Several breaths passed, and the air between them grew thick with anticipation.
He turned, as if meaning to walk away, but stopped himself. He wavered, then looked back at Veronyka once more. She couldn’t read his expression, and before she could begin to unravel his thoughts, he closed his eyes, bowed his head, and turned resolutely back to the stairs.
With the sound of his retreating footsteps, the world came alive once more: the commotion of the courtyard above, the shifting of feathers in the enclosure behind her, the smell of burning fires and oil lamps. Even the colors had returned, drenching the ground beneath her in fire-red and ash-gray.
It was as if nothing had changed. And everything.
“Come on,” said Val, resting a hand on Veronyka’s shoulder. Her voice was gentle but firm. “Let’s get out of here, back to my room. You can get changed, and I’ll take care of everything. I’ll free Xephyra, and you’ll never have to worry about the breeding cages again. You’ll never have to hide who and what you are. We’ll get out of here before the fighting starts and make our way to safety. Together.”
The words washed over Veronyka. They were soothing, the kind of words a mother spoke to a daughter, a leader to their troops: confident assurances that everything would be okay.
Empty words, really.
Val would take care of everything. Veronyka knew that, and there was a tiny part of her that was tempted to give in to her sister’s promises. But the relief that decision would bring would be temporary. Val was a warrior, and peace suited her for only so long. She didn’t want to build a shelter from the storm; she wanted to break the very winds that would dare to shake her.
And Veronyka was tired of fighting a battle she knew she’d never win.
“No, Val,” she said. She was still on her knees, staring at the ground beneath her, dark hair hanging in her eyes.
“What?” Val said, dropping her hand from Veronyka’s shoulder.
Taking a deep breath, Veronyka got to her feet. The scraps of her tunic blew in the evening breeze, but she didn’t cover herself. While exposing her might have revealed to Tristan that she had lied, it didn’t reveal her true self. Veronyka knew that person, and Tristan did too, and nothing about her body changed that.
“I said no,” Veronyka repeated, fighting to keep her voice steady. “Never again. It will never be you and me, together, ever again.”
“Xe Nyka—” Val said, but Veronyka cut her off.
“Don’t call me that—don’t you dare call me that. I’ve had enough, Val,” she said, her throat tight with a lifetime of pent-up emotions. “I’ve tried to give you the benefit of the doubt. I’ve tried over and over to see you as a good person, to believe that you believed you were doing the right thing. That you wanted to protect me, that you cared about me.”
“But I do,” Val said. Veronyka looked into her eyes and knew that Val believed her own words—or maybe she’d gotten so good at lying, she didn’t know when she lied to herself.
“If you cared about me, you wouldn’t have killed my bondmate. You couldn’t possibly understand the pain it caused me, but if you had even considered it, you’d never have done it.”
“You’re wrong,” Val said, but Veronyka spoke over her.
“You came here with one goal in mind: to ruin my happiness. This is the only place I’ve ever felt like I belonged, like I was safe.”
“You were safe with me,” Val said, eyes blazing.
“But who would keep me safe from you?”
“You think he will?” she spat, pointing to the stairwell where Tristan had disappeared. “You think he can protect you and care for you the way I have? This so-called safety and belonging you felt? It was based on a lie. He doesn’t even know you. He doesn’t know who you are or what you’re capable of.”
“He knows me better than you,” Veronyka said, and Val laughed disdainfully. Veronyka shrugged, refusing to let her sister get under her skin. “And what he doesn’t know, he’ll learn—they all will. I know things aren’t perfect here, but I want to help them change. I want to make a difference, to be a part of something greater than myself. Avalkyra Ashfire wasn’t great on her own. . . . She was great because our people rallied behind her. She was great because she brought us all together.”
“Avalkyra Ashfire was great because she set the world on fire, because she let nothing and no one stand in the way of what she wanted.” Val’s voice was raw and ragged, dripping with emotion.
“There was one person who stood in her way,” Veronyka said, her voice soft as she considered her words. “Her sister.”
Val’s face was almost unrecognizable when she spoke, her mouth a dark slash and her eyes empty, hollow pools. “No, Veronyka. Not even death could stand in her way.”
“Maybe not,” Veronyka said with a tired sigh, “but this is where I want to be. This is my home.”
“No,” Val said, shaking her head forcefully, causing her tangled auburn braids to whip from side to side. “Your home always was, and always will be, with me.”
“Not anymore.”
“And if they kick you out for your lies?” Her eyes were overly bright, glistening in the darkness, but no tears fell.
“If they do, then at least I will have tried. I used to think you were the bravest person I knew, Val, but what you’re doing isn’t bravery. It’s cowardice. It’s time for me to stand and fight.”
Val’s face contorted at the word “cowardice,” but otherwise she remained perfectly, deathly still. Veronyka thought that maybe, finally, her words had penetrated Val’s stubborn mind. She braced herself. Would Val lash out in anger? Would she strike Veronyka down and drag her away whether she liked it or not?
“You want to fight, do you?” she said, tone as blank as a starless sky. “Then I hope for your sake, Veronyka, that you’ve chosen the right side.”
She turned on her heel and disappeared into the stairwell.
Gone.
Veronyka sagged against the bars behind her. The last time she’d really argued with Val, the night she’d run away, she’d been acting on pure rage and adrenaline. And a part of her knew—or maybe even hoped—that they’d cross paths again. But this was different. There was emotion, but Veronyka had made this decision with her head as well as her heart. Her lips trembled, and her breath turned uneven. Why did it have to be this way? Why did Val, her sister, her only family in the world, have to be the one person who hurt her the most?
Sudden footsteps sounded, and Tristan appeared at the bottom of the stairs. Veronyka lurched to her feet. Once he saw that Veronyka was alone, he flushed, dropping his gaze. Remembering that her breasts were exposed, Veronyka crossed her arms over her chest.
“Tristan, I—”
“We don’t have time for that,” he said shortly, eyes on the ground between them. He held a fresh tunic in his hand and tossed it in her direction.
She caught it and hastened to tug it over her head, turning away from him as she scrambled to poke her arms through the sleeves. The fabric was softer than what she was used to, smooth against her skin, and it was much too big—it must belong to him. She ran her hands over the expensive cotton, the smell of Tristan clinging to her fingertips.