When no one was looking his way, Sev slipped back into the trees with the llama in tow, disappearing in a flap of ferns and bowing branches.
His heart hammered in his ears, the thump of adrenaline so loud, he didn’t hear the footsteps of the person who followed him.
An arrow through the heart, and my world went up in flames.
- CHAPTER 16 -
VERONYKA
THE FIRST FEW DAYS at Azurec’s Eyrie were a blur, though most of what Veronyka did remember revolved around food. Never in her life had she been able to eat as much as she wanted—and even go back for seconds—for every meal of the day, and that wasn’t including the extra sweet cakes and fresh rolls Morra slipped her every time she passed the kitchens. The cook didn’t like to see people who looked underfed—particularly not young Pyraean children.
It was somewhat of a shock for Veronyka to realize that she’d never been properly full in her whole life. With it came a pang of sadness for the girl she used to be, hungry and scared and alone. Guilt threatened to surface when she remembered that Val was likely still living that way, but she refused to let it take hold. They could have had this life together if Val had ever listened to Veronyka or let her weigh in on their decisions. Veronyka had earned this comfort, and she was determined to enjoy it.
Her work as a stablehand kept her busy, running errands and tending animals from dawn until dusk, and she was so tired that she usually fell into bed at the end of each day—though she’d had to adjust to doing so in a room with over twenty other people. That also meant shoring up her mental defenses, lest she be plagued with dreams about families, hobbies, and romances that were not her own.
Her duties took her all over the stronghold and village, and she wasn’t just in charge of mucking out the stables, as she had expected; she was responsible for the welfare of every animal they had. That meant the horses and hunting dogs, the llamas that provided wool and served as beasts of burden, and the pigeons that carried messages across the mountain. They took care of goats, rabbits, chickens, and even the cats that kept the stronghold free of mice and rats.
It had been strange, at first, to see so many people on a daily basis—stranger still that they were constantly smiling and nodding at her. Most of the servants, guards, and other occupants of the stronghold and village came from either Montascent or Petratec, the closest settlements on Pyrmont. There was the odd person from farther down the mountain—like Veronyka—but recruiting that close to the border was dangerous. By banding together, the people of Montascent and Petratec—who were usually rather isolated and closed off—had access to work and resources, and the Eyrie got the helpers, fighters, and craftspeople they needed without risking exposure.
The result was a familiar, friendly atmosphere—and Veronyka was surprised how at home she felt. She was used to keeping her head down to avoid notice and sticking close to Val’s shadow, but here she could watch and wonder and ask questions all day long. Veronyka learned more in her first week than she’d learned in years, and very little of it was about animals or magic. She’d caught serious trouble for cutting through Old Ana’s vegetable garden on her very first day, but by her fourth, Old Ana was enlisting her help in pulling up potatoes and mending the wooden trellis that held snaking vines of cucumber and sugar snap peas. It had taken Veronyka days of lurking outside his forge to work up the courage to ask the Ferronese metalsmith about his craft, but she now knew the exact color heated iron should be when it was ready to be worked, as well as the difference between forging, welding, and finishing.
Best of all, Veronyka spent most of her days outside, not skulking in a cabin. And every time a mounted phoenix soared through the sky on a training exercise or patrol shift, her heart leapt into the air—only to flop back down again. Xephyra should be here with her. They should be soaring through the sky together. Even the thought of joining the Riders someday sent a similar mix of joy and regret flickering through her, as if seeking a new bondmate were a betrayal of Xephyra’s memory.
She often spotted Tristan among the apprentices, his squared shoulders and stiff jaw visible even at a distance, and Veronyka couldn’t help the stab of resentment the sight of him produced. He’d been so willing to see the worst in her, done everything he could to prove her story false and bar her acceptance here. What if he was telling the other Riders that she was no good and turning them against her? She’d need one of them as a sponsor when the next recruitment came, and all she wanted was a fair chance to prove herself worthy.
The problem was, she wasn’t the only one.
There were five stablehands aside from herself, and all of them were animages. She had no doubt that they were awaiting their chance for recruitment, the same as her, and it made for a somewhat tense, competitive environment.
“Can I help with that?” she asked Petyr one morning several weeks into her time at the Eyrie. They were saddling the new crop of horses the commander had recently purchased and readying them to meet their new riders—the apprentices.
Petyr, a local boy from Petratec, was struggling to bridle Wind—the most challenging of the horses and Veronyka’s personal favorite—who was lifting his head high like the proud, stubborn creature he was, keeping his mouth firmly out of reach.
Petyr ignored Veronyka’s offer and instead flipped the nearest barrel upside down and stood atop it to get a better reach. Veronyka bit her tongue, anticipating the trouble right before it happened. Wind obediently lowered his head—only to toss it directly into Petyr’s chest, butting him from his perch. The boy went careening to the ground with a shout, and everyone in the stables looked in their direction.
Veronyka rushed to help him from the hay-strewn ground while giving Wind a stern, chastising glare over her shoulder.
Jana came hurrying up, and all it took was one look at the horse in question to give her a sense of what had happened. “Leave Wind to Nyk, Petyr, and help Loran with one of the easier mounts.”
Neglecting Veronyka’s outstretched hand, Petyr got to his feet and stormed off.
Veronyka sighed, bending down to scoop up the bridle.
It was always like this.
She had established her talent early on, and Jana, who came from a long line of Stellan horse breeders, was quick to use her whenever a challenging situation demanded it. Veronyka was only trying to help, but she could understand how her enthusiasm—and her skill—might be seen negatively by her peers, who were now constantly overlooked in favor of her. They were trying to prove themselves too, and so Veronyka did her best to ignore when the other stablehands whispered alone together or took their meals without her in the dining hall. She was sure she’d earn their respect—if not their affection—in time. Or at least, she hoped.
“I guess we’re both everyone’s least favorite, eh, Wind?” she murmured, rubbing her hand along his smooth flank. Digging in her pocket, she held out a carrot she’d begged from Old Ana before she’d arrived for duty that morning.
Wind perked up, but she held it out of reach. “Only if you’re good,” she chided, showing him the bridle. He huffed through his nostrils, then resentfully bowed his head.
Veronyka grinned.
She and the rest of the stablehands guided the horses in a single line—ten of them total—through the village and out to the pastures beyond the wall, near the steps down to the way station. The horses had been purchased from a breeder in the Foothills who specialized in crossing the elegant Stellan bloodlines of the valley with sturdier mountain horses.