“Hello, Theryn.”
The ground seemed to drop out beneath Veronyka.
Theryn. Her father? She thought Alexiya hadn’t been able to find him, and now here he was out of nowhere?
“Mom contacted you, I presume? Of course she would know where you were.…”
Veronyka remained rooted to the spot but heard the man’s footsteps as he drew nearer. Next to her, Tristan watched the scene with confusion.
“I came back home after the war. You did not. It’s been seventeen years, Lexi. I must admit I’d given up hope.”
Alexiya swallowed visibly; then her gaze finally left Theryn and darted to Veronyka. She drew back her shoulders. “This isn’t about me.”
“So I’ve heard.” He glanced around the clearing, at Veronyka and Tristan and their phoenixes. “A strange visit indeed.”
“I’ve been looking for you,” Alexiya said, eyes flicking to Veronyka again.
“I didn’t want to be found,” Theryn explained.
“Not by me,” Alexiya asked, though it sounded more like a statement.
“Not by anyone.”
Veronyka could barely keep up. She thought her sibling relationship was tense, but this was possibly even more strained. She tried not to stare as they spoke, but it was nearly impossible. She kept hoping… What, exactly? That he would know her, recognize her as his? But his gaze passed over her with only the mildest interest and zero spark of recognition.
“Idiot,” Alexiya said abruptly.
“Pardon me?” came Theryn’s startled response.
“You’re an idiot. Always have been. I’d like to tell you every which way, in detail, but now is not the time. When next you decide to go underground for nearly two decades, perhaps you should reconsider letting your little sister in on the details.”
“I thought you were dead, Lexi. I—”
“You thought a lot of people were dead, didn’t you? Most of them were, but not all. Not me, and not her.”
Alexiya was beside Veronyka now, a hand on her shoulder. Her touch was heavy.
Theryn looked between them, clearly trying to work out who the “her” was in that statement. Then his eyes landed on Veronyka and stayed there. He’d already seen her, but he hadn’t truly looked.
Now he did.
His eyes were brown—but light, like Tristan’s, not near-black like hers—large and deep set. They were roving Veronyka’s face, confusion pinching his forehead. His dark hair was messy and just long enough to curl around his ears and fall across his forehead. Veronyka could see all the ways he favored Alexiya, with their straight, elegant posture and smooth brown skin. He was surprisingly tall, given Veronyka’s own height, and his shoulders were broad and thick. He still looked like a soldier, even all these years later. There was a rigidness to him, a sternness that made him look older than he was, and the lines between his brows said he spent more time frowning than laughing.
Veronyka wondered if that had always been the case, or if this was the result of all he’d lost.
“This is Veronyka,” Alexiya said, the hardness in her voice receding. “Veronyka Ashfire.”
He shook his head slowly, his mouth tight—doubtful—but his eyes… his eyes. They held Veronyka hostage, wide open and exposed. Never in her life had she so yearned to reach out with shadow magic, to know his thoughts, but she mastered the urge.
She wasn’t sure she was ready for what she might find there.
A halting movement, and he closed the distance between them, hand outstretched. It brushed across her cheek—moving aside a piece of hair—and then his gaze landed on the necklace braided among the inky strands. Pheronia’s necklace.
He seemed to sway on the spot, his attention snapping back to her, sharper now. He scanned her face, seeking, searching… Was Pheronia there somewhere? People said so. Would Theryn see it?
“Your daughter,” Alexiya added gently.
A loud thump echoed through the clearing, and they both jerked apart.
Agneta was several feet away, standing on the stairs up to her house. She was staring at them, mouth hanging open, while a bucket—the source of the sudden noise—clattered down the last few steps to land on the ground.
“Mother, I—” Alexiya began, but Agneta ignored her as she hastened into the clearing, an alarming look of fury on her face.
“My own granddaughter outside my door, and I didn’t know,” she said, sounding equal parts weepy and raging as she pushed the others aside and enveloped Veronyka in a hug. She drew back, but only so she could survey Veronyka closely. “Roots below and branches above, but you are skinny as a sapling—and sleeping out here on the ground like some wild thing! Upstairs at once. All of you.”
Her tone brooked no argument.
Veronyka looked helplessly at Tristan. He shrugged—this was family business, as far as he was concerned—and stayed out of it.
“Those two’ll behave, mark my words,” Agneta promised, nodding at her children as she wrapped an arm around Veronyka’s shoulders to steer her. “Soth take me if they don’t.”
Then she made for the stairs, dragging Veronyka with her. Alexiya followed, and Theryn brought up the rear.
The house was small, the majority of it taken up by a kitchen and a living area, with doors off the main space that presumably led to bedrooms.
Alexiya and Theryn sat at opposite ends of the rectangular dining table, as if they couldn’t get far enough from each other. Agneta gave them both severe looks, then ushered Veronyka to sit between them.
She bustled around, muttering and shaking her head. She rattled off questions but answered most of them before Veronyka got the chance.
“Do you like ginger and lemon? Of course you do—they’re good for you.” Then, “Are you hungry? No matter, I’ll whip you up a small bite.”
Her behavior seemed slightly manic—she chattered away, fussing and filling the silence—but when Veronyka saw the wide-eyed, tight-lipped look on Theryn’s face, she thought maybe her grandmother’s actions were very much on purpose. He was clearly in shock, and Veronyka tried to picture how she’d have behaved if Alexiya had dropped Theryn in front of her rather than telling her about his existence first. It was certainly a lot to take in.
After making Veronyka tea with honey, lemon, and ginger, then slicing fresh cheese and fruit, and putting out a bowl of nuts, Agneta finally sat.
She was directly across from Veronyka, staring intently. Veronyka had one bite, then two—followed by a sip of tea—but could see that this would not satisfy the woman. Despite not being the least bit hungry, Veronyka cleaned the plate, downed the tea, and reached for the bowl of nuts. Agneta beamed as she cleared away the plate and the cup, then yanked the bowl of nuts away and began shelling them herself.
Alexiya reached for some as well, but Agneta slapped her hand away, as if the nuts were for guests alone. Alexiya glowered sullenly, but her mother paid her no mind.
“Do you know what these would go great with?” Agneta asked, but once again, it was no question at all. She just leapt to her feet and bustled around the kitchen again, but this time she ordered Alexiya to help, leaving Veronyka and Theryn somewhat alone.
He still looked utterly shocked—maybe even panicked—and Veronyka felt a pang of compassion stab her chest. She had gained quite a bit of experience recently in dealing with startling revelations and understood a small fraction of what her father must be feeling. So, before she could overthink it, she reached across the table and squeezed his hand.
He met her eyes with a grateful, somewhat pathetic look on his face. Ashamed, maybe, that she had made the first move.
It was okay if he didn’t know what to do and didn’t have the right words. Veronyka didn’t really have any either. This was a life-altering event—and not just his current life. Veronyka’s existence reshaped his past, too, and the seventeen years since he’d thought he’d lost her. It wouldn’t be easy to slot everything back into place. It wouldn’t be easy to move forward.
/> When he squeezed her back, hard, Veronyka’s throat grew tight. She nodded at him, blinking away the moisture in her eyes, and then turned her attention back to Agneta.
She was putting a large tray of some custard-looking dessert on the table, and though she scooped plates for Alexiya and Theryn, the portion she gave to Veronyka was the largest.
When she wasn’t watching Veronyka eat, Agneta touched her—stroking her hair, rubbing her arm, and tugging at her clothes. Veronyka had never been so thoroughly fussed over in her entire life, and she rather enjoyed it.
After the plates were scraped clean, Agneta stood and cleared everything away once more.
As Veronyka looked up, her father and grandmother shared a significant look. “I think it’s time, Theryn.”
Alexiya—who’d been stealing a spoonful of dessert from the tray as her mother lifted it—froze.
“Time for what?”
The floor creaked, and then Theryn was standing next to Veronyka. He was the one to hold out his hand this time. “I’d like to show you something.”
Veronyka took it.
They climbed back down the tree, Alexiya and Agneta behind them. Hestia took the chance to check on her patient, and after a hesitant glance at Veronyka—who waved him over—Tristan fell into step beside her.
Theryn led them deeper into the forest, over packed earth and knotted roots, between towering trees and hanging boughs. He released her hand to lift aside a swaying branch, but he reached back to help her underneath—never letting more than a breath of space open between them.
They eventually reached a ring of dense trees, their branches hanging almost to the ground and covered in great big leafy fronds. Through the greenery they went, finding a kind of valley on the other side with a massive tree in the center. It was so large that it seemed to draw the surrounding earth down with it, the humungous roots sticking out of the ground and in some places nearly as tall as Veronyka.
Theryn led them down the slope and around the rippling roots to the space directly in front of the tree, where a dark, yawning mouth opened. A door?
Glancing over his shoulder, he continued forward, into the great tree, its trunk probably thirty people wide at least. And inside… it had been hollowed out, carved to create a cavernous, soaring interior. As Veronyka’s eyes adjusted, she saw signs of habitation—tables arranged around the edges of the space, shelves bearing supplies, and stairs like the ones that led up to her grandmother’s house, but inside the tree rather than outside it. People were there too, emerging from what she could only assume were rooms above, carved into the branches and knots of the exterior tree. They watched the newcomers warily, ranging in age from small children to old folks.
Theryn looked back at her, smiling for the first time since they’d met as he watched Veronyka gape.
Because above it all, perched atop steps and shelves and every other available surface, were phoenixes.
Were we meant to spread our magic like rays of sunlight—touching all beneath us?
- CHAPTER 33 - SEV
NEWS DIDN’T ARRIVE UNTIL the morning after their arrival at Seltlake.
Sev had spent the majority of the previous day at their camp sulking—with a kind of quiet dignity, he thought—as the Phoenix Riders flew patrols and trained together. While Kade was an apprentice and the others masters, they treated him with friendship and respect. Even the bitchy one, Latham. Kade was older than everyone but Ronyn, which helped, and from what Sev gathered by casual eavesdropping and the odd session of lipreading, Kade’s closeness with Veronyka had clearly elevated his station at the Eyrie.
Sev knew Veronyka too—for just as long as Kade, if not so well—but he kept that information to himself. Which was, yes… sulking. Maybe he could have handled standing around bored or turning down offers to train in combat—he wasn’t going to willingly embarrass himself if he could help it—if it weren’t for Jinx.
She stared at him constantly. Phoenixes were curious by nature. Sev had figured that out soon enough. But while the others spared him little more than a cursory glance and a cocked, inquisitive head, Jinx stared at Sev avidly. When he actually drew near the phoenixes, they often squawked and shuffled away, as if his very presence were off-putting. He was clearly an anomaly—an animage who had no idea how to use his magic—but to Jinx, he was more. A puzzle.
I know, Sev had thought in resignation, watching her watch him from across the fireside during the evening meal. You’re trying to figure it out. Trying to understand why her bondmate cared for Sev—when he wasn’t busy scowling at him for what he’d called Sev’s “stubborn bouts of relentless self-pity”—and how such a person could draw the notice of Kade in the first place.
I don’t get it either.
When it came time to sleep, Sev helped Kade set up his two-person tent, but it was decidedly awkward. Sev warred within himself, knowing he should draw a line between them now, before things went too far, but also desperate to cling to whatever scraps of their relationship remained while he still could.
He was saved from having to decide because Kade had been inserted into their patrol rotation, and by the time he’d returned that night, Sev had been fast asleep. In fact, he didn’t see Kade until he’d lurched out of the tent for breakfast, and that was when Lysandro returned early from his patrol with a messenger pigeon on his shoulder.
He was pale as he read the letter aloud over the damp, early-morning fire.
Rolan was dead. The Grand Council had been attacked by Avalkyra Ashfire’s Phoenix Rider ally, guaranteeing war. And the commander was gravely wounded. In addition to the strix attack, which Kade had filled Sev in on the previous day, it was extremely hard to find a silver lining in their current situation. To imagine how they would make it through this.
Sev was also weirdly deflated about Lord Rolan’s death. His actions had nearly gotten Sev, Kade, and half the other Phoenix Riders killed on numerous occasions, not to mention his imprisonment of Tristan and attempted marriage to Veronyka. He was finally out of the way, and yet, many of their problems remained.
“We’re to fly to Arboria,” Lysandro continued, frowning in apparent surprise, while Anders perked up.
“Where?” he asked, leaning to read over Lysandro’s shoulder.
“It says to skirt south of Aura Nova; then Alexiya will meet us on the eastern shore of the Fingers, in Arboria South. She’s going to lead us from there.”
“Why, though?” asked Latham. “It’s not much closer than Prosperity, and I can’t imagine the empire is the safest place for us.”
“I suspect they’re watching the border closely,” Ronyn said, “and we can’t stay here. Better to be together.”
The rest of that day was spent packing up and preparing, as they would fly through the night to hide their tracks and hopefully avoid detection. While the empire would no doubt be looking for them crossing into Pyra or flying near the border, it was very doubtful they would expect to find Phoenix Riders in Arboria. The region was covered with ready kindling and had a notorious dislike for all things firebird. Sev thought it was a clever place to regroup.
Though he had been avoiding both Kade and Jinx, when the time came to fly out, he was surprised and a little uneasy to learn he would be riding with Anders. Ronyn’s phoenix was technically largest, but Ronyn was heavier even than Kade, and Anders was considered the better flyer.
Sev had flashed a confused—and if he was honest, slightly hurt—look at Kade, forgetting their argument in favor of this unexpected complication, but Kade seemed equally unhappy about it. Clearly, this wasn’t his doing.
“Jinx is, what, barely two months old?” Anders explained, turning the words to Kade, who nodded stiffly. “She’s already a good size for her age, but she’s not used to flying so far or carrying such a heavy load. Kade’s large enough,” he added with a playful elbow to Kade’s side. Kade remained stony and unsmiling, but Anders was unperturbed.
Despite his reassurances, when Sev approached Anders’
s mount, the phoenix balked. Sev’s nerves were taut as a bowstring, and the phoenix could surely feel it.
It didn’t help that Kade’s dark expression followed his every movement as he mounted up and wrapped his arms around Anders’s middle. Jinx squawked as if in reproach, and Anders’s mount lifted his head imperiously, asserting his impressive status as a slightly older and slightly larger phoenix. Sev found their social dynamics interesting—or at least he would have, if he weren’t so uneasy.
Flying during the day had been an overwhelming experience, a mix of fear, adrenaline, and visceral wonder at the world experienced from such a height, at such a speed, on such a beast. Of course, Sev had not let himself enjoy it, but he hadn’t missed the fact that he was seeing the world as his parents had seen it—as Kade would continue to see it—and that had resulted in an influx of conflicting emotions.
But flying at night turned the experience into something personal and intimate—there was just the wind and the stars, with everything else fading away into peaceful oblivion. Anders was a friendly sort who made the journey less uncomfortable than it could have been, but Sev found himself desperately wishing he’d taken this nocturnal flight with Kade. As it was, he watched Kade fly alongside them, filled with awe and admiration. Kade looked utterly himself in the saddle on phoenix-back, and though Sev felt out of place in such a glorious scene, he was happy to be witness to it.
They paused briefly when they met with Alexiya—an older Rider and apparently Veronyka’s aunt, though not on her royal Ashfire side—but they had to move on if they wanted to reach their destination before morning. Sev was meant to be pawned off on Latham next, but Kade stepped forward and insisted Jinx was up to the job in a tone Sev could only describe as both protective and possessive. He tried not to let his relief—and satisfaction—show. He couldn’t let himself get used to being Kade’s. He couldn’t let himself need it.
Hazy sunlight was beginning to slice through the towering forest as they made their final descent. They landed in a clearing next to the largest tree Sev had ever seen in his life. It dwarfed even those soaring giants that surrounded it, and its roots dug so deep into the earth it had created a kind of sunken valley around its base.
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