Beryk, who had done so much for him. Who would need him, once things got settled.
The hope and excitement that had surged up inside him withered in his chest. He looked down at the map, then back at Veronyka. “The thing is… Beryk told me there’s no one to spare. That I’m needed here.”
Veronyka tilted her head, considering as she repacked her satchel. “When I first met Beryk, he told me that I should forget about the Phoenix Riders, that they weren’t recruiting and that I didn’t fit the requirements even if they were.” She shrugged, a smirk on her face. “I’m very glad I didn’t listen to him.”
Elliot huffed a weak laugh, but it wasn’t that simple. It was all well and good for her—she was a lost Ashfire heir, and she hadn’t already betrayed these people once before.
It was like the hostage situation with Riella all over again.
Would he worry and fret and weigh his every action against what others would think of him, or would he step up and do the right thing, boldly and unapologetically, no matter the cost?
Veronyka was watching him, so Elliot collected himself. “Thank you,” he said, his voice stiff and formal again.
Was it because he was about to do something stupid… or was it because he wasn’t?
* * *
After Veronyka squeezed his shoulder and departed, Elliot found himself inside the dining hall. It was currently filled with cots and pallets for people to get some sleep until proper bedrooms and sleeping quarters could be arranged.
Like in the infirmary, there were pools of light where people talked and unpacked, a low hum of conversation filling the space, but mostly the room was dark.
Riella was seated in the corner, leaning against the stone wall, and Kade crouched in front of her. They were talking softly, their heads bent together, before Kade hugged her and stood.
He didn’t notice Elliot lurking just outside the doorway until he stepped into the shadowy hall.
“Oh, Elliot,” he said. “Are you looking for Riella? She’s—”
“I saw,” Elliot replied. He looked up at Kade—yes, up—and tried to quell the embarrassment burning inside at what he was about to do. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for her.”
Kade seemed taken aback by the words—perhaps because of the way Elliot was staring at him, as if steeling himself. Or because he sensed there was more to come. He nodded warily.
“Are you—what are your intentions with my sister?” Elliot asked.
“My what?” Kade repeated.
“I can see that you’re close, and you’ve rescued her twice now.” Kade continued looking at him in complete and utter confusion. Ugh. Elliot really wished he’d never started this conversation. “And she’s young, so it would make sense if she started to—I don’t know, idolize or develop feelings for you, and…”
Kade actually laughed. “You’ve really got the wrong idea.”
Heat crept up Elliot’s face—he didn’t know if it was from the whole mess of this conversation or the fact that Kade was laughing at him. “It’s not that I’d have a problem with—”
The mirth quickly left the other boy’s features. “I’d have a problem with it. I’m nineteen, and she’s, what, fourteen?”
“And a quarter,” Elliot corrected meekly, though he was extremely relieved. Not just that there was apparently nothing happening between them, but also that Kade found the idea absurd.
“I don’t care if she’s fourteen and three-quarters,” Kade replied stonily—and somewhat protectively, Elliot thought.
He blew out a breath. “Excellent,” he said, smiling brightly. Now they could both keep an eye on her. “Well, if you change your mind in ten years or so, then we can talk.”
“I won’t,” Kade muttered, shaking his head as he walked away.
Riella caught sight of Elliot and waved him over. “What was that about?” she asked, nodding toward the hall, though Kade was already gone.
“Just your big brother ensuring there was nothing inappropriate happening between the two of you.”
“Me and Kade?” she repeated, cheeks red, likely from embarrassment. Then she broke out laughing too.
Now it was Elliot’s turn to flush. “What?” he demanded. “You’re growing up, and he’s… I mean, I’m sure some find him…”
“Elly, you’re an idiot,” she said fondly. Elliot was still trying to work that out when Riella changed the subject. “Has there been any news?” she asked anxiously, patting the bedroll she was sitting on. Elliot squatted down next to her.
“Nothing. I asked Beryk if I could look for her, but he said they can’t afford to lose me. But then…” He hesitated, reaching into his pocket and drawing out the rough map. “I ran into Veronyka. She showed me this network of tunnels under the Eyrie, with more than one exit I didn’t know about. So maybe…” Riella nodded, eager, and Elliot continued. “Maybe she can find her way out.”
Riella stared at him in complete and utter confusion—then out of nowhere, she whacked him on the head.
“Ouch—what—” he began, then lowered his voice. “What was that for?”
She rolled her eyes. “ ‘Maybe she can find her way out’?” she repeated incredulously.
Elliot rubbed the spot on his head, which smarted. “Look, I asked Beryk—”
“Did he know about the tunnels?”
“I’m sure he does, but it was Veronyka who—”
“Exactly! She’s the bloody queen!”
“Well, not yet—”
“If she told you about them, she obviously approves of the idea and wants you to go. Just because she didn’t explicitly say it—”
“I can’t betray Beryk again. I’ve been trying for months to make up for the mistakes I made. To prove that I’m trustworthy. I have duties, responsibilities…”
“And what about your responsibility to her?”
“I…,” Elliot began, struggling to explain himself in the face of her rapid-fire questions. “I can’t just ditch one responsibility for another!” he exclaimed, and someone shushed him across the hall. He glowered before turning back to Riella. “It’s not only Beryk or the Riders.… You’re my sister! We’re at war! I can’t just leave you here alone, even if—” He froze, unsure he wanted to finish that sentence.
“Even if you want to?” Riella asked shrewdly.
“What I want is to stay here with you and to make sure you’re okay. I’m not leaving you ever again.” Elliot’s voice had gone a bit ragged at the end. He thought he’d masked it, but Riella wasn’t fooled. She took one of his hands—prying it off Sparrow’s spear—and squeezed it.
“I don’t need you to save me.”
“But you did.… You did need me, and I wasn’t there. I can’t fail again. Not with you,” he added, because of course he had failed again—he’d failed Sparrow. The person who had helped bring him back to life, the person who had shown him how to go on even after terrible sorrow and heartache.
The person he’d ignored for weeks in order to follow Riella around like a puppy dog. Why was he always failing at everything he did? He’d failed at being a brother, a Rider—and now a friend, too.
Riella tugged on his hand, drawing his attention back to her. “You never failed me. The world failed me, but not you. How can you possibly take the blame for what happened?”
“I’m your big brother. I should protect you.”
Riella sighed exasperatedly. “You can’t protect me from life, Elliot. Life is messy and complicated, and bad things will happen. You can’t stop them. We’re in the middle of a war, and we both have to do our best—by ourselves, by each other, and by the people who matter to us. So stop using me as an excuse to do things you know aren’t right, things you don’t even want to do in the first place. Stop using me to hide from the truth.”
Elliot was speechless. Was that how she saw his behavior? He never meant to turn Riella into some scapegoat, and yet… she wasn’t wrong. He had turned into a spy for Riella, had been careless and dism
issive of his relationship with Sparrow in favor of bothering Riella, and when a threat had approached, he had chosen Riella over Sparrow, leaving her alone and unprotected in the middle of an attack. Even now, when he knew he should go after Sparrow, he was trying to convince himself he shouldn’t… because of Riella.
He had just wanted to make up for what had happened to her, but maybe it had never been his burden to bear. Riella had matured in their time apart, and she didn’t want or need her older brother following her around, reminding her of her past trauma or behaving like she was some task he had to complete or some wrong he had to right.
And while she might have needed him when she was in her cell, she did not need him when she was here, among friends. But Sparrow did.
“I know it’s been hard for us being apart, and with Mom gone and Dad…” Elliot stiffened at the mention of their father, and Riella trailed off. Their father had chosen this separation, had agreed to cut deals and put his children in danger. He had let Lord Rolan’s lackey into their house. “You can’t be my everything, and I can’t be yours, either. You don’t have to choose between us,” she finished gently.
Elliot nodded, trying to banish the thoughts that told him that here he was, failing again and burdening his little sister with his inadequacies. She was right. She was wise beyond her years, and more perceptive than him—and she was right.
“Now,” Riella said, lifting Sparrow’s spear and shoving it into his hand, her voice blunt once more. “Go get her.”
In the beginning, we blazed the trail together, Nefyra and I. We were the light that all others followed.
- CHAPTER 20 - SEV
SEV NOW UNDERSTOOD WHY the carriages had been prepared so early.
He was ushered out of Tristan’s cell in the dead of night—during his usual guard shift—before anyone in the household could become aware of his absence. Rolan’s carriage was already gone, indicating that Sev’s role as a decoy was only a small part of the man’s subterfuge. He obviously suspected informants and had fed false information to his own people, including the departure time for himself and his “prisoner.”
Sev would be riding in a barred carriage that was covered by a canvas flap as if to disguise its purpose and make it look like a cargo wagon, not a prisoner transport. Rolan wanted the Phoenix Riders to chase this convoy for as long as possible, but he needed the transfer to appear genuine for that to happen. He couldn’t have a prison wagon rolling boldly across the countryside. It was too obvious. This way, it appeared as if Rolan was trying to hide his tracks. Sev was visible through gaps along the sides and back, but not so clearly as to be easily identifiable. To the Riders, this would appear as a ruse on its own—just a cargo transfer, no more—disguising Rolan’s true ruse, the decoy prisoner Sev.
In fact, he wouldn’t be surprised if half of the deception—including Tristan’s clothes and the sack they’d thrown over his head when leaving the prison—was for the benefit of the soldiers guarding the transfer and the inhabitants of the estate, not just the Phoenix Riders.
Sev had underestimated Rolan’s paranoia, even if he was right to be concerned. This was a lot of hoop jumping to avoid a confrontation with the Phoenix Riders, which Rolan’s forces greatly outnumbered even with all the soldiers he’d lost in Pyra. He was obviously more frightened of them than he’d let on and desperate for his plans to succeed. By keeping his games secret even from his own people, the switch could remain undetected for as long as possible.
Long enough to carry Sev north into the Spine, away from Tristan and the Stellan estate.
Away from Rolan.
Sev was about to become a rather useless spy. He tried not to panic, but there wasn’t much else to do.
If the Riders had received his letter, they were about to waste their time rescuing him. Meanwhile, Tristan was still in a cell, Sev’s co-conspirators were out of his reach, and they were in worse shape now than when they’d started.
And if they hadn’t… Sev would be in some ancient Stellan stronghold. He’d have to find his way back to the estate somehow, back to Tristan’s—or Rolan’s—side. Otherwise, what good was he?
Trix’s words from months ago nagged at the back of his mind.
Be useful, boy, and you’ll never want for a position in this world.
But Sev was useful no longer, and that did not sit well at all.
Soon gray dawn light began filtering into the carriage, striping the bars across the floor at Sev’s feet and leaking in through the canvas flaps.
They had been rumbling across the countryside for hours already, making slow, tedious progress through the endlessly flat Shadow Plains. The land had only just started to rise, breaking up the monotonous landscape Sev managed to glimpse through the gaps of canvas.
He had told the Riders that their best point of attack would be before they reached the base of the Spine. Phoenix Riders preferred to attack in open spaces, and Sev feared a trap or ambush if they waited until the tightly winding mountain road. It would make for easy pickings if they wanted to perch and loose arrows, but Sev couldn’t guarantee there weren’t reinforcements hidden in those hills.
But as the ground rose on either side of the road, Sev knew beyond a doubt that he had failed. The Riders weren’t coming, and if they were, it was too late.
Suddenly voices cut through Sev’s dire thoughts, the soldiers next to the wagon speaking in low, urgent tones.
Could it be?
Sev edged along the bench, taking hold of the canvas and pulling it aside ever so slightly.
He couldn’t see anything, but the voices around him shifted from low conversation to shouted orders and galloping hooves as they closed their ranks and rearranged themselves for defense. At last he heard the words he’d both longed for and dreaded—Phoenix Riders.
Sev’s breath hitched. It felt like rescue, but this rescue wasn’t meant for him. The Riders were going to fight and burn and peel back the canvas only to find Sev, not Tristan.
Panic set in. Sev could actually see the phoenixes now, distant specks growing nearer and nearer with each pump of their powerful wings. What could he do? Throw himself out the side of the wagon and risk getting trampled? Try to rock the wagon enough that it toppled over? Not only would that probably see him badly wounded—either from the fall or the retaliation from an irate soldier—but that might hurt the horses as well.
The horses.
Sev had never been much of an animage. He’d been too young when he lived with his parents on the farm to really hone his gift, and then he’d spent the next fourteen or so years hiding it and pretending it didn’t exist. He had no real range and definitely no subtlety.
Luckily, for this to work, he needed neither.
“Teyke help me—and Felix, too,” he muttered.
There were horses all around—the two that pulled the carriage, and at least a dozen with riders on either side of him. Sev couldn’t begin to try to control them, but he was certain he could spook them.
With everything he had, Sev pushed his magic outward in a sudden burst.
The response was instantaneous. The wagon halted abruptly, rocking back and forth as the horses pulling it bucked and reared, while shouts from left and right told Sev that soldiers had been thrown from their saddles or currently hung on for dear life. Whinnies and snorts, the stomp and skitter of hooves, and still Sev pushed, refusing to relent, even as he felt guilt for the poor, startled creatures.
As the wagon tipped dangerously to either side, Sev flung himself forward and pulled at the canvas flap again. He could see the Phoenix Riders more clearly now, and from the voices of the soldiers nearby, their presence was being blamed for the horses’ reactions.
Sev knew that was a boon, that discovery as an animage would definitely complicate his life, but all he could do was stare at the Riders drawing steadily nearer.
Veronyka was at the front, her beautiful phoenix trailing flames and bending the air around her with heat waves.
Sev thought of
that moment in the tower weeks back when Veronyka had inexplicably spoken into his mind, begging for help. He hadn’t understood it then, and he didn’t understand it now, but it was his best chance.
So Sev begged now, sent his thoughts skyward to her, knowing it was a fool’s errand but trying all the same, because what was Sev’s life if not a long series of ridiculous failed efforts by a fool?
He’s not here! Sev thought frantically. Veronyka! Please hear me! He’s not here—Tristan’s not here. He’s still at the estate!
But as the Phoenix Riders flew ever nearer, with no sign of slowing or stopping, despair settled in. He had failed, had lost his chance, he—
Sev, came a voice inside his head—Veronyka’s voice. She’d heard him! He’d reached and reached, and somehow she’d heard him. Thank you.
Stunned, Sev watched as the Riders drew level with the wagon—then flew past it, continuing to soar high and fast and away from him, heading south. Toward Rolan’s estate. Toward Tristan and their true goal.
Sev sagged back into his seat, the rocking motion of the carriage stilling as the soldiers calmed the horses. A head poked in to check on him, frowning, before disappearing again.
He sighed, allowing himself to feel a single moment of triumph. Then melancholy seeped into his heart, his bones.
Sev had achieved his goal, had warned the Riders off and avoided a senseless battle—but the victory was bittersweet.
He was now faced with the undeniable truth that he had finally become what he’d most feared… useless. A spy with no one to spy on.
And while he hadn’t guaranteed Tristan’s freedom, he had all but assured that he would not get his own.
Teyke has long been considered the god of tricksters and a symbol of luck in the empire, but his origins are difficult to trace.
In Ferro, cats were considered lucky, so some equated the god with the animal, insisting the two were one and the same. Perhaps thanks to Pyraean influence, it was later believed that the god was human-formed and had a cat companion. Given that animal magic was most prominent in Pyra during that time (circa 300 BE), it makes sense that their society would view their relationship that way.
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