a patrol leader, his first chance to speak up and—hopefully—have his opinions heard. So far he’d been quiet in their Rider Council meetings, trying to listen and learn and prove to his father that promoting him wasn’t a mistake.
Now he had vital information to share, and it was exhilarating to finally be a part of the decision making.
When they touched down inside the Eyrie, Veronyka moved to unsaddle Rex—a general part of her duties as underwing was to help with tasks such as this—but Tristan grabbed her outstretched hand.
“Lys, do you mind?” he asked, calling out to his cousin and gesturing to Rex and Xephyra.
“You got it,” Lysandro replied with a nod, dropping his saddle to the ground and reaching for Rex. Veronyka hesitated. Lysandro was a master, after all, and she was an apprentice—and Latham stood nearby, eyebrows raised in silent reproach. But Tristan ignored them.
“Come on,” Tristan said to Veronyka, tugging her arm. “We’ve got news to report.”
Eventually she nodded and wiped her hands down her front, as if nervous, but Tristan didn’t know why. They’d learned about the soldiers together, so it seemed only natural to bring her. Besides, Tristan always felt bolstered when she was around, more certain in his convictions than he was when he was by himself with his father.
He actually smirked a bit as he led the way inside the stronghold. If Tristan didn’t have the nerve to stand up for what was right, he knew Veronyka would. They had a Rider Council meeting scheduled upon his patrol’s return, and Tristan was eager to disclose what he’d learned.
When they arrived in his father’s meeting room, Beryk was already there, head bowed over some documents his father had splayed on the table.
“Ah, Tristan, come in,” his father said, spotting him in the doorway. “We’ll have to finish reviewing the budget later,” he said to Beryk before gathering the papers and putting them on the sideboard. “How was—” He paused, noting for the first time that Veronyka had entered the room behind Tristan.
Before he could say more, Fallon and Darius arrived, glancing around at the somewhat awkward silence.
“This is a Rider Council meeting,” the commander said at last. “Veronyka, will you please excuse us?”
Tristan gripped Veronyka’s arm. “We have important news to share with the council.”
His father frowned. “Surely you can relay the details on your own, Tristan. We have other matters to disc—”
“Empire soldiers have been spotted on the Pyraean border,” Tristan blurted. “Near Ferro. We got word from a family of travelers.” The room stilled, tension filling the empty silent spaces. Tristan glanced at Veronyka, then plowed on. There were details he hadn’t told her yet either. “There haven’t been any attacks yet, but groups of soldiers have been seen as far east as Runnet, and some animages have been reported missing.” It was a common tactic of the empire—the kidnappings done by soldiers and raiders alike. Animages were worth money on the black market, and they were easy targets in a place like Pyra. “Obviously, the attack at the Eyrie was only the beginning.”
Tristan expected uproar. He expected shock and rage and dozens of questions.
Instead, every head in the room swiveled to his father. Tristan’s insides felt hollow.
“You knew?” Tristan asked, his mouth dry.
“I… suspected,” the commander clarified. “Sit, Tristan, and we’ll talk. Veronyka, if you don’t mind—”
“No,” Tristan snapped, jerking out not one chair but two. “She stays.”
Veronyka’s eyes were wide, looking between father and son, uncertain. Tristan felt a stab of guilt for putting her in such a position, but he’d be damned if he bowed to his father’s wishes—no matter how seemingly trivial. He’d die of thirst before he took a cup of water right now, if his father suggested it.
“Why exactly?”
“She’s my second,” Tristan said, before he realized what he was saying. Heat crept over the back of his neck and along his ears, but he refused to back down. His father knew what was between them—knew that there was more to their relationship than that.
“She cannot be your second—she’s not even a Master Rider yet,” his father said, voice flat with suppressed impatience.
Tristan didn’t dare look at Veronyka when he spoke. “I don’t care. She’ll be a Master Rider eventually. And when she is, the position will be waiting for her.” Finally he looked at Veronyka, whose face was frozen in shock. “If she wants it,” he added, though Veronyka didn’t respond.
Tristan shifted his focus to his father, whose nostrils were flared as he fought for composure. Next to him, Beryk looked somewhat exasperated. He was used to the way the commander and his son conflicted with each other, no matter the issue. Darius smirked, arms crossed as he took in the scene with mild amusement, but Fallon had a measuring look on his face. Tristan couldn’t be certain, but Fallon seemed almost impressed that he was standing his ground.
The commander sighed heavily, and Tristan knew the fight was won—at least for now. Still, Veronyka didn’t move a muscle until the commander gestured for her to take a seat. She did, followed by Fallon and Darius.
“So,” Tristan continued, “why do I get the feeling you already knew about the soldiers?” He was trying to give his father a chance to explain, but his anger was simmering in his chest, ready to ignite.