Physical Examination
Date: Day 7, Fifth Moon, 165 AE
Conducted by: Deidra, High Priestess of Hael, and Ilithya, Acolyte of Hael
No evidence of forced entry or struggle. An empty cup was found on King Aryk’s bedside table, as he was well-known to enjoy a glass of spiced honey wine before bed, which he would fix for himself. The cask of wine, honey, and spices were all checked for poison or spoilage, but no toxic materials or signs of tampering were discovered. Body exhibited symptoms of intense fever, dehydration, and stomach illness.
Diagnosis: Death of natural causes, possibly phoenix flu, sweating sickness, or other airborne virus.
Update
Date: Day 10, Fifth Moon, 165 AE
Conducted by: Ilithya, Acolyte of Hael
Empty cup examined, and trace amounts of suspicious, dark residue discovered embedded into ridges of the embossed metal. The chalice was known to be the king’s favorite, an Ashfire heirloom once belonging to Ferronese King Damian himself. Further testing required to identify the nature of the substance.
The only people with access to the king’s bedchamber—and his private collection of favored treasures—were himself and his wife, Queen Lania.
Sometimes the title of queen is given; sometimes it must be taken. And sometimes the honor becomes so drenched in blood and betrayal that it is slippery to the touch, but we reach for it nonetheless, poison on our fingers and vengeance in our hearts.
- CHAPTER 19 -
VERONYKA
VERONYKA HID IN THE kitchens during dinner.
She was still angry with Tristan, and he was definitely still angry with her, so she didn’t want to see him any sooner than she had to. Morra put her to work the moment she sidled in, but Veronyka didn’t mind. She picked at a plate of honey-drizzled sweet cakes that the cook set out for her, while using a mold to cut pastries from a flattened length of dough. She plopped the rounds onto a nearby tray, while Morra rolled the remaining bits into fresh sheets for her to cut.
As long as Veronyka kept her mind occupied, she didn’t fear the woman’s shadow magic. As far as she could tell, Morra didn’t use it unless absolutely necessary.
Of course, Morra didn’t need shadow magic to know that something was bothering her. When Tristan walked past the open archway that led into the kitchen on his way to the dining hall, Veronyka couldn’t help the scowl that crossed her face.
“I think it’s cut, lad,” Morra said dryly. Veronyka looked at the woman, confused, until she nodded down at the piece of pastry Veronyka had been cutting—and which she had ripped in half with a savage jerk of the mold.
“Oh, sorry,” Veronyka said, removing the cutter so Morra could gather the ruined dough and reroll it.
“What’s your issue with the lordling?” she asked, nodding in the direction of the arch Tristan had just passed through. Her gaze was knowing as she sprinkled flour onto the stone table, pressing a roller over the ball of dough, her strong arms flattening it in several short strokes.
“He’s the one with the issue,” Veronyka said. She knew she was responsible for some of his animosity; she shouldn’t have commented on his magic—or pried into it at all, even if it was mostly by accident—and she probably shouldn’t have stepped in that morning at the training exercise. But it was clear he held other resentment toward her, thanks to her arrival on his patrol route and the questioning that came after it, and Veronyka refused to take the blame for that.
Morra laughed. “Oh, he’s not all bad. He’s got more of his mother in him than his father. Those of us who knew her see it—as soon as he sees it, things will go easier.”
“What do you mean?” Veronyka asked. “Who is his mother?”
Morra absently rubbed the thigh of her amputated leg and reached for a mug of pungent herb tea she often drank to dull the pain.
“Tristan’s mother, Olanna, came from a very old Pyraean family. Most think only Cassian can claim a noble lineage, being an ex-governor, but the history of the lesser kingdoms is young compared to the bloodlines of ancient Pyra. Olanna was a Flamesong, and their family tree goes all the way back to the First Riders.”
Veronyka’s heart leapt; she loved hearing about the First Riders. They were part of the Phoenix Rider creation story, legendary figures that were chosen by Axura in her fight against Nox.
Val had shown Veronyka a giant fresco in Aura Nova that had escaped the council’s purge of phoenix-related artifacts, hidden between two old buildings in a narrow alley. The plaster was peeling and the colors were faded, but it was still the grandest thing Veronyka had ever seen. It showed the battle between light and dark—Axura’s flaming phoenixes pitted against Nox’s darkness, depicted as ink-black birds trailing wisps of shadow. Strixes, Val had called them, and the word had caused a chill to crawl up Veronyka’s spine. They were more than just death and darkness personified; they were harbingers of the end of the world.
The entire thing sounded more myth than history to Veronyka, but until this day Phoenix Riders claimed descent from those mighty warriors. Val said the First Rider Queen was an Ashfire, the start of an unbroken line that ruled for a thousand years—starting in the Queendom of Pyra and then in the Golden Empire, up until the Blood War tore everything apart.
“Cassian’s family ruled Ferro—as kings in the beginning, and then as governors,” Morra continued. “It was some great-great-great-uncle of his that married Elysia and ruled as king consort when the empire was founded and then elevated his brother to the role of governor in his homeland. Tristan’s certainly got the look of his father, but right here”—Morra tapped a finger to her chest—“he’s his mother. It’s from her that he gets his compassion and his sense of right and wrong. His temper, on the other hand, is Cassian through and through.” Morra leaned in, lowering her voice. “They say there’s Stellan blood in the commander’s line, and that’s where he gets his love for plots and politics—though I’m sure he’d deny it until his dying breath.”
Veronyka smirked. Stellans had a reputation as troublemakers and warmongers. At least, that’s what Val had told her. Stel was the largest and most powerful of the provinces, and before it was part of the empire, it was a commonwealth of more than a dozen kingdoms. The kingdoms spent centuries warring among themselves as much as with their neighbors—usually Ferro, with whom they shared a border—and had difficulty reaching satisfactory terms with Queen Elysia’s growing empire. Stel was the last region to join and had apparently been heavily involved in the Blood War, backing Pheronia—who was Stellan on her mother’s side—against Avalkyra and providing military and financial support.
“Did Olanna fight in the Blood War?” Veronyka asked.
“Oh yes. She served the Feather-Crowned Queen, same as her husband, and even when the final battle was lost, she continued to fight. While Cassian met with the council, asking for clemency and offering up information in order to keep his governor position, Olanna was helping hide Riders and their families. It wasn’t just Avalkyra’s soldiers being captured and killed—anyone with animal magic was in danger. Olanna smuggled hundreds out of the valley and safely into Pyra. She smuggled me out, even though it looked like I might die from my wound. She was a good woman, Olanna.”