“Height, maybe. Build, certainly not,” Yara said unflatteringly, and Sev’s indignation for her evaporated in the face of his own, though his heart was still racing. Why did they need Sev to be close to Tristan’s height and build…?
“It’s the face,” said another soldier, waving vaguely. “Smooth-cheeked and all. Same hair more or less. He’s the closest in age, and they’ve both got a northern look.”
Most of the household soldiers were Stellan-born—fair-haired and pale-skinned—but Tristan and Sev had mixed Ferronese and Pyraean ancestry. And at eighteen years old, Sev was the youngest of the prison guards.
“Nobody’s gonna get a good look anyway,” he finished. “Not until it’s too late.”
And suddenly Sev understood. He would be Tristan’s decoy.
“Go on,” the first soldier ordered. “Swap.”
As the soldier waved his hand impatiently and Tristan began to peel off his Rider leathers, Sev realized Tristan wasn’t going anywhere.
But he was.
Even if the Riders had received his letter, the information would be all wrong. Tristan would be here, Sev would be there… and their chance at escape was all but obliterated.
Day 15, Fifth Moon, 175 AE
S,
I have thought about your offer.
I accept.
We will see an Ashfire queen on the Golden Empire’s throne once more.
Tell me what you need; I am at your disposal.
—M
How I am glad that you do not have to watch them kill each other, these Ashfire queens.
These daughters of your daughters.
- CHAPTER 16 - VERONYKA
VERONYKA FLEW TO PROSPERITY in a daze.
Her brain kept trying to do what it had started to do in Rushlea—leapfrog past all sense of duty and composure and rush headlong into emotion. Into rage.
How dare she? How dare Val attack the very people she had once led? And how dare she do so behind Veronyka’s back?
She kept going over their recent conversations—if they could even be called that—trying to understand what she’d missed, wondering if she could have foreseen this. Fearing that she had somehow inadvertently given Val exactly what she’d needed to carry it out.
Her instinct to block her mind, to pull in on her shadow magic, reared up.
No, Veronyka chastised herself, letting the walls she’d just subconsciously rebuilt crumble. That was the path to ignorance. It was painful to feel vulnerable and exposed, but it was better than the alternative.
When they arrived at Prosperity in the afternoon, it was a mess of Riders and animals, stronghold guards and servants, though most of the evacuees had been forced to relocate to other places—the refugee camp in Rushlea, or to Petratec or Vayle or wherever they might have friends and family who could take them in. Prosperity was not large enough to house them all, and they were probably safer away from the Phoenix Riders anyway.
Suddenly all their careful training and preparation had ground to a halt. Would they be ready to face the empire if it came to war, or had the war already begun? They had enemies on all sides, it seemed, and Veronyka’s head spun with frustration and futility.
And anger.
So much anger.
It started when she saw with her own eyes the injured and dying, the slashes from razor-sharp talons creating wounds that looked more like frostbite than anything else—blackened, deadened flesh with jagged edges. The phoenixes fared better and healed quicker than their human counterparts, but their hearts held a different kind of sickness. A bone-deep, centuries-old fear that the humans couldn’t possibly feel or understand. Two of the Riders in Commander Cassian’s patrol were dead—shot down by Val—but others were wounded, including Beryk. They had come through this attack, but it was not without cost.
“How did this happen?” Veronyka asked as soon as she’d entered the commander’s makeshift meeting room.
He had summoned the Rider Council to his new, hastily assembled office the moment she’d arrived. The room was in chaos, with crates stacked haphazardly against the walls and papers sprawled out across the large central table.
“As I was just explaining to Fallon and Darius,” the commander said, gesturing to the only other participants in the meeting—Beryk was being treated by the healer in the infirmary—“I am not entirely sure. Ignix arrived seemingly out of nowhere, telling us to prepare for an attack. Avalkyra was upon us before we could do more than raise the alarm. Even our scouts never saw her coming, not until it was too late.”
Veronyka perched on the edge of her chair. “What I don’t understand is why she bothered to challenge Ignix at all, when we were so outnumbered in the first place. She didn’t need to even the odds. They were in her favor to begin with.”
“She made it plain she was interested in Ignix from the jump. She knew you were not there,” the commander added, speaking to Veronyka. His words felt accusatory, though she didn’t think they were—just her own guilty conscience making her cheeks heat. “And so I think she issued the challenge to ensure she got a chance at Ignix herself, without interference or the opportunity for escape.”
Val must have wanted a chance to get back at Ignix for what she’d done in Ferro, but it still seemed sudden. There was something they’d missed, though she didn’t know what. Had Ignix been spying on her after all? “But how did she lose? Ignix has defeated Avalkyra before.” And Val no longer had control of her mind, thanks to Veronyka. “She’s older and more powerful. That means something, doesn’t it?”
“It does,” the commander replied wearily. “Being the first—or apex—confers upon the bearer a social and magical power. It is a tier that only one can reach. Or rather, one per species.”
“One per species…,” Veronyka repeated, foreboding creeping into the words.
The commander nodded. “Ignix is the apex phoenix, but Avalkyra’s strix is the first of her kind hatched since the Dark Days and is, therefore, the apex strix. It would be a relatively meaningless attribute if Avalkyra had not hatched so many more. It is the flock that gives an apex their power. Clearly, Avalkyra had no qualms demanding their subservience to her and her bondmate. Ignix, on the other hand, never asked for our loyalty, which might be why she was not strong enough to defeat her strix counterpart. Only an apex can overpower another apex.”
Veronyka recalled learning something about the term “apex” when she was young, but since the word was only ever attributed to Ignix, it had been ancient history as far as she was concerned. She had never thought of it as relevant to the present, and neither had she ever considered the idea of a strix apex. Even if she had, she’d never have fathomed Val bonding to it.
Before this conversation, she’d assumed binds were at play, but not even Val could control so many. This was something else entirely. Something they were not prepared for.
And now Ignix was gone too.
The rest of the meeting was about immediate, pressing concerns—food and housing, patrol schedules and supplies. Veronyka tuned out and wasn’t much use.
Her shock was fading, and her rage was back.
She was on her way outside when she bumped into Ersken, who was moving gingerly down the stairs from the infirmary, his midsection wrapped in thick bandages.
“Has there been any news of them?” he asked when he saw Veronyka.
“Who?” she asked.
“Xat—Ignix, rather,” he said, and Veronyka recalled the months he’d spent caring for Ignix inside the breeding enclosure. Though he hadn’t known her true identity, he had spent more time with her than most.
“No,” Veronyka said with a sad shake of her head. “Wait—them? Who else?”
Ersken sniffed loudly, his eyes rimmed with tears. “It wasn’t just her that got caught in the cave-in,” he said, his voice pained, “but the little bird as well. Sparrow. Wrong place, wrong time.”
Sparrow. Veronyka’s heart throbbed painfully, temporarily robbing her of breath. Was there any c
hance the pair of them had survived? She might have hoped that a phoenix could handle such injuries, but Sparrow?
Ersken swayed slightly, and Veronyka helped him down the remaining steps, dragging over a chair from a nearby room for him to rest. What he needed was a cane or a crutch, something to—
“Morra,” Veronyka said, throat tight around the word. “Where is Morra?”
Ersken lifted his face to answer, then shook his head. Veronyka made a choked noise, and he hastened to say, “Not dead, but…” He frowned. “She knelt and offered her services to Avalkyra.”
Now Veronyka was shaking her head. “No.” She wouldn’t—she couldn’t. Morra had been ambivalent about Val since her identity was revealed, but… she’d helped Veronyka. Truly helped her—with her magic, of course, but with other things too. She wouldn’t just turn her back on Veronyka and Tristan and the others.
She wouldn’t.
“It was hard to hear,” Ersken was saying, his tone regretful. “But those who were closest claim she promised to do whatever she could to see Avalkyra on a throne once more.”
Veronyka swallowed thickly.
Morra was a shadowmage, and the only way Val could have hatched and bonded to a strix was through shadow magic. Her animal magic was too weak to hatch a phoenix, but her shadow magic was sharpened to a razor’s edge. With someone like Morra on her side… someone with ancient, obscure knowledge and shadow magic of her own? Who knew what Val would be capable of.
Why hadn’t the commander told Veronyka? Was he trying to protect her, or keep news of Morra’s betrayal from spreading?
Unease tightened Veronyka’s stomach. Even besides her magical knowledge, Morra knew a great many things about the goings-on at the Eyrie, and she knew quite a lot about Veronyka, too, including her struggles with shadow magic and her training regimen. Her affection for Tristan and his capture in Ferro.
Veronyka was certain Morra did not mean the Phoenix Riders or the people of Pyra harm, but Val most certainly did, and Morra had chosen to kneel to her. To offer herself.
And Val had probably accepted her service with a smile. Anger pulsed like a second heartbeat inside Veronyka’s chest. Rage… rage… rage.
She wanted to scream—at the Unnamed for drawing her away from the Eyrie, at the commander for leaving some of their people behind, even if they’d apparently chosen it.
But most of all, she wanted to scream at Val.
Veronyka wanted answers, and thanks to Morra, her shadow magic was stronger than ever before. She would go to her sister and demand them.
Leaving Ersken behind, she stormed out of the tower into the darkening twilight. The world was awash in shades of violet and magenta, as magnificent as Xephyra’s feathers, but Veronyka saw no beauty in it.
“Val,” she said harshly, stalking through the shadows behind the stables. The compound had quieted somewhat, though the tension in the people and animals hung in the air, dense and suffocating.
She squeezed her eyes shut and steadied her breathing, gathering her magic with every inhale and opening herself wider with every exhale.
Val, she said again, throwing everything she had behind it. The world swayed around her, and a wave of dizziness sent Veronyka leaning against the back wall of the stables. But the touch of cool stone against her palm pulled her back to herself, so she jerked away and stumbled forward, blinking once, twice.…
Hello, xe Nyka, Val said, amused. I knew you’d come looking for me.
You’re a coward, Veronyka spat. She got the impression Val was seated somewhere, quite at her leisure, though there was an edge of anticipation in her rigid posture. As if she’d been waiting for this. And I’m not here for you—I’m here for answers.
Do not call me coward in one breath, then ask for answers in the next.
There’s no other word for it, Veronyka said, her chest heaving. You watched and waited until I was gone, until the middle of the night, when—
I watched? Val shot back, annoyance bleeding through her outward calm. I was minding my own business while that decrepit old phoenix spied on me. Then she had the audacity to attack me and mine. And so I paid her back in kind.
Ignix attacked you? Veronyka asked skeptically. Then again, if Ignix had seen what Val was doing, maybe she’d thought she could stop it. Prevent it from spreading. Veronyka would have tried to do the same.
She tried to take something from me, and so I took something from her.
Veronyka saw through the lie as easily as she saw through glass. From me, you mean, she said, surprised at the emotion in her voice. The Eyrie wasn’t Ignix’s. The Eyrie was mine. It was important to me, and so were the people in it. And you took it.
Val shrugged, then got to her feet, striding purposefully away. Veronyka’s consciousness followed, sensing her movements and catching flashes of her surroundings—the cobblestones of the courtyard rolling out beneath her feet, filthy and scattered with debris and splattered with a dark liquid that was surely blood. There was a distant, irregular thumping sound—Morra?—but then Veronyka realized Val was holding a spear and using it like a walking stick. Like Sparrow.
Admit it! Veronyka snapped. Admit that you did it to get at me. To hurt me.
Veronyka was staring at the back of Val’s head, willing the connection to remain strong, and reached for her shoulder. For what, she didn’t know. To force Val to face her? To shake her? Though she swore she could feel the warmth of Val’s skin, her hand passed through.
Val whirled around anyway, and suddenly her appearance was crystal clear: wild cap of jagged red hair, splotchy scars, and an obsidian-tipped spear in her hand.
I did it because I could, she said fiercely. I did it because every inch of this country, this empire, belongs to me, and I take what’s mine.
They stood before each other—Veronyka could see the courtyard all around her and wondered vaguely if Val could see her at Prosperity. There was a gust of wind from above, stirring Val’s hair and slipping across Veronyka’s skin. But she knew, somehow, that the trees and grass outside the stables were undisturbed.
They were together but not: joined in this moment but worlds apart. Their connection had never been so strong.
A shadow passed over them, and then a creature out of legend dropped behind Val like a curtain. It loomed above her, around her, obliterating their hazy surroundings and casting Val into a startling silhouette against its utter darkness.
It was a monster, a thing out of nightmares. Its presence stole Veronyka’s breath as if sucking the very life from her.
It shrieked, and the sound rent Veronyka’s heart, causing a frigid rush of cold to flood her chest.
I am not merely a Strix Rider, the first and only of my kind, Val announced, pride and pleasure in every syllable. I am apexaeris. Do you remember your ancient Pyraean?
Apex Rider, Veronyka translated.
Apex Master, Val corrected with a smile.
Veronyka was afraid. Truly afraid. Of the strix, yes, but also of the Val who could hatch such a thing. How far Avalkyra Ashfire had fallen… How truly dark and devastating she had become. What a complete and utter tragedy.
Don’t, Val snapped, and Veronyka struggled to draw herself back to the moment.
Don’t what?
Don’t look at me with your soft eyes and your bleeding heart. I am not the sister you knew. I am not the queen that never reigned. I am something else now, xe Nyka, and you’d best stay out of my way.
I can’t, Veronyka said, stepping forward. Strange to speak like this, seemingly face-to-face, but without moving her lips.
Val’s grip on her spear tightened, but she let Veronyka close the distance between them. The anger in Veronyka’s heart sparked anew, blazing against the cold that had enveloped her, burning away her fear and her compassion. You’ve come for the ones I love. You attacked the Eyrie and you attacked the Phoenix Riders, which means you attacked me.
Val sneered. Trust me, you’ll know when I’ve attacked you.
Is that what you want? Veronyka asked, taking another step closer. She was scant inches from Val now, close enough to touch—if this were real. You want to attack me, Val? Then do it. Leave the others out of it and do it.
All in due time, Nyka, she said, turning aside.
I knew it, Veronyka said, frustrated and angry and desperate to do something. You’re afraid to face me. Afraid to lose. That’s why you took Morra, hoping for an edge.
She reached out again, and this time, her hand snagged against the fabric of Val’s tunic before sliding through. If she concentrated, maybe…
I have been through fire and death. I fear nothing, Val snarled, pulling away. And I did not take your precious shadowmage. She offered herself on bended knee. She couldn’t wait to betray you.
Veronyka was breathing heavily now. She ignored the comments about Morra, knowing she’d struck a nerve. Oh, you fear, she said, feeling her lips curl into a smile. You fear life. You fear love. You fear yourself, and you fear me most of all.
Val bared her teeth and turned, bringing her spear down in an angry, slashing motion.
Sudden pain bloomed across Veronyka’s chest in a fiery line from her collarbone to her stomach. The obsidian point had sliced neatly through her tunic in a sick parody of the last time she and Val had come into conflict at the Eyrie, when Val had cut open Veronyka’s shirt to reveal her lies to Tristan. Except this time, the weapon cut through fabric and flesh, and for a moment, Veronyka could only stare down at herself. It took a breath for the blood to start, and then it was gushing, vivid red and entirely real. She staggered back, stunned, and as her eyes met Val’s, they too were wide with shock.
Veronyka clutched at her chest, her fingertips coming away warm and wet, and then she fell backward, out of the vision of the stronghold’s courtyard and directly into someone’s arms.
The Prosperity stables exploded around her, spreading like an ink stain—starry sky, damp grass, and barren trees, and the soft murmuring of animals inside.
She struggled against the grip, confused, until she recognized Doriyan’s gruff voice. Someone was shouting her name, and above her was Xephyra, wild-eyed and panicked.
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