“You told me you don’t like being protected,” Tristan said, recalling their conversation inside the Eyrie after their last sparring match, “but you’ve taken it upon yourself to protect me. That’s not fair.” He raised his brows in mock rebuke.
Veronyka twisted her mouth and nodded. “You’re right. Thank you, Tristan. I… It won’t be forever. I’ll find a way, so we can…” She trailed off, a tingle of embarrassment climbing up her neck, and let him fill in the words: I’ll find a way so we can touch again.
Tristan frowned as he sorted through her words. Then a slow smile crawled across his face, flashing his dimples. Veronyka’s stomach swooped in response.
They stood in comfortable silence for a few moments before Tristan spoke. “So,” he said, casting her a scrutinizing look, “are you okay?”
“Am I okay?” she repeated with a laugh. “You’re the one who almost fell to his death today.”
He didn’t smile. “And you’re the one whose entire life just got blown apart. I’d say we’re even.”
“I guess you have a point,” she said in resignation, staring across the rocky landscape.
“Will you tell me?” he asked. “All of it? Or is that, I don’t know… dangerous? With the bond and all?”
“I don’t care,” Veronyka replied with a shake of her head. “I don’t want any more secrets between us. I’ll tell you everything.”
“I won’t tell anyone,” he said solemnly. “I promise.”
Veronyka smiled. “I know.”
The tradition of kneeling to swear fealty to fellow Phoenix Riders dates all the way back to Queen Nefyra. She knelt before her chosen Riders one by one, just as she’d knelt before Axura herself. It eventually became a part of several important Pyraean ceremonies, including the assignment of patrol positions and marriage rites.
When disputes arose between neighboring communities, it was common for the arguments to be settled and peace treaties sealed by their leaders kneeling opposite each other.
Queen Elysia brought the tradition with her to the valley, and the act was immortalized in a famous tapestry called The Queen Who Knelt, which once hung in the throne room of the Nest and has since been moved to the Morian Archives.
It featured Queen Elysia kneeling before her King Consort, Damian. He knelt as well, the two promising an alliance that would unite their people and serve as the foundation for the empire. For every king Elysia conquered or allied with, she would kneel, offering her loyalty, and if they wanted to keep their positions—and their heads—they would do the same.
—Social and Political Customs of the Pyraean Queens, the Morian Archives, 111 AE
But alone I finally understood what it was to be
an Ashfire. I did not want to rule, but we do
not always choose our destinies. Being an Ashfire
was not a choice, but a responsibility.
- CHAPTER 19 - ELLIOT
AFTER EAVESDROPPING WITH SPARROW and overhearing some of the commander’s plans, Elliot expected it to take several days to devise a way to relay the information about his great-aunt and the Grand Council. He had to make it seem natural—like something that he’d decided to tell the commander all on his own. He couldn’t just stride up to the man the very next day and blurt out his family tree.
Or at least, that was what he’d thought.
It turned out that Elliot could in fact approach the commander the next day, and it was thanks to the gossip he overheard from his fellow Riders during the morning’s Master Rider audition.
Beryk had enlisted Elliot’s help with the proceedings, and it wasn’t long before he heard why they were suddenly auditioning a new master: Empire soldiers had been sighted along the border. Tristan’s patrol was a Rider short—a spot that had surely been meant for Elliot, and something he tried not to be resentful about—and they discussed both the soldiers and the Grand Council meeting within earshot that very morning. Beryk had quickly silenced the talk, but it was enough for Elliot to broach the topic with the commander without raising suspicion. While deliberately eavesdropping was one thing, accidentally overhearing gossip was something else.
His plans were derailed slightly after the events of the day, however, which included not only a failed trial, but a near-death fall by the commander’s own son. After the commotion and Veronyka’s brilliant diving rescue, Tristan had been carted off to his rooms by the healer, followed closely behind by Veronyka, the commander, Beryk, Fallon, and the members of Tristan’s patrol. Elliot had never felt the divide between himself and those who had been his fellow apprentices as he had then, as they rushed off together and he was left behind. So he’d stood rooted to the spot, fists clenched and emotions held in check, until everyone else was gone. Then he’d cleaned up after them, doing what they needed him to, and when word had reached him that Tristan would make a full recovery, Elliot enjoyed his relief alone.
It was late by the time he worked up his courage to see the commander. The corridors and grounds were quiet, but Elliot knew the commander would be working inside his office well into the night. He paused outside the door, golden lantern light spilling around the gaps, before knocking softly.
He regretted his decision at once and was just turning away when the handle jiggled and the door swung wide.
“Elliot,” the commander said in surprise as Elliot jerked back around and straightened.
“Sir.”
They stood in awkward silence.
“Is there something you need?” the commander asked, looking a bit uncomfortable. He glanced down the hall. “Has Beryk sent you?”
Elliot shook his head. “I… overheard some rumors, and it made me think of something. Something I thought might be of help to you.”
The commander’s expression shifted with every word—dubious, then a flash of resignation at the spread of gossip inside the Eyrie, and then, finally, a spark of interest. “Come in.”
Rather than settling in at the opposite side of the table, the commander took the chair nearest to the door and gestured for Elliot to do the same. He didn’t want to sit—his anxiety and adrenaline made him want to run laps or loose arrows, anything to release the pent-up energy funneling through his limbs—but he did, perching uneasily on the edge.
It was the first time he’d been alone with the commander since his lies had been revealed, and Elliot was having a hard time looking the man in the face. It was also difficult being in this room again, where he had been subjected to hours upon hours of questioning. At least Beryk and Morra had been there, and though their presence wasn’t meant to be a comfort to him, it had been. Even Beryk’s disappointed face and Morra’s intense, unnerving interrogation were better than being alone with cold, hard, intimidating Commander Cassian.
Those had been hard days, reliving every excruciating detail of his betrayal. Because of his fear of being caught by the Riders, Elliot had foolishly burned all his early letters. Later, when he’d begun to question the veracity of Captain Belden’s claims and his sister’s whereabouts, he’d decided to keep some of the missives, but they weren’t of much use. Without all the letters to paint a complete picture, the scraps of requests and information proved only that someone wanted information about the Riders. They weren’t signed, weren’t sealed or authenticated, and they didn’t explain the terms of their deal. Still, Elliot had turned over what he had—including the false letter from his sister that Elliot assumed was written by Belden himself—and relayed everything he could remember of the rest.