If Val hadn’t been so controlling and cruel, Veronyka could have come to the Eyrie with her own phoenix. She could’ve met Tristan as herself, as Veronyka, and trained with him and the other apprentices. He would have been better than her at first, but she’d have caught up to him. She’d have taught him what she knew about animal magic, and he would have helped her learn horseback riding and archery. Before long they would have soared through the sky as equals: Riders, warriors, and friends.
Tristan was already there when she arrived in the training yard later that morning, leaning against a barrel of practice weapons and dressed in his fitted training gear.
He opened his mouth to greet her, but Veronyka interrupted him, unable to bear it a second longer. “Thanks for, uh, getting me back to my bed last night.”
Tristan appeared startled at first. Then he grinned shyly, the barest hint of his dimples showing. “No problem,” he said, handing her the recurved bow that Veronyka had practiced with before.
After several shaky attempts, she managed to string it, and they made their way over to the targets. The training area was tucked against a corner of the stronghold’s walls, with a wooden fence on two sides. Targets lined the base of the stone wall, while soft sand combat areas and padded dummies filled the rest of the space. Next to the targets was a small wooden shed, which Tristan disappeared into, emerging several moments later with two quivers and a longbow.
“Might as well get in some practice,” he said, in response to her unasked question. “Don’t worry. You’ll still have my undivided attention should you need it.”
She felt moderately better that he was at least getting in some exercise for himself instead of devoting his entire day to her. Again the sense of the imbalance between them nagged at her.
A group of servants cut through the far corner of the yard, accompanied by Anders, Latham, and some other apprentices. They laughed and chatted excitedly, and Tristan glanced in their direction. They waved and called him over, but he shook his head and indicated his bow.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go with the others?” Veronyka asked, keeping her eyes on the bow in her hands—and not his face. They couldn’t have a proper solstice celebration up here, since the last thing they wanted was to draw attention to themselves, but the commander did allow a small group of villagers from Petratec and Montascent to come and participate. Apparently most of the servants and craftspeople who lived at the Eyrie were from those two villages, along with several of the Riders.
The visiting villagers brought arts and crafts to sell, fine clothes and jewelry, and participated in the games that were being held in the open field where the obstacle course usually took place. Later there would be music in the dining hall, while everyone enjoyed a large feast. At the very end of the night the phoenixes would take to the skies.
Tristan’s feet moved into her line of sight, and she looked up to meet his eyes. He was frowning. “I already told you I don’t want to do that. This is about getting you some time with proper targets and equipment.”
Veronyka nodded, but she didn’t answer.
“What’s troubling you, Nyk?” he asked, sticking the pointed end of his bow into the ground and leaning against it for support. “Do you not want to train?”
Veronyka struggled with the words. “No, of course I do! I just—I’ll never be able to repay you for all this help.”
He considered her for a moment, the morning sun casting his features into a haze of warm brown and gold. “I never said you had to. Besides, it’s thanks to you the commander is even giving me a patrol in the first place.”
“You’d have gotten that on your own eventually,” Veronyka said. “But what you’re giving me . . . the chance at being a Rider . . . I can’t give it back. I can’t match it.”
“Nyk—we’re friends now, all right? And that’s not how friendship works. Besides, we’ve both got a long way to go. I’m not patrol leader yet, and you’re not an apprentice. So, enough talk, and show me what you’ve got.”
He jerked his chin toward the targets. With a reluctant smile, Veronyka did as she was told.
They shot arrows all morning, moving from the large beginner targets to smaller, more difficult shots. Veronyka thought she was getting the hang of it, even though her muscles were stiff and screaming with pain. Tristan shot from much farther back, his longbow’s range outstripping the small bow she used.
At lunchtime Tristan disappeared into the dining hall and returned with a flagon of water and a basket of fruit, bread, and cheese.
They were just talking about calling it quits, the late-afternoon sun stretching their shadows across the ground, when they heard a commotion from outside the training yard. The open gate revealed a swarm of people around the entrance to the stronghold.
Tristan grinned. “The minstrels are here.”
Along with artisans and fellow revelers, Petratec and Montascent always sent a troupe of performers, including minstrels and puppeteers. They carried their instruments and dolls in oiled bags or carefully sealed boxes and wore colorful tunics and headscarves. They were welcomed warmly and directed into the dining hall to unload their supplies. One little girl shrieked with glee at the sight of a Princess Pearl puppet dangling from a box, while others begged for their favorite songs and stories.
As the crowd shifted, one of the headscarf wearers turned, and a wisp of red hair, twisted with braids and beads, slipped out from underneath its cover. Veronyka spotted a shimmering seashell, sparkling in the hazy sunlight.
Her heart stopped.
Slowly, as if she could sense Veronyka there, the scarf wearer lifted her head. Dark eyes locked onto Veronyka’s, and the blood drained from her face.
Val.
Day 29, Third Moon, 169 AE
Pheronia,
You are forcing my hand. The longer you remain silent, the more dangerous our situation becomes. Do you think you are infallible, locked away in your fortress? Do you think you have won already?
I am coming, xe Onia. Prepare yourself.
—A
But apart we were lesser, weaker versions of ourselves. How they rejoiced to see us torn asunder.
- CHAPTER 27 -
SEV
I’LL DO IT.
The words rang in Sev’s ears from the moment they left his mouth, as if the entire world had shifted in the speaking of them. He heard them over and over during the following days, as he went about his chores, eating and sleeping, a constant refrain in his mind.
Trix had smiled like a fool when he’d volunteered, and Sev saw in her face that she’d known he’d come around, that the whole thing had been a bluff. For some reason, it didn’t bother him the way it once might have. After constantly suffering at the hands of others, he was at last an active participant in the events around him, finally giving his parents something to be proud of. It made Sev’s every footstep lighter, his thoughts almost carefree.
But as the details of Trix’s plan unfurled, he knew that his decision would come at a cost. He would be expected to kill, to become a traitor to his fellow soldiers. Sev didn’t relish the thought, but his loyalty didn’t belong to them. For most of his life it had belonged only to himself, but no longer. Being a soldier at all was a betrayal of his parents and all they’d fought for, and if anyone deserved his loyalty, it was them. He would serve the Phoenix Rider cause, whatever the cost.