“Jax?” Elliot said sharply, looking around, but the phoenix was already there, legs bent to offer up his saddlebags—and a med kit.
Shelter, came Ignix’s imperious voice in Elliot’s mind. He spotted her a few feet away, a dull coat of dust across her usually gleaming feathers, her wing bent at an unnatural angle. Behind her, the entrance to the tunnel was reduced to a pile of smoking rubble.
Yes, they needed shelter—but with Ignix in that state, they wouldn’t be able to fly back to the way station.
“There’s a cave,” Elliot said, craning his neck to scan the landscape and reorient himself. “Just down the slope and around that bit of stone.”
Ignix set off at once, walking gingerly, her bad wing dangling by her side, and Elliot wished he had the benefit of Ersken’s—or even Riella’s—expertise.
“We need to get that arm set,” he said to Sparrow, forcing confidence into his voice, even if he didn’t feel it. “But I’m just going to wrap it in a sling for now until we find shelter.”
She nodded, wobbling to her feet—and Elliot found his own head spinning as he stood, a dull ache forming at the base of his skull.
After hastily securing Sparrow’s arm, he put away his supplies and turned to her once more.
“I’m going to lift you into Jax’s saddle. Is that okay?”
She nodded, and Elliot took her around the waist—doing his best to avoid her arm—and hoisted her into the seat. She was distressingly light, and he made a mental note to get food going as soon as they were inside the cave.
“You’re coming too?” she said uncertainly.
“I’ll walk. I don’t want to jostle your arm.”
Sparrow wore a somewhat alarmed look. “I can’t—I don’t want—” she spluttered, her good arm patting the saddle, seeking somewhere to hold.
“Jax will fly slow. You won’t—”
But Jax shot him an exasperated look at that point, craning his neck around to stare at Elliot and then, pointedly, at Sparrow. She was shaking, hand still fluttering across the straps and buckles, and Elliot realized that he was doing it again—that polite distance thing he did when he felt nervous or guilty, and right now he was feeling both. Guilty for abandoning Sparrow to this fate and nervous because she was important to him in a way he didn’t fully understand. Distance was easier when you didn’t know where you stood, and that had been Elliot’s life at the Eyrie. At first because he was lying and betraying the people around him—guilt—and then because he’d been caught and exposed and so had assumed that his presence was unwanted or unwelcome—nerves.
But Sparrow had never given him that impression, not once. His chest ached at the realization that his life had changed recently because of it.
And now he was pulling away when what she needed was to have him close.
She’d never flown by herself; plus, she was badly hurt, half-starved, and had been trapped in a dank tunnel for days. Now was not the time to give her space.
Now was the time to reassure her that he’d never abandon her again.
He mounted up behind her, his arms caging her in on either side, ensuring there was no way she could fall or lose her balance. Her stiff, trembling body seemed to relax all at once, leaning into him, and he hung on tight as Jax lurched up and into the sky.
He soared low around the bend and toward one of the caves they’d checked earlier. It was relatively shallow but tucked into a recess of stone that should offer good protection while still keeping them safe from any potential cave-ins.
Ignix was already there, backed into the farthest corner, and after carefully helping Sparrow down from the saddle, Elliot got to work.
He splinted Sparrow first—she had a break in one of the bones of her forearm, so she still had mobility in the shoulder, which made things easier. Once it was wrapped tight and secured, he put the arm back into the sling and forced first some water, then bread into her good hand. He’d have to get a kettle going for the medicinal tea he had in his pack. Jax seized the chance to help, flying off with Fife on his saddle and returning with gigantic branches clutched in his beak—Fife with tiny twigs and leaves in his.
Ignix was trickier. She was irritable and impatient, and could tell quite plainly that Elliot was no expert. But she also recognized that her accelerated healing meant if she didn’t get the bones set soon, she’d wind up with a crooked, unusable wing.
Once the fire was going, Elliot had to enlist Jax’s assistance. Ignix’s wingspan was vast, and the appendage appeared to be broken in two places. If Elliot was wary of the old phoenix, Jax was properly terrified, jumpy and twitchy and fluttering every time she squawked or snapped at him.
Get it together, Elliot ordered after twice losing hold of his bandages when Jax anxiously bumped his arm.
Elliot swore he felt something like amusement come from Ignix then, and he secretly suspected she was enjoying giving Jax a hard time.
When at last Elliot had secured the bones as best he could, he wrapped the wing tightly against her body and stepped back.
She sank low to the ground, looking small and forlorn and not the least bit terrifying, and Elliot expelled a sigh of relief. He gave her food and water, too, and she took it without complaint before closing her eyes and going to sleep.
Elliot put the kettle on, and while the water boiled, he unpacked all his camp supplies, setting up a bedroll for Sparrow with thick blankets and clothes piled underneath to soften the hard ground. She needed a wash—Elliot did too—but her eyes were drooping as she chewed her bread, hunched over against the cave wall, and he decided it could wait.
He made her drink a cup of the pungent tea, trying not to laugh as she coughed and spluttered and pulled ridiculous faces, and then he guided her over to her bed. Jax took up a position at the cave mouth to keep watch, and as the fire started to burn low, the night’s cold seeped in.
Sparrow shivered under her blankets, and though Fine Fellow nuzzled in against her neck, it wasn’t enough to banish the chill.
Elliot sighed, fighting an internal battle with propriety, uncertainty, and just plain common sense. He unrolled his bed several feet away from hers, paused, dragged it closer—and closer—then stopped again, annoyed at himself and not entirely sure why.
He straightened, then walked over to the cave entrance. Jax had been watching the sorry display and cocked his head as Elliot approached. “Go ahead, Jax,” he said, for the phoenix was staring at Sparrow’s small, shivering form with obvious concern. “I’ll keep watch instead.”
Jax was confused about his bizarre behavior—Elliot couldn’t blame him—but fluttered obediently to Sparrow’s side, hunching down low and emitting a soft, golden glow whose warmth Elliot could feel across the cave.
The tension in Sparrow unspooled; her shivers stopped, and before long her breath turned steady and rhythmic.
Elliot turned his back on them as he settled against the cave mouth, arms crossed and legs outstretched, staring up at the starry sky. He was relieved and restless in equal measure, but thought that for once in his life, he’d managed to do something right.
But there is another Ashfire. One who could carry the weight… if I let her. One who could challenge Avalkyra and win.
- CHAPTER 38 - SEV
LIFE AT HAVEN FELT very much like Sev’s time on his parents’ farm, and though that had taken up such a small part of his life, it seemed some habits dug roots and refused to budge—like the stubborn weeds he wrenched from their vegetable gardens.
Kade and the other Riders were always busy with training and patrols, and so Sev found other ways to make himself useful. He fed the animals, collected chicken eggs, and found a veritable treasure trove of wild berries hidden in a thick patch of overgrown bushes and bramble that he helped clear away.
Though slightly rough around the edges, Haven was a well-run, self-sustaining place. Theryn was the undisputed leader, and surprisingly not an animage but a military man. Sev had wondered at his background, noting his rigid posture
and the orderly way he governed his people, but while he might have guessed Theryn had once served in the army, he’d never have guessed his ties to Veronyka.
Learning the man’s identity and the full truth of Veronyka’s childhood definitely helped him understand how Haven had come to be.
“Wait—he thought they’d both died?” Sev asked Gus, one of the non–Phoenix Rider animages who lived at Haven. They were at the well, drawing up buckets of water.
“Mother and daughter,” Gus confirmed grimly. He was a quiet man, not prone to gossip, but he was also the oldest member of Haven and had been there from the beginning, so he knew more than all the others. Sev found he opened up after a few hours of work, and today was no different.
“You’d think that’d make him hate everything to do with Phoenix Riders,” Gus said thoughtfully, pausing after he hoisted a newly filled bucket to the ground. “But he knew his child had been an animage. This was his way of honoring her, I think.”
Sev straightened and peered through the trees, toward Haven. It seemed to him that being around animages and Phoenix Riders would be a constant reminder, both of his pain and his position on the outside. But maybe it was better to remember, better to do something than to do nothing.
If an ex-soldier like Theryn could find his place among the Phoenix Riders, was there a chance Sev could too?
Footsteps echoed from the staircase that led up to Agneta’s cottage, and Gus fumbled the second bucket, dropping it with a loud clatter. Sev smirked—he suspected Gus was sweet on Agneta, though he was worse than Sev when it came to keeping his cool or articulating his feelings.
“Not working him too hard, I hope?” Agneta asked once she’d reached the ground, gesturing to Sev. Hestia was with her.
Gus smiled and spluttered and shook his head, hands clasped behind his back like a schoolboy. “No, ma’am.”
Agneta snorted.
“How is it, Sevro?” Hestia asked, nodding at his shoulder. His movements were still somewhat restricted, but it was mostly stiffness now, not pain—and he rolled the joint and rotated his arm in demonstration. She nodded. “I’ll whip up a compress for later anyway, just in case.”
It was completely unnecessary, but Sev had learned by now that it was Hestia’s way of doing something, and Agneta’s constant movement was much the same. The pair of them stared fondly at him, and Sev wondered at his ability to charm older women. It seemed each one he met wanted to pester and smother and overfeed him.
“Finish that and wash up,” Agneta said, as she and Hestia headed for the path that led through to Haven. “I’ll have a plate made for you by the time you’re finished.”
Though there were many others who could cook—and sometimes did—Agneta had appointed herself unofficial mother of Haven, taking every chance she could to fuss, particularly over Veronyka, though he received his fair share as well.
Gus stared wistfully at Agneta’s retreating back.
“You could talk to her,” Sev said, and Gus leapt as if he’d been scolded.
“About what?” he asked, bewildered.
“Maybe about the flowers you leave her every time you drop off vegetables from the garden?” Sev asked innocently, and Gus’s face turned redder than a beet. Sev held up his hands. “Just a suggestion.”
* * *
Sev had been carefully avoiding Kade ever since they’d arrived at Haven. That meant coming to mealtimes late or leaving early, and tonight was no exception. But despite Sev turning up a good hour after their usual dinnertime, Kade, Veronyka, and Tristan, plus several other Riders from the Eyrie and from Haven, were still seated by the cook fire. Most of the rest of Haven’s occupants had already come and gone, and even Agneta remained only long enough to hand him a plate before disappearing into the darkness back to her house.
After choosing a spot across the flames from Kade, Sev picked at his food in silence, aware every moment of Kade’s burning gaze on him.
Low conversation hummed around them. Things had seemed a bit tense at first between the Eyrie Riders and the Haven Riders—a certain wariness pervading their interactions, as if each side feared what the other thought of them. Veronyka and Tristan’s Riders were fighting a war and were obviously worried about bringing danger to the small slice of safety the members of Haven had sought. Meanwhile, the Haven Riders probably worried the others judged them for hiding away or not being involved.
However, once they started speaking to one another, it was clear that they were all just extremely glad to find others like them, whatever the circumstances. Latham and Sarra had family connections through their parents in Aura Nova, and Jonny had seen Anders’s parents perform with their acting troupe in Stelarbor. Ronyn and Gus talked for hours about Arborian farming, and Tristan and Lysandro had lived in the same border town in the Foothills as Erend and knew a lot of the same people.
Even Sev could talk easily with Rosalind, who had been a Phoenix Rider courier—something he had never heard of before. She used to fly messages all over Aura Nova and knew every neighborhood and corner of the city better than he did. She was short and slight—as was her phoenix, which made for good speed and agility—and had such a sharp eye for detail, she’d have caught Trix’s interest at once. She’d pegged Sev’s Narrows accent instantly and guessed that Kade had been a bondservant because of the tiniest of tan lines across the back of his neck where his chain had once lain.
Kade, on the other hand, was particularly interested in Ivan, who was big and brawny as well and who used to work Phoenix Rider construction. Ivan and his large, steady mount helped create bridges and buildings with other teams of phoenixes, who were able to lift huge beams of wood and heavy slabs of marble, creating structures like they had in ancient Pyra, which were impossible to achieve without flying builders. In fact, much of Aura Nova had fallen into disrepair since the Blood War, their grounded construction crews ill equipped to fix soaring archways or towering buildings.
Despite the lingering tension between him and Kade, Sev felt warm and content sitting in front of the crackling flames, the leafy canopy above and towering trees fading into the darkness on all sides. It was peaceful just listening as Anders laughed at a joke Jonny told and Veronyka leaned into Tristan, whispering in his ear. It all felt strangely… normal.
“To be honest, I never thought I’d get accepted in the first place,” Rosalind was saying when Veronyka asked how she wound up a courier.
“Why not?” Sev asked.
“I was dirt poor, for starters,” she said. “I could barely read and write. And I was never much of an animage.”
“Really?” Veronyka said, leaning forward curiously.
Rosalind shrugged, but Sev found himself hanging on her every word. “Couldn’t make our damned house cat do what I wanted, never mind an unfamiliar creature or wild animal.”
“Cats are notoriously tricky,” Tristan said fairly.
“So are phoenixes,” added Veronyka, and everyone grinned.
“But I wanted to fly, so I applied. There’s a test they give you,” she said. “Or they used to, anyway.” She cleared her throat. “They brought all the new applicants into the arena. First they made you walk past a group of full-grown phoenixes.”
“To see how the applicants reacted?” Veronyka guessed.
“That,” Rosalind said with a smirk, “but also the firebirds themselves. The humans reacted fairly predictably—fear, excitement, or even indifference. But the phoenixes… They’ve got a sense for these kinds of things. They’ll single out humans who interest them, who have active minds and open hearts.”
Awareness prickled over Sev’s skin, and he caught Kade staring at him from across the flames. His expression was confrontational, challenging.
Sev glowered. Just because Jinx stared at him didn’t mean she’d “singled him out,” and it definitely didn’t mean he had an “active mind and an open heart.”
It didn’t mean anything.
“So what happened?” Veronyka pressed.
&
nbsp; Rosalind flashed a smile. “One of them chased me. I ran away screaming—but I managed to navigate my way through the labyrinthine tunnels without getting lost, and that caught the attention of one of the courier masters. I passed the other tests, and they admitted me. Wasn’t long until I’d hatched Xippolyta—Xip, for short.”
A rustling sounded above; Xip herself, along with the rest of the phoenixes, perched in the shadowy branches.
Sev stared at his feet, hating the hope that Rosalind’s story caused to bloom inside his chest.
It was so tempting to believe that it could happen for him, too. That he was special, that he could belong here with all of them, but he knew this slice of life was temporary—that it would be foolish to get comfortable here. Time was not on their side, and just because Rosalind had been given a chance didn’t mean Sev ever would.
“So how did you come to be here, then?” Anders asked the group at large, though it was Jonny who replied. He was probably in his forties—as light and smiling as Anders was—and had been a fully trained Phoenix Rider when the war broke out.
“I knew Theryn from the Stellan Uprising,” he explained. “I’d been injured in the fighting”—he lifted his arm to show a nasty scar from elbow to wrist—“and he was in the healer’s tent more often than not, on guard duty with the princess.” That must be Pheronia, Veronyka’s mother. “So we got to talking, and then afterward I was stationed in Aura Nova, so we’d see each other every now and again. But then, well…” He swallowed, and the light seemed to leave his eyes as he continued. “We next saw each other during the Last Battle. Things were totally unraveled by then: friend or foe, enemy or ally… None of it seemed to matter when so many were dead. We left the capital together. He was already with Gus—he’d been a hostler in the capital and helped manage Theryn’s horses—and so I traveled with them. I left for a few years to look for my family, but I found my way back. Even found Ivan along the way!”
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