Heart of Flames, page 25
Veronyka swallowed, her mind racing. Surely it couldn’t be Val…. She hated the empire and everyone in it.
“And what do we plan to do about it?” Tristan asked, arms crossed. “We should try to make contact with them, see if they’re actually on his side, and if not—maybe they could be persuaded to join ours instead.”
Hope ignited inside Veronyka. She could show the commander her list of surviving Riders—maybe he’d even let her help seek them out? Wishful thinking, but Veronyka couldn’t help it.
The commander shook his head. “Whatever’s happening with these other Phoenix Riders is happening inside the empire. Pyra is our domain, and it’s where we must draw the line. Our forces are already severely outnumbered. We can’t be lured into some wild-goose chase or into splintering our factions any more than they already need to be.”
“But Commander—” Tristan interjected, but his father cut him off.
“We can’t afford to fight two battles at once; we don’t have enough warriors to watch the border, never mind what’s happening beyond it. End of discussion.”
Tristan’s arms dropped to his sides, hands clenched into fists. Veronyka knew he wanted to disagree—she wanted to argue herself—but the commander wasn’t wrong. Their resources were already spread so thin. Whatever those Phoenix Riders were doing, until it involved Pyra and the war… they just didn’t have the time to deal with it. Unless… could she find the time?
In the quiet that followed Tristan and the commander’s exchange, Latham raised his hand. “So… about Vayle,” he said. “Is it all six of us? Even without passing the trials?”
Veronyka’s face heated as everyone turned to look in her direction. She’d been wondering the same thing, though Latham’s obvious distaste for the idea stung.
“My patrol is still a member short,” Tristan pointed out, “and she came with us last time. She was a big part of why the villagers welcomed our presence.”
Veronyka’s chest tingled at the praise, though she wasn’t sure Tristan’s words were entirely true. She turned a wary look at the commander, who wore a mask of thinly veiled frustration. Veronyka suspected he was weighing whether the denial would be worth the fight that followed.
He bowed his head in acquiescence.
Veronyka’s heart soared, and Tristan beamed at her as they rushed from the room. Maybe the commander didn’t have the time and resources to investigate the Phoenix Rider sightings, but Veronyka did.
* * *
They flew to Vayle the very next day.
Part of the reason the villagers so eagerly wanted their help in construction was for the collection of wood. Most of the trees in Pyra were of the shorter, twisted variety, their crooked branches and knotted boughs poor material for building projects. There were some pockets of taller, straighter trees—likely brought to the region by settlers from Arboria North—including the nearby Silverwood to the south. With phoenixes, they could harvest trees from hours away, carrying the massive logs faster and more easily than they could hope to do by hand and horse-pulled cart. It would save days of time and effort, not to mention allow them to venture to copses of trees they wouldn’t normally be able to reach.
Besides aiding in the rebuilding, Tristan’s Riders were there to patrol. The first day was mostly setup and organization, but by the second they had begun to settle into a new routine, while Veronyka and Tristan began a routine of their own.
At night, after all their other chores and obligations were finished, they met at the edges of their camp to work on blocking shadow magic.
Spending so much time in each other’s company was in some ways counterintuitive—every moment spent together was a moment bonding, literally and magically—but Veronyka needed to tell him what she knew about shadow magic so he could attempt to muster some kind of defense.
Admittedly, her own understanding of the subject was minimal, and even Morra had had nothing to offer on the prospect of teaching a non-shadowmage how to protect themselves, but Veronyka had to try. What she had with Tristan felt strangely territorial, as if she’d marked him as her own and he had no say in the matter. At least the bond between Veronyka and Val was something they both had power over, even if Val had cultivated and manipulated it without Veronyka’s knowledge.
Veronyka wondered if bonds often formed between close-knit Riders and mated pairs, but unless one of them was a shadowmage, neither ever became aware of it. To them their link would be an instinct, a feeling… a gut reaction, nothing more.
Determined that Tristan should have some control of their connection, Veronyka used the concept of the mental safe house—storing unwanted memories or feelings inside an imaginary box at the back of one’s mind—which she’d taught Tristan to use to keep his fear of fire in check, and built upon that idea.
But no matter how much Tristan practiced strengthening his mental barriers and blocking his mind, as soon as she touched him or looked into his eyes, the bond between them opened instantly.
Veronyka wondered if she was asking the impossible, if this was as hopeless and unnatural as a Rider attempting to block their bond with their phoenix.
But even if Veronyka couldn’t find a way to block their bond, she had to at least find a way to control it. And for the time being, the only way she knew how to do that was to control her relationship with Tristan. They had to avoid the things that triggered their link, from extended time alone together to eye contact and touch. All kinds of touch.
She could see—even without their bond—that the prospect of these rigid rules and physical barriers was not something Tristan relished either. In fact, the entire thing would have been devastating, if not for Tristan’s very real—and very recent—near-death experience. They had to take these precautions seriously, and their best comfort was to remind each other over and over again that these were temporary measures.
Just until the danger with Val passed and Veronyka’s mind became a safe space again.
Just until Veronyka got a hold on her magic. Then they’d be able to be themselves again.
Neither of them said the obvious thing, that they had no idea how to make those eventualities happen. Veronyka didn’t know if she’d ever be able to control her magic, and she couldn’t imagine a world in which she was safe from Val unless Val was no longer in that world at all. She might have deluded herself before, but now, knowing the truth? Val would never let someone as valuable as Veronyka go.
We could save lives, save the world. You and I together could change everything….
Did Val truly mean that? Did she still want them to be together, as she’d always claimed, even after everything that had passed between them? Or did she want to use Veronyka for some other purpose? Regardless, Val’s sudden silence in Veronyka’s mind—she hadn’t sensed even a whisper of Val’s presence since the relay race—felt like the calm before the storm, and she feared Val would turn up again at the worst possible time. Veronyka had to prepare herself.
The problem was, even without Val inside her head, Veronyka’s mind was a confusing, muddled place of late.
Veronyka Ashfire.
Every time her thoughts wandered in the direction of that birth certificate and what it meant, she redirected them with a savage jerk. Even if Veronyka wanted to reveal herself and embrace her bloodline, it wasn’t just about her. If she announced that she was an Ashfire, that act alone would push Val to do the same. They were bound by cause and effect, and the last thing Veronyka wanted was to add fuel to the fire of this impending war.
And if she did come forward… would anyone believe her? She had proof, but couldn’t such things be forged? Even if people did believe her… what would happen next? Was she supposed to stroll into Aura Nova and take a seat on the vacant throne? Or worse, would she be expected to fight her way to that position? There was no way the council would want some orphan girl, raised as a peasant in the Narrows, to rule over them, royal bloodline or no. Then again, many of those same council members who would deem Veronyka unfit to rule might just change their tune if the choice was between her and the Feather-Crowned Queen, who’d wreaked years of havoc and had been reborn in order to seek her final, bloody vengeance.
In order to bring them all to their knees.
Was Val trying to rope Veronyka into helping her achieve this goal, or was Veronyka just another person to be defeated in the long line to the throne? Was that what Val had meant before the attack on the Eyrie, when she’d told Veronyka she hoped she’d “chosen the right side”? Were they on opposite sides by virtue of the same reason Avalkyra and Pheronia had been on opposite sides… because there could only be one? Or had Veronyka’s mother been just as hungry to rule as Avalkyra was? Everything Val had ever told Veronyka about Pheronia painted her as someone spineless and weak…. But Veronyka had good cause to question that, now that she knew the truth about her sister.
Regardless of what had happened before, Veronyka knew that if she made any kind of bid for the throne, there would be blood. There would be war—the Blood War—all over again. So what were her choices? To take the secret to her grave? To stand aside and let Val claim what she’d come back for? Would that act of deference result in less death and destruction, or was Veronyka the only thing standing between Val and infinite, reckless power?
And what if Veronyka refused it—refused the identity she didn’t want and the role Val forced her to play? That in itself felt more like a real choice than any of the others. Was living her life and refusing to fall into the place Val expected her to its own form of rebellion?
The thoughts were too much for her to wrap her brain around, and she couldn’t talk to Tristan about it either. Not only would it counteract their attempts to block their bond, but she was afraid of what he might tell her to do… what he might expect of her. She could barely hold her own life together…. The idea that she might be expected to lead, to give orders and make decisions, was more than she could currently handle.
But there were other things she could focus on.
The lockbox held more than just her birth certificate, after all. The list of Phoenix Riders in hiding might be just the thing to help them investigate the sightings south of the border. Veronyka didn’t know how old the list was, or how recently it had been updated, but it seemed like a good place to start.
If there were unknown, unchecked Phoenix Riders existing in the empire and beyond, the Riders on this list were obvious suspects. And if it wasn’t any of them, they still might have information the commander’s flock sorely needed.
Besides, the last-known whereabouts of one of the names on the list—Alexiya, Rider of Ximn—was listed as somewhere in the Silverwood. It seemed like a lost opportunity not to at least try to seek her out.
It was a risk, but one worth taking. Veronyka couldn’t stand being shunted aside and left out of the war. Yes, they were helping the local villagers—and that mattered too—but if she could do more, she would.
The worst that could happen was a fight or a skirmish, but the best? Another ally for their fledgling flock? It was too good a chance to pass up, especially when it might mean taking allies away from the empire. Veronyka relished the idea of recruiting more Riders to their cause, swelling their ranks not just with apprentices and new hatchlings but with fully fledged Riders who had fought in and survived a war.
They’d made camp in the ruins of Malka’s outpost again, and Veronyka waited until after dinner before she broached the topic with Tristan. The others—save for Ronyn, who was on patrol—were relaxing around the fire, the early-evening sun sinking below the tree line and casting dappled golden light over the clearing. Tristan was sitting with Lysandro, going over some lists of supplies.
“Tristan? Can I talk to you for a second?” Veronyka asked.
He glanced over his shoulder, squinting slightly into the sun. He opened his mouth, as if to ask for a minute, until he got a proper look at her face. His eyes latched onto hers before he remembered himself and they darted away. He seemed to see or sense that this was about something important, though, and turned back to his cousin. “You can finish this, Lys?” he asked, and Lysandro nodded. He looked quite happy to be deputized and took the sheaf of papers while Tristan stood.
“What’s up?” he asked, falling into step beside Veronyka as she walked to the edge of the clearing, past the phoenixes, who were clustered together around fresh fruit the Riders had scattered for their evening meal.
Like usual lately, Veronyka was anxious being alone with Tristan, as if every second together was illicit—never mind that what she was about to propose meant spending even more time in each other’s company.
Veronyka waited until they reached a thick, gnarled tree, pausing in its shadow. “I’ve been thinking… about those Phoenix Riders.”
“The ones spotted in the south?”
“Yes… You remember how I found that birth certificate in the lockbox?”
“Vaguely,” Tristan said dryly, leaning against the rough bark and crossing his arms over his chest.
Veronyka smirked before continuing. “And how I found other stuff too?”
Tristan stilled, his relaxed posture turning rigid. “Yes…”
Veronyka reached into her pocket. “One of the things I found was a list of Phoenix Riders that survived the war.”
She passed it to him, her hands trembling slightly. Fear, excitement, she didn’t know which, had sent her nerves to jangling, but whatever it was, she knew she had to act on it. Their skin touched, and she flashed back to the moment Tristan had fallen, limp, from his saddle. A wave of dizzying fear washed over her, and she snatched her hand back. Tristan remained still—perfectly, unnaturally still, and kept his focus on the paper.
“Veronyka,” he said on a breath, unfolding the page, his eyes bugging. “This is…” He trailed off, and Veronyka understood. They’d thought they were alone in Pyra—in the empire—but apparently they were wrong.
“That hand,” Veronyka said, pointing to the smaller, simpler script, “is Ilithya Shadowheart’s. That,” she said, pointing to the swooping, elegant—yet somehow wilder, less controlled—handwriting, “belongs to Val. Avalkyra.”
Tristan frowned at the page, and Veronyka studied him. She was surprised at how easy it had been to convince Tristan that Val was indeed Avalkyra. After she’d told him everything she knew about herself and her sister—the memories and the dream visions included—in addition to what Morra had said about resurrections, Tristan had just nodded, slightly stunned. Apparently his Pyraean nursemaid had told him plenty of folktales and local superstitions.
“She and Ilithya must have made this list hoping to find allies,” Veronyka continued. “I don’t know how many Val went to herself. I think…” She trailed off, staring unseeing into the distance. “I think she was ashamed to show herself as she was—young, poor, and without a phoenix. So my maiora—Ilithya,” she clarified, though she’d already told him about the spy’s role in her upbringing, “did it instead. Obviously it didn’t work, or Val would have an army of her own by now.”
“We should send this to my father,” Tristan said, somewhat reluctantly. They weren’t on the greatest of terms after Cassian’s most recent attempts to keep Tristan out of the loop.
“You heard him,” Veronyka said reasonably. “He didn’t want to discuss it. And I understand—he’s got too much to manage and can’t send people flying all over the empire looking for them. But maybe there’s another way—a way we could help. Maybe we could do it for him.”
“It would be dangerous, Veronyka. They could be the Riders that were spotted in the south. They could be working with the empire.”
Veronyka tipped her head in acknowledgment. She knew there was a chance they weren’t friendly, but there was also a chance they were.
“They could be,” she conceded. “Or, if we play this right… they could be working with us instead.”
Do you see the error of my ways yet, my daughter?
You cannot douse a fire by throwing water
at its flames. You have to go to the embers,
the kindling—the beating heart.
- CHAPTER 22 - AVALKYRA
AVALKYRA SAT ASTRIDE HER phoenix, perched on a rolling hilltop and surveying the distant, winding strip of the Iron Road. It branched west off the Pilgrimage Road, which twisted south toward Aura Nova and north toward Pyra. The Iron Road was named after the ore that gained Ferro its fame and fortune and for the route that had been traveled for centuries, sending Ferronese steel weapons from the forges of Ferro into Aura Nova, then onto riverboats setting out for the rest of the empire.
A merchant caravan bearing just such a shipment currently made its slow progress along that same route, heading east on the Iron Road toward the capital. There were three wagons brimming with short swords, spear tips, and arrowheads, all made of the finest Ferronese steel and coming from Lord Rolan’s own personal refineries. As governor of the province, he oversaw all production and approved all shipments, but he also had a personal stake in several mines and their corresponding forges. These weapons belonged to him.
And Avalkyra was about to steal them.
With a soft gust of wind, Sidra landed by her side. “No other travelers on the road, and only ten guards per wagon.”
“Only ten?” Avalkyra repeated with a smirk. “Two against thirty is poor odds.”
“For them, you mean.”
“Yes,” Avalkyra said, the blood rising inside her as the lust for battle pulsed through her veins. “For them.”
After a few days of much-needed rest and a trip to Ferro, Avalkyra was feeling like herself again. Well, not exactly like herself. Things weren’t quite what they had been—her loyal bondmate and full imperial flock of Phoenix Riders had been replaced with a temperamental bindmate and a single Phoenix Rider ally, but just a few weeks ago she’d had neither.
She needed to draw Veronyka and the rest of the Phoenix Riders into a war, and doing so with an army of one would have been relatively impossible. So she’d sought alliances. First a servant whose subservience could not be questioned. Then someone with soldiers and wealth and a position of power… someone who already had it out for Pyra and the Phoenix Riders.
