Interestingly, Teyke’s role as the trickster seems to contradict the recorded stories of his deeds during that time. The most complete—if not the most well known—stories are the aptly named Scrolls of Luck, discovered in Orro at one of the only temples dedicated to the god that was ever built and which no longer stands.
The tales of Teyke in the Scrolls of Luck first introduce the name of the god’s cat—called Felix—and depict the feline with his famed gold-green eyes luring Teyke himself into a trap, suggesting that it was Felix, not Teyke, who was the true trickster.
Felix tricks Teyke no less than five times within the scrolls, but by the final tale, the two set a trap for Anyanke, the goddess of fate—who, of course, sees the deception coming. She punishes the two by tangling them in a spider’s web, but thanks to Felix’s claws—and Teyke’s cleverness—they are able to escape. Their initial failure didn’t stop the two from forming a legendary partnership, and according to myth and legend, the pair has been getting into—and out of—mischief together ever since.
—Myths and Legends of the Golden Empire and Beyond, a compilation of stories and accounts, the Morian Archives, 101 AE
We were magnificent. We shone brightly, burned fiercely. We ruled the world and banished the darkness.
- CHAPTER 21 - VERONYKA
“WHAT’S WRONG?”
It was the commander, shouting from Veronyka’s right-hand side as he twisted in Maximian’s saddle, staring at the wagon and the convoy they’d left behind.
“Tristan’s not there,” Veronyka said shortly.
When they’d first had the wagon in their sights, she’d worried her bond to Tristan was weakened beyond recognition, that she’d lost the ability to sense him at all. Or worse, that Val’s attack might have caused her magic to close up and block him out. The wound on her chest was a stinging reminder of her own vulnerability, which was greater than she’d ever even imagined, but the last thing she wanted was to lose touch with Tristan—especially now, when she needed every advantage to rescue him.
She wished she could talk to Morra about it all, about what had happened with Val and other ways to protect herself. But she couldn’t. A pang of regret pierced her chest, but she pushed it down.
Xephyra nudged their bond, reminding her, and Veronyka sought out Rex. He opened himself to her, revealing that he couldn’t sense Tristan either.
At least Veronyka’s magic wasn’t to blame, but that only increased her fear. If neither of them could sense Tristan, did that mean he was gravely hurt? Wounded and unconscious, or… or—the next word was so abhorrent to her mind that she couldn’t even think it. No, Tristan was not that. He was fine, and she would save him. She had to.
As she’d scrambled for what to do next, the horses below began to buck and kick, causing such a ruckus she couldn’t help but reach out to them. Surely the phoenixes’ distant presence wasn’t enough to make the horses lose their composure—especially not warhorses, who were trained to withstand all manner of noise and violence.
But if it wasn’t the phoenixes causing them to behave so bizarrely, then what was?
By the time Veronyka contacted the animals, she knew they’d been riled up, not by their surroundings or the coming phoenixes—but by an animage.
A familiar animage. His presence in their minds was already receding, but Veronyka recognized his touch because she’d been in his mind before.
She turned in the saddle to find Kade, flying behind her. Veronyka had insisted he come with them, claiming his position in Rolan’s household might give them important insight during the rescue—but really, she’d brought him because of Sev. He caught her eye, a frown on his face, then looked down at the convoy below.
Veronyka squinted at the wagon, subconsciously mirroring with Xephyra—willing her eyes to be able to see through canvas walls, though, of course, they could not. But then a rattle of the carriage, a ripple of wind—and the fabric opened to reveal Sev’s face, shadowed by cell bars but unmistakable all the same.
Without direct eye contact, connecting with him was difficult, but now that Veronyka knew it was him, she sought other means.
Withdrawing from Xephyra’s mind, Veronyka reached again for the horses, chasing the tendril of Sev’s connection with them, just as she had once gone through Wind to connect with Tristan’s mind.
The contact was fleeting; it was brief—but it was enough.
Sev had been shouting mental warnings out into the ether, calling her name, and while his words were garbled in his mind, his rampant thoughts painted a more complete picture. He was here in Tristan’s place—a decoy meant to lure them away from their true target—while Tristan remained inside Rolan’s estate, locked away and out of reach.
Not if Veronyka could help it.
They left the convoy behind and diverted their flight south, but Veronyka had no idea where to land or how to get inside Rolan’s estate without turning it into a full-blown attack. Their only option was to wait for nightfall and approach under cover of darkness.
They were a party of six again; Veronyka had asked Kade to follow Sev’s convoy at a safe distance and see what he could discover about the stronghold in the Spine. If he could get Sev out, he should—otherwise, he was to meet at their rendezvous point, where they would discuss next steps.
The patrol made temporary camp among what little natural cover they could find in the flat terrain, but neither Veronyka nor Rex could sit still. Even the commander seemed on edge, though he and Maximian maintained their usual dignified decorum.
Something must have gone wrong for Lord Rolan to fabricate a false prisoner transfer. Had Sev’s cover been blown? Surely if it had, Rolan would have killed or imprisoned him rather than used him in Tristan’s place. Either way, Rolan must have known he had an informant in his midst—or suspected that Veronyka and Cassian would not make good on their alliance.
As Veronyka paced, she cast an uneasy look at the commander. If Tristan’s journey had been a ruse, had Rolan’s travel been a ruse as well? And if so… where was he?
When at last darkness descended, Veronyka took point with Rex and the commander on either side, and Tristan’s patrol fanned out behind them. A full-scale battle with Rolan’s soldiers was a fight they might not win, especially if the Riders drew their notice before locating Tristan and getting him to safety. They had to be careful.
Though the commander didn’t fully understand why Veronyka would be any use in locating Tristan, he did believe that Rex would be, and he knew that Veronyka and Xephyra were closest with the phoenix. It was the same way she’d explained what had happened earlier when she called an abrupt halt to the rescue mission. Rex was bonded to Tristan and had known he was not in that wagon. Veronyka was simply acting as the translator.
Or so she told them.
As they flew nearer to the estate, the building growing larger and larger below, Veronyka cast her magic as widely as she could. It had been so long since she’d truly sensed Tristan, she feared she no longer knew what it felt like.
But then, like a spark catching on dry tinder, the warmth of him flickered suddenly against her skin. Her heart clenched, and Xephyra jerked toward the feeling, their flight matching Rex’s abrupt turn as they soared toward the eastern wing of the compound.
Veronyka’s magic surged forward in a rush, seeking Tristan with inevitable force, bursting through their connection like floodwaters across a desert plain.
Somewhere in the dark, Tristan lurched to his feet.
But the world has changed. The Ashfires reign supreme no longer.
- CHAPTER 22 - TRISTAN
VERONYKA.
Tristan practically fell out of his bed and ran to the tiny window in his cell, but it was nighttime, and there was nothing to see. Still, his heart raced because though he didn’t understand the ties that bound them, he could feel her presence in his mind.
He recalled their goodbyes in Ferro. The way she had filled his head and his heart and whispered into his very soul.
I’m here, came the soft reply. We’re here.
Tristan’s forehead fell against the bars, his breaths coming fast and shallow. There were a thousand things he wanted to say, apologies and promises and wild declarations. He settled on the only words he could coherently string together.
I missed you.
He felt her smile. It was like summer sun.
Rex burst into his mind then, fiery and strong-willed and impatient. Tristan closed his eyes to drink up the feeling, the loneliness of the past few weeks burning away, nothing but a distant, terrible memory in the face of the warmth spreading through his body. The silence of the bond had been one of the worst parts of their separation, but suddenly Tristan felt whole again.
Where are you? he asked, tossing a wary glance over his shoulder. One of his guards had turned at his abrupt leap from bed, but his gaze was disinterested as he watched Tristan stare out the window. Relaxing his posture and quelling his brimming excitement, Tristan leaned against the wall. After a few moments, the guard looked away again.
Tristan attempted to mirror with Rex, to figure out what was happening. He caught glimpses of the night sky, of the exterior of Rolan’s estate… of Veronyka. She was beside Rex—they had landed just beyond the walls of the compound, hidden within a cluster of trees. They would be concealed until the guards completed their next circuit, and Tristan wished desperately that Sev were with him, for surely he knew their routes.
Perhaps sensing Tristan’s presence in Rex’s mind, Veronyka stepped in front of the phoenix and drew his head down so they were on eye level. Tristan’s insides quivered at the intimacy of their eye contact, close but once removed, filtered as it was through Rex—strange and difficult to understand.
How do we get in? Veronyka asked him, speaking slowly. She was in his mind now, not Rex’s, having somehow used his link to his bondmate to make the connection more easily. Tristan shook his head, not bothering with trying to understand the magic, only grateful that Veronyka was willing to use it after months of doing everything she could to block it.
Tristan didn’t know if it would work, but he pictured the floor plans Sev had brought him, trying to show Veronyka the layout of the prison wing, the markings that indicated where soldiers were stationed and where he was, underground and under guard. He went over the conversations he’d had with Sev, how they might create distractions and draw soldiers in various directions, but whatever the strategy, there was only one door into the prison. Even if they managed to get in, getting out again would be another matter entirely.
Clinging to the images Tristan had shown her, Veronyka diverted his attention to the prison floor plan. There was a question in her mind even without words.
It’s all blocked, Tristan explained, marveling at how quickly she had pieced it all together. How effortless it was to communicate like this—at least for him. He just wanted to relish her presence for a moment, to enjoy the feeling of knowing she and Rex were nearby, but time was not on their side.
Tristan showed her the wall next to his cell, how it didn’t align with the floor plan. Rolan had filled it in and blocked it off.
But even as he tried to explain it, Tristan noticed something near the guard’s boot—a crack in the texture of the walled-in hallway. And underneath it…
“Wood,” Tristan said aloud. Both the guards turned to look at him this time. “Kill for a drink,” he added hastily, clearing his throat. “Would kill for some ale or wine or… something.”
One of the guards snorted. “You and me both.”
Tristan gave him a crooked smile. Once they had both looked away again, Tristan stretched his arms and yawned, then lowered himself to the ground on the pretense of stretching his legs next, getting as near to the bars—and the guard on the other side of it—as he dared, squinting at the place on the wall. Sev had knocked over a lantern several days back, and there was a dark scorch mark where the flames had licked up the side of what they both thought was a stone surface. Somehow, either by contact with the lantern itself or perhaps by some random booted toe or heel, the “stone” finish had cracked, revealing white edges underneath.
This wasn’t a stone wall, but a wooden one finished in plaster and then painted to look like stone.
Tristan’s head spun.
If this wall was wood covered in plaster, did that mean the door beyond it—the one that led outside—was the same?
What door?
Tristan jumped, forgetting that he wasn’t alone in his mind. Veronyka had clearly been trying to follow along, but confusion was plain in the feelings that filtered through to him.
Rather than trying to explain his theory, Tristan guided her to where the door should be based on the floor plans he had seen. According to Sev’s notes, there were no guards posted nearby. Just those on the walls, those who walked the perimeter in sweeps, and those stationed at the other entrances and along the corridors.
If you can find a way to sneak inside the walls—
Done, she said shortly, cutting him off. He wanted to ask how, but of course she knew that, and showed him an image of Rex soaring way up into the sky only to drop a stone with a clatter below, drawing the nearest guard’s gaze for Veronyka to slip behind him.
Tristan’s heart warmed at the way they worked so seamlessly together, but he felt a pang of something like jealousy too—he should be out there with them.
Show me, Veronyka prodded, and Tristan focused his attention on leading her to where the door was supposed to be located.
It wasn’t like mirroring, exactly, but Tristan got flashes of images and pulses of sensation. He knew Veronyka had gotten a scrape as she pushed through some bushes that had been planted to conceal the hidden entrance, though he couldn’t truly feel it, and he saw her hands sprawled across the seemingly solid stone. The flash of a knife, the crumble of plaster. Triumph blazed.
You’re right, she told him, and he watched her working the blade into the seam of the still-existent door. I can get through in a hurry if we’re not worried about noise. But we are, aren’t we?
Yes, they were. Even if they managed to get through that door and inside the prison, the only way to get to Tristan was to break down the wall directly in front of him. Not only would the guards know they were coming, but they’d raise the alarm too.
Then again… maybe raising the alarm was exactly what they needed.
There was a rope pull next to the stairwell, which led up through the ceiling and into the captain’s room.
Yara’s room.
The problem was, Tristan didn’t know if Yara was still on his side—if she ever had been. Sev had trusted her, and Tristan had trusted Sev. But then their plans went to pieces, and Rolan obviously suspected or even knew for certain that he had an informant in his midst, given his complicated travel arrangements and decoy tactics.
Someone may have betrayed them, and that someone could easily have been Yara.
Tristan supposed he was about to find out one way or the other.
He didn’t want Veronyka to draw attention to the exterior entrance—it would be their escape route—but once she was inside… Get in as quietly as you can. I’ll guide you down the hallway until you come up against another wall. Then wait.
I don’t have an ax, Veronyka replied. I won’t be able to get through a wall with a dagger.
Tristan hesitated. Bring Xephyra.
Veronyka knew what he was suggesting. Even without a magical connection to his mind, she would understand what he meant—fire—and what such a strategy would cost him.
But she didn’t question him, didn’t doubt his resolve. He loved her for it.
The minutes dragged on as Tristan waited, his attention divided between the world outside and the world within.
First Veronyka had to tell the others their plan—Tristan’s patrol, he thought, and was that his father?—then she returned to chip and hack away at the plaster until she could wrench open the exterior door
. It was loud, the hinges groaning and squeaking, but there was nothing to be done for it. If a guard came running, the others would have to take him out from their places beyond the estate’s walls. Tristan sensed Rex among them, angry to be left behind, but they couldn’t fit the whole flock in the narrow hallway, and if anyone was going to ignite, it had to be Xephyra. Veronyka’s bond would protect her from the flames.
She was inside the building now, and Tristan’s pulse raced, matching her own as she stumbled through the darkness. Xephyra came in after her, emitting a soft glow that allowed Veronyka to pick her way through the passage littered with garbage and debris.
And Tristan was with her. He had no way of knowing for certain, but he assumed the old structure behind the false wall matched the original floor plan Sev had found and pictured it in his mind as he guided her. Straight. Straight. Now right at the junction. Just a bit farther…
Here, she answered back, and Tristan’s heart leapt as he stared at the wall from the opposite side. He hadn’t been this close to her in weeks, and now all that separated them was that wood-and-plaster barrier.
He glanced at the guards, completely unaware that an intruder was mere feet away from them.
Now make some noise, he said.
Veronyka studied the wall from the other side—he saw flickers of it through her eyes—the beams of wood that made up the frame and the slats that filled it in. He sensed her shrug, then kick out hard, the flat sole of her boot connecting with the wooden wall with an echoing bang.
The guards whirled around in alarm.
Again, Tristan advised, and Veronyka aimed her kick at a crossbeam. A crack appeared in the plaster finish, visible from Tristan’s side.
The guards frowned—even they didn’t know the wall was false—and backed away warily.
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