Anders swooped around and landed with a flourish, smiling and tearing off his blindfold while the others clapped him on the back. His phoenix stood just behind him, shaking out his wings and setting off waves of heat after the short but intense flight.
Lysandro lined up next, with Ronyn on deck. All the while, Tristan was aware of Veronyka at the edges of the field behind him, like a storm cloud he could sense on the horizon even before it was visible.
Every time he looked back at her, she was scowling, her face screwed up and her lips moving, as if she were muttering to herself or talking to Xephyra, who remained close to her side. In fact, he’d distinctly seen her say the words “leave me alone.” It was an odd thing to do—talking aloud when you had a bond—but Tristan himself had done it before, and he’d seen Veronyka do it too, though he doubted very highly she’d ever say such words to Xephyra.
The weirdest thing about it all was the way he thought he could hear her, even across the field. He could definitely hear something, but with the others cheering and shouting loudly, he couldn’t figure out how.
Tristan sidled over to her. “Can you…? Will you tell me what’s bothering you?”
She shook her head slightly, as if bothered by a pesky fly. “It’s nothing, Tristan.”
Tristan frowned and tried to think what it could be, his mind combing over everything that had happened the previous day—Val and soldiers and Master Rider auditions—but he felt like he was forgetting something important. “Wait,” he said suddenly, realizing with a jolt exactly what it must be. “The lockbox—did you…?”
As soon as he said the word “lockbox,” Veronyka flinched and darted a glance in his direction. It was the first time she’d looked at him properly all day, and to his surprise, the moment was followed by a strange, weightless sensation. A wave of dizziness reared up, accompanied by dark splotches speckling his vision.
“You’re up,” she said, breaking their eye contact and nodding toward the others. Lysandro had returned and Ronyn was in the air, so Tristan walked over to the starting line. His light-headedness had passed, and though Veronyka was clearly dealing with something, Tristan did his best to shake it off. Whatever she needed, even if it was space away from him, he would give it. The audition was what mattered now.
They were making good time, and barring any screwups, they would pass this first trial. Maybe then Veronyka would loosen up and forget whatever was troubling her.
Rex had difficulty standing still as they awaited Ronyn, and Tristan knew it was his own feelings filtering through the bond. Tristan had been restless since yesterday, and a night of tossing and turning hadn’t changed that. They were both eager to get into the air and leave their stress and worry behind.
Ronyn rounded the corner, approaching at a steady pace. Tristan and Rex took to the air, and already Tristan felt lighter and more at ease. He tugged the blindfold over his eyes, and the world around him grew dark as he reached with his magic for Rex. There was a shimmer, like looking through a darkened veil as shafts of light and color filtered through. Then a blink, and they were mirrored, the world around him vibrant and strange with his phoenix’s superior, but still different, sight.
They flew up and down in place high above the crowd as Tristan acclimated to seeing the world through his phoenix’s eyes. The shouts below grew louder, and he nudged his bondmate, who turned to watch Ronyn’s approach. Rex pumped his wings hard, propelling them forward. They had to match Ronyn’s speed to make for an easier handoff, plus keep their spacing tight for the simple front to back hand off—made possible by their combined heights. This was the hardest part. Rex couldn’t fly forward and look back at the same time, so Tristan had to extend his arm and trust that Ronyn and his phoenix would do the rest.
Luckily, Ronyn’s height made the exchange quick and painless, and when the baton slipped into the center of Tristan’s palm, Rex flapped his wings with a shriek of excitement, taking off after the flag-marked route.
The wind whipped through Tristan’s hair, and his muscles tensed and bunched, adjusting and reacting to Rex’s bursts of movement. He relied on feel as much as sight, because Rex wasn’t seeing the saddle or stirrups. When his bondmate banked hard, Tristan leaned opposite, distributing his weight while keeping a careful hold on the baton.
They entered the cool darkness of Soth’s Fury, the exhaustion Tristan had been keeping at bay growing palpable as their flight wore on. Another wave of dizziness gripped him, and there was a kind of humming in his ears that he figured was just the strange echoes of the narrow stone passages playing tricks on him. Still, relief swept through him when the heat of the sun slid over his skin as they emerged from the cavern, rounding the Eyrie before making their way back toward the field outside the village. He heard yelling and cheering from below, the others watching the race more intently now as the final lap approached.
Ahead, Veronyka was already in the air, Xephyra pumping her wings in a lazy bob. Xephyra was large for her age, but it was her combination of size and agility that made her so fast. Her Rider was light, as well, which helped even more.
As they drew near and Xephyra began her forward motion, Tristan stared at Veronyka, her hand stretched backward. He frowned. There was a darkness to her shape, a shadowy aura that pulsed from the inside out, like a reverse lantern. He’d never seen such a thing through Rex’s eyes before, and they mirrored all the time.
It was jarring and strange, but Tristan shook the vision aside and focused. While Ronyn’s height and reach had given them an advantage, Veronyka was the opposite, and so Tristan had to cover more ground than usual. He leaned forward in his saddle, while Rex flattened and steadied his flight, allowing Tristan to extend himself over his bondmate’s head. It was difficult to maintain balance without sight and with one hand clenching the metal baton, but slowly Tristan steadied himself and reached.
The instant he felt the warm brush of Veronyka’s fingers, the knot of fear in his chest loosened—only to twist again more tightly and painfully than before. Veronyka fumbled the baton, as if she’d felt something too, and Rex saw her stagger in her saddle. As soon as their skin had touched, the shadows that surrounded Veronyka expanded like greedy, clawing hands—reaching for him. He didn’t know if he was seeing it with Rex’s eyes or with his magic, but everything about it felt wrong.
“Tristan?” Veronyka said sharply, but her voice sounded very far away. He thought he heard another voice, an unwanted one, though he had no idea whose it was. He reared back from it, forgetting the baton, forgetting the race and the fact that he was hundreds of feet in the air.
He forgot everything he’d ever known as the darkness closed in, swallowing him whole.
“Tristan!” someone shouted, desperate fear in their voice, while a guttural shriek rumbled from underneath him as he fell, weightless, into shadows.
And when my mother was murdered
and my sister was guilty, I learned
what it was to stand alone.
- CHAPTER 17 - VERONYKA
VERONYKA TORE OFF HER blindfold just in time to see Tristan fall limply from Rex’s back. The phoenix screeched and turned in midair, but his momentum was carrying him one way, while the wind carried Tristan the other.