“He was already up to scratch without my help,” Veronyka said stoutly, and Tristan flashed her a surprised, grateful look.
“Well, if they want to send servants over to help the apprentices, I’d be more than happy to let one of the washer girls whip me into shape,” Latham said, grinning and waggling his eyebrows. “Or maybe one of Morra’s kitchen maids . . .”
“Poor Latham, always pining for company. Almost as bad as Elliot here, going on and on about the girls back home,” said Anders, slinging an arm around him.
“I’m not pining,” Elliot protested, blushing as he shrugged Anders’s arm off his shoulders. “And I don’t go on and on—it’s my sister I talk about, not—”
“Leave him alone,” said Ronyn, sounding bored. He was one of the older apprentices and had clearly had his fill of Anders’s and Latham’s antics.
“Nyk here agrees, don’t you?” Anders asked, tossing his arm around Veronyka instead. “You’d like to see more girls about, wouldn’t you?”
“Of course,” Veronyka said. The others laughed in delight, but she didn’t mean it the way they meant it—she just wanted to see female Riders. She cast an exasperated glance at Tristan, but to her surprise, he avoided her gaze. His face seemed oddly flushed; was he embarrassed by her being there? Veronyka didn’t mind the teasing—it was far less malicious than Val’s constant jibes and sarcastic remarks—but it seemed that Tristan did. She felt the need to change the subject.
“What I meant,” Veronyka said, copying Elliot and throwing Anders’s arm off her, “is that there should be girl apprentices. For training.”
“Well, there’s something you and Elliot can agree on,” Anders said, still smirking. “So, is that why you’re here?”
Veronyka’s heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?”
Anders raised an eyebrow. “To train?”
“Oh—yes. Well, sort of. I . . .”
“I’m helping him get in shape for the next recruitment,” Tristan said.
“What’s the point?” said Ronyn.
“What do you mean?” Veronyka asked. She couldn’t tell if his tone was negative or just disinterested like before.
His gaze flicked to Tristan and the others. “There, well—”
“We don’t have any eggs,” Anders cut in, the jovial attitude missing from his voice for the first time. “Haven’t found any in months. You’d have a better shot laying one yourself than finding one here.”
The tone of the group changed, the laughing and joking replaced by a somewhat strained silence. Veronyka was staring at Tristan, but he wouldn’t look at her. He’d known this all along. Why hadn’t he told her? Why had he pretended she had a chance—offering extra training and even promising to sponsor her—when he’d known there was no way it would actually happen? Maybe that was why he’d done it. . . . It was a debt he’d never have to repay.
When Beryk walked into the fenced area and called them to attention, Veronyka took the opportunity to slip away, past Tristan and out of the training yard.
It was still an hour until Veronyka would be expected to begin her duties for the day, but she went to the stables anyway. It was dark and quiet inside, and the presence of the animals soothed her. Veronyka’s magic had grown strong in her time here, the way it had when she’d been with Xephyra. While being around phoenixes strengthened her powers, bonding with one had helped even more.
Before Xephyra, and before Veronyka’s arrival at the Eyrie, she would have to see an animal in order to connect with them and communicate. Now she was able to walk through the dusty room with her eyes closed and sense what horse was behind each door, which cats were slinking in the shadows, and if there were any doves or starlings perched up in the rafters. Birds and mammals were always easiest for her magic to find, reptiles and water creatures the most difficult. Apparently it had to do with the similarity in mind and behavior. The larger the differences between them—like habitat and diet—the more difficult to connect to.
Familiarity helped, too, so Veronyka was able to reach out to the animals inside the stable with the barest thought.
Finding Wind’s stall in her mind, she opened her eyes and slipped inside. Taking a seat on the ground next to him, she patted him gently on the nose as he drifted back to sleep, swaying slightly to the steady rhythm of his breathing.
Helplessness was weighing her down, the sensation familiar after years of Val controlling her life. Now that Veronyka was free from that, she hated the idea of sliding backward into that same futility. After her time training with Tristan, she’d started to feel like she was on the right track, building toward her future, but now? It felt like she was right back where she’d started.
“Nyk?” came a hesitant voice from beyond the door.
Veronyka froze. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be found, but her hiding place wasn’t exactly foolproof. A minute later the door swung open, and Tristan stood there.
“How did you find me?” she asked ruefully.
“I saw you run toward the stables, and then I asked Wind,” he said, glancing at Veronyka’s stall mate, the corner of his mouth quirking. He patted Wind’s hindquarters and sidled into the room, sinking down onto the ground next to her. He leaned against the wall and drew up his knees, resting his elbows on them.
Veronyka scowled at the horse, who blew a dignified puff of air out through his nostrils.
“Don’t you have training right now?” she pressed.
Tristan shrugged. They sat in silence for a moment, then . . .
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she blurted. “Why pretend like you could help me—all that stuff about extra training and sponsorship—when you knew it was never going to happen? Why lie? Did you feel sorry for me or something?”
Tristan dropped his knee and turned to face her. “No, it’s not—it wasn’t like that. And I didn’t lie. I just didn’t bother mentioning it because it’s not never. It’s just not right now.”
“If you don’t have any eggs—”
“We’ll get some,” Tristan said firmly.
Veronyka put her head in her hands. “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”
“You’re helping me,” Tristan said, forcing a smile. “You saw the mess I made during that first obstacle course. If you weren’t there, things might have gone really bad for me . . . and Wind,” he added, reaching up to pat the horse’s wide, barrel chest.
Veronyka tried to smile too, but she just couldn’t muster it.
“We need smart, talented people like you here,” he continued. He was staring resolutely at the ground between them when he added, “I need you here.”
Veronyka swallowed with difficulty, her throat tightening. The surge of happiness she felt at his words was quickly replaced by heavy guilt. He’d trusted her with his darkest secret, and yet she hadn’t reciprocated. But how could she? Tristan hated liars—he’d said there was nothing worse. Sure, he might have skirted the truth about the eggs, but being Nyk every day, Veronyka was living a lie—it colored everything she did, every interaction she had. Veronyka didn’t feel like a boy on the inside—she wasn’t like some of the other children she’d known growing up who might be born as boys or girls but didn’t feel like they fit that category, and so they dressed in a way that felt right to them. That was their truth, no matter what the world saw. But Veronyka wasn’t Nyk; she was Veronyka. Nyk was a lie.