He couldn’t go back to not caring and not seeing, back to the way his life had been before.
Sev wanted, needed, to keep fighting.
The question was, how?
He could take one of the eggs he’d carried, join the Riders, and leave all the deceptions behind. Become a heroic warrior, like his parents. But something about that didn’t quite sit right. In truth, he couldn’t picture it. He wasn’t a hero, much as he’d wanted to be. He wasn’t much of a warrior, either. Kade was those things, and it had cost him his life. Sev wasn’t even a strong animage.
He was something else. Trix had said Sev was just like her, and Trix was a spy.
Could Sev pick up where Trix had left off? Kade had called him her worthy successor, and Sev had scoffed at the idea. Maybe, years from now, he might be skilled and accomplished enough to agree. But they hadn’t had years, and now Trix was gone.
And yet even Sev’s small lies had been useful, hadn’t they? He thought of his exchange with Veronyka: Yes, he could deny the secrets and deceptions that had made up his life and break the cycle, or he could see them to the end—whatever end that might be.
His position as a soldier had been key in Trix’s plans, and Trix had spent much of her own life within the enemy’s walls. If Sev claimed that false identity, if he made the choice to pretend for a reason—not out of fear or cowardice—well, then it became something else entirely. Something powerful. A real choice, not some misfortune thrust upon him. A weapon to be wielded.
The war wasn’t over. The Riders had survived this attack, but he knew there would be other battles to fight. Their survival meant more to Sev now than just the continued existence of the order his parents had served, some scrap of his past he could cling to. No, their survival was intertwined now with his present, with Trix and Kade, and their very recent sacrifices. If the Riders fell, then everyone Sev had ever cared about would have died in vain. He couldn’t let that happen.
Instead of running from his past, Sev could finish what he’d started—what he, Trix, and Kade had failed to complete.
He could pick up the threads of the life he’d never wanted and continue playing Trix’s little game.
That afternoon Sev was escorted to the commander’s chambers. He had asked for the meeting, but he was nervous all the same.
He carried the satchel of phoenix eggs with him, grimacing as the weight pulled against his injured shoulder, but he refused to let anyone else touch his valuable burden. He felt possessive over it, especially considering all he’d lost to get it here and knowing how much it had meant to Kade. Also, judging by the stares and reactions it got, Sev had a feeling the eggs were his one and only bargaining chip, should he need it. He couldn’t imagine why the commander might turn down his offer, but it was better to be prepared.
Inside the opulently decorated building, Sev took a seat at a long wooden table opposite the man they called Commander Cassian. The door closed behind him, and they were alone.
The commander was elegant and impressive—everything that Captain Belden tried to be but failed at. He was tall and imposing where Belden was short and weak, calm and dignified where Belden was impatient and snide, and the finery of his clothes and quarters looked like it belonged there, with him in it, not ill fitting and piled about a tent pitched in the wilderness.
Sev didn’t know why, but something about the man put him at ease. He was no cutthroat or schemer. What he was, he wore plainly, for all to see. Not a sheep in lion’s clothing, as Belden had been, but a lion in lion’s clothing.
A dangerous man, but an honest one too.
Sev could work with that.
“I must formally thank you, soldier,” the commander said, his voice booming with authority, “for your bravery and your courage. You saved dozens of civilian lives, not to mention the future of the Phoenix Riders, and—”
“Pardon me, Commander,” Sev said, cutting him off. He had to admire the man’s self-control—only the barest flicker of his eyes indicated his annoyance at being interrupted. “But I didn’t come here for that. I don’t need your thanks or your praise. I’m one of the lucky ones,” he said, still hating the phrase but knowing it was true all the same. “There were others who died so that I might deliver my message and my burden.”
Sev realized the list of people who had died for him stretched back to his mother and father. Their sacrifice had put Sev in the position to be able to save the Phoenix Riders more than a decade later, helped along by Trix and Kade.
The commander glanced down to the satchel at Sev’s feet. He looked up again. “What, then, did you come here for, soldier?”
Sev swallowed. Now that he was here, getting the words out of his throat felt like dragging his feet through mud. “I want to go back.”
The commander’s face hardened. “You want to return to your post serving the empire?”
“No. I want to return to the empire, but I want the master I serve to be you.”
The commander leaned forward, tilting his head. “You want to be a spy?”
“Did you know Ilithya Shadowheart?” Sev asked.
Commander Cassian settled back in his chair before responding. “Not well, no. The name ‘Shadowheart’ is actually a position of sorts—a title. Spies like her operated in such a way that few knew their true names or their true purpose. Morra, however, was well-acquainted with her and thinks most highly of the woman. I understand she is one of the unlucky ones of whom you spoke.”
“She taught me . . . ,” Sev began, his throat constricting. “She showed me the value of . . . of someone like me.”
We’re not popular, people like us. Too many deceptions, too many whispered secrets and mysterious missions. But we’re useful.
“I’m a lousy animage,” he continued, his voice growing stronger, “and a worse soldier. But I’m made for work like hers. So yes, I want to be a spy. Surely you have need for one, given what’s just happened.”
The commander bristled slightly, as if Sev were criticizing his operation. “The problem with spies, soldier, is that information goes both ways.”
Sev thought of the boy from the courtyard—Elliot, they’d called him, the informant Trix had spoken about.
“Then you don’t have anything to fear from me. I know nothing of this place”—Sev waved his good hand—“or how you run it. At least, nothing that the rest of the survivors won’t know and report as soon as they make it back. Some must have escaped your sweeps.”
The commander’s brows descended into a frown. “We have only yours and Elliot’s rough estimations at how many the empire sent here, so yes, most likely there were survivors.”
“Then I’ll return with them and pick up where I left off—as an ani-mage hiding in the empire’s military. I’ve even got a wound to show for my participation in the battle. No doubt Lord Rolan will want to speak with me.”
Before Sev finished speaking, the commander sat bolt upright, his hands gripping the armrests of his chair. “You report to Lord Rolan specifically? Not the Council of Governors?”
Sev was taken aback by his reaction—the man had been so serene and measured up until now. Apparently this was something Elliot hadn’t known or hadn’t yet revealed. “Yes, sir. Well, I reported to Captain Belden, who was my commanding officer, and he reported to Lord Rolan. I trained in his Aura Nova compound. When the mission was announced, Captain Belden called it a special assignment for Lord Rolan. He made no mention of the council.”