Tristan pulled a skeptical expression. He had never enjoyed lording over animals, but asking them nicely when they needed to obey was simply out of the question. Even his bond with Rex, which had developed into a trusting friendship, started out as Rider and mount. Master and servant.
If there was a mental equivalent to an eye roll, Rex did so just then, his exasperation seeping through the bond. To the phoenix, their connection made them a pair, equals. His magic strengthened Tristan’s, and likewise, Tristan’s human logic and understanding of the world increased Rex’s intelligence. Phoenixes weren’t like regular animals, and their centuries-long bond with humans was part of the reason why.
With a shake of his head, Tristan pushed Rex’s thoughts from his mind. The suggestion that he could interact with a dog in the same way he interacted with a phoenix—to whom he was magically bonded—made no sense at all.
He looked up at the darkening sky; his time was running out. Nyk’s words about control nagged at him, but they obviously came from youth and inexperience. Tristan was doing what he was taught to do, and surely his father—a veteran of the Blood War—knew more about animal magic than an unbonded sixteen-year-old kid.
“While your observations are fascinating, this is how animages have been taught for generations. We need these animals to be obedient; we don’t need them to be our friends. And I will not lose him,” he said, nodding down at the dog.
Tristan continued the course, leaving Nyk behind, pushing extra hard for fear that his tiredness would prove the boy right.
As he turned the corner and prepared for the final leg, Rex’s boredom filtered through the bond, making it difficult for Tristan to concentrate. The pigeon on his shoulder itched to stretch her wings and dig for grubs, and Storm had caught wind of the rabbit cage again. The scent flooded the dog’s nostrils, and anticipation coursed through his veins.
Then, out of nowhere, a loud whack echoed through the silence. It came from across the course, where Nyk stood just below the archery target, a tree branch in hand. He’d clearly just knocked it against the wooden frame, and the distraction stripped Tristan of his hold on the animals.
With a grim smile, Nyk cocked his arm back and flung the branch as far as he could. Before Tristan could scrabble to regain control, the dog was off after it, the pigeon took flight, and the horse beneath him tossed his head and reared, almost unseating him. The only animal who remained doing what he was supposed to was Rex, whose boredom had quite evaporated as he watched the scene below.
Without so much as a glance in Tristan’s direction, Nyk strode to their supplies and readied for their departure.
Tristan didn’t bother trying to finish the course or calling his lost animals back to the starting point. He rode over to where Nyk stood and leapt from his horse.
“What in the dark realms was that?”
Rex landed next to them, and his arrival was the first thing to make Nyk turn Tristan’s way since he threw the stick. He gazed longingly at the phoenix, eyes bright with reverence.
“If you refuse to order your animals about, then tell me, how did you get the horse—”
“Wind,” Nyk interjected, whirling around to face him. “Your horse’s name is Wind. You don’t call this beautiful creature”—he gestured to Rex—“the bird, do you?”
Rex cocked his head, waiting for Tristan’s response.
“What? No. His name is Rex.”
Nyk nodded, staring at the phoenix. “Yes, that suits you, you regal-looking fellow.”
“Stop that,” Tristan snapped as Rex drew himself up straighter and puffed out his chest. Tristan’s self-righteous anger was deflating in the face of this boy’s obvious affection for his bondmate. “Scat,” he told Rex, who ruffled his feathers and took off.
Tristan turned to Nyk. “If all you do is charm and flatter the animals, then how did you get Wind to obey you so easily this morning? You’re telling me you asked nicely and didn’t force your will, your magic, on him? Only Rex has ever obeyed me like that.”
Nyk sighed, as if Tristan had asked him this question a thousand times and he was tired of answering it. He turned away before responding. “I just convinced him, is all.”
“You just convinced him?” Tristan repeated skeptically. “Don’t lie to me,” he said, thinking of his father’s constant games and deceptions. “There’s nothing worse than a liar.”
“I’m not lying,” Nyk answered hotly. “And the reason he obeyed instantly, and without hesitation, is that he was familiar with me already. If you befriend the animals, if you treat them as equals, they’ll trust you, and once they trust you, they’ll obey you. Without a command and without question. That’s what I meant with Storm today. If he trusted you, he’d have stayed by your side.”
Tristan shook his head. It was absurd. “You’re too soft-hearted for this line of work—like a little girl who wants to cuddle puppies.”
Nyk’s face contorted in outrage. “As opposed to you—too manly to admit when you’re wrong? To admit that sometimes being kind is better than being cruel? Deny it all you want, but I know you’re as soft-hearted as me, xe xie.”
With that, Nyk stomped back up to the village, the rabbit cage tucked under his arm, while the pigeon, the dog, Wind—even Rex, soaring through the air—followed like a row of ducklings behind.
Tristan gaped after him, stunned that the boy had the nerve to speak to him that way. But as the shock wore off, his mind replayed the events of that morning, when he’d first met Wind. No matter what he said to Nyk, it was his instinct to be kind and gentle to animals. His father had done his best to change this, but whenever Tristan was scared or nervous, it was his default.
“Xe xie . . . ,” he murmured, shaking his head. It was what his mother had called him as a young boy, the Pyraean words ingrained in his memory, while her face faded a little more each day. Sweet one . . . dear one . . . Tristan hadn’t realized that he’d said those words out loud before. Maybe that was why his father had punished him so severely. The commander’s ancient Pyraean was a little bit rusty, but surely even he would remember that phrase.
Tristan stood in the field for a long time, night descending around him, before finally walking back through the darkness alone.
POSTMORTEM EXAMINATION
Deceased: King Aryk Ashfire
Birth: Day 27, Twelfth Moon, 129 AE
Death: Day 6, Fifth Moon, 165 AE
Age: 35
Witness Account: Queen Lania of Stel
On the evening of Day 5, Fifth Moon, 165 AE, Queen Lania claims that King Aryk wished to retire early after dinner, citing stomach pains and exhibiting fever symptoms. When Lania joined him in his chambers several hours later, it was to find him in bed, unresponsive, with a burning fever and vomit-covered sheets.
The king was placed under High Priestess Deidra’s care, and the court sat vigil at his bedside. The sickness took him before eighth bell on the afternoon of the following day.
Witness Account: Fenton, captain of the King’s Guard
Captain Fenton claims King Aryk retired on the evening of Day 5, Fifth Moon, 165 AE, in good spirits, intending to have an early morning walk with his beloved hounds. He had no visible signs of illness or discomfort.