Wings of Shadow

by Nicki Pau Preto

  Veronyka sighed and turned to her grandmother again. “Thank you for giving me this.”

  “Giving you what, child?” Agneta asked, face pinched with worry and tears dampening her cheeks. She reached for Veronyka again, tugging at her tunic and smoothing her hair.

  “Something like a home,” Veronyka said, forcing a smile on her lips. “Something like a family.”

  Agneta’s eyes welled up again, but she didn’t break down. She sniffed loudly and straightened. “Mind you don’t forget to eat dinner,” she said, some of her usual stern brusqueness back in place. “There’s plenty of food, so take what you need. Take extra.”

  Veronyka smiled genuinely then. “I promise I’ll send word.” She noticed that the clearing around them was filled with people now—Tristan and the rest of his patrol, Sev and Kade, as well as some of the inhabitants of Haven. “As soon as we’re finished. With any luck… that’ll be the end of it.”

  “Send a fast pigeon, won’t you?” Agneta whispered.

  Veronyka nodded before wrapping her arms around the woman in a tight hug. When she pulled away, she found Xephyra edging nearer, worry filtering through the bond. Veronyka wanted to bury her face in her bondmate’s neck, but she fought the urge and leapt onto her back instead. Avoiding Theryn’s heavy gaze, she settled in the saddle and waved at her grandmother. The rest of the Riders mounted up, and with Tristan in the lead, they took to the sky.

  As they whipped through the forest, an ache started building in Veronyka’s chest. It was part nostalgia for a life never lived and part longing for a future that might never come.

  But as their flight turned north and they made their way back into Pyra, Veronyka’s focus sharpened and her hesitance evaporated.

  She didn’t know if she was ready to face Val, but she was about to find out.

  Like all power, magic on such a scale can achieve wondrous and terrible things.

  - CHAPTER 43 - SPARROW

  SPARROW AWOKE WITH CHIRP in her hair and a grizzly bear at her back.

  No… not Chirp—her heart throbbed—but Fine Fellow. And not a grizzly bear but a person, someone sleeping nearby and snoring louder than a rockslide. Sparrow could say that with certainty, having very recently experienced the sound. Then the night came back to her, and she craned her neck, listening for the source of the echoing, rumbling noise.

  Sparrow could sense Ignix near the back of the cave, while Jax was close enough to touch, and no doubt the reason she was so warm and comfortable.

  So the snoring… it must be Elliot.

  Fife croaked an irritated affirmation—she wasn’t the only one who’d been wakened by the racket—and Sparrow slumped back against the soft blankets, a small, tentative smile settling on her face.

  Elliot had come back for her. Sparrow’s chest ached with the truth of it, strange and overwhelming. No one ever came back for her.

  Another impossibly loud snort cut through the silence of the morning, and next to her, Jax expelled a sigh.

  Sparrow smiled more widely, but apparently Fife did not find it amusing. A gust of wind rippled over her face, followed by a cry of pain and rustle of movement, as if Elliot had just been brought abruptly—and painfully—to wakefulness.

  “Bloody raven,” he mumbled, and she heard him swipe and swat helplessly at the air, because of course Fife was already back on Sparrow’s other side, smug and self-important as usual.

  A low warbling sound came from Jax—something that sounded very like laughter.

  “You’re just gonna let him treat me like that, are you?” Elliot asked, speaking to Jax, who chirruped and rustled his feathers. There was a pause, then—“I was? Did I wake…? Uh, morning, Sparrow.”

  There was a scrape of boot on stone, and footsteps coming Sparrow’s way. She felt nervous all of a sudden, and tried to sit upright again, though her balance was off, thanks to her arm. She managed it, but then her head swam with the movement. She thought she was about to topple over again, but then Elliot was there with a bracing hand on her shoulder.

  “Maybe this will help,” he said, pressing something long and smooth into her hands. My spear.

  “I thought…” She swallowed, her throat tight. “I thought I lost it.”

  “Well, I found it,” Elliot said, his tone light—but she thought he sounded pleased. Proud, even.

  Sparrow clutched the stick against her chest, feeling foolish and embarrassed but also immensely happy. She had the sense Elliot was studying her closely. She did not like it. No doubt she looked even worse than she felt. Her arm ached something fierce, but she refused to acknowledge it or ask for more medicine. She also felt light-headed—luckily, it was her stomach that did the asking. It grumbled loudly, and Elliot laughed.

  “Food,” he said firmly. There was noise: sloshing water and the clatter of tin, a dull thumping that sounded like a wooden spoon, and the crinkle of waxed paper. Jax’s talons scraped into the earth next to her, and she suspected he was going to help Elliot with the fire.

  “Thanks, Jaxon,” she said. “For keeping me warm.”

  He preened—satisfaction emanating from him—and Sparrow smiled. Jax was the most unguarded phoenix she’d ever met, and the easiest to read even when his mind wasn’t open to her. Everything in his sounds and demeanor was earnest and warm. Elliot, on the other hand, was prickly as a porcupine.

  Humans, she thought darkly, and Fine Fellow croaked his agreement.

  Sparrow yawned so widely her jaw creaked, and she thought about lying down again but knew she needed to eat to get her strength up.

  “Sorry,” Elliot said, his voice moving as he finished what he was doing by the fire and sat down. “I was keeping watch and must have drifted off. I don’t normally snore.” Fife huffed skeptically, and Sparrow swore she could hear Elliot’s grin. “That’s enough out of you,” he said with false sternness. “My ear’s bleeding, you savage creature.”

  Fife snapped his beak several times and croaked again. “Fine Fellow says it’s his ears that are bleeding, what with you snortin’ like a pig and all.”

  There was a stunned silence, then a bark of laughter. Sparrow grinned stupidly.

  “I have a feeling you embellished that a bit,” Elliot said fondly. “Never known a raven to speak so eloquently.”

  “Fine Fellow says you haven’t known enough ravens, then,” Sparrow replied innocently. It was true she’d dressed it up a little—only phoenixes could speak with words like that, but if Sparrow got to know an animal well enough, she could easily put into words the sentiments they put into her mind.

  “I guess not,” Elliot conceded, laughter in his voice. “Shame, because I do love a smart-mouthed bird.”

  Jax and Fife squawked at the remark, but Sparrow found her cheeks heating. She was a bird too, was she not? Or at least named for one. And it wouldn’t be the first time she’d been called smart-mouthed… but it would be the first time it felt like a compliment.

  Elliot cleared his throat, and she wondered if he’d meant it that way too.

  “Chirp… was he a sparrow?”

  Sparrow was surprised by the question. “Yes.”

  “Is that where your name comes from?” There were sounds again, stirring and scraping—food being prepared.

  She shrugged. “Sorta. Sparrows were always my favorite growing up—meaning no disrespect,” she added to Fife, who accepted her apology with good grace. “I used to always have a flock of them with me wherever I went, so people started calling me Sparrow. But then once Chirp was born—I had his ma in my flock for a while—he became my special friend. They were city birds, my flock, but I was ready for the country. Chirp was the only one brave enough to come with me.”

  Sparrow didn’t talk about her time in Aura Nova much. After the temple, after her parents had given her up. It made her feel raw. Exposed.

  But then Elliot was moving again, and she sensed him crouch in front of her, his body blocking the heat of the fire. “Here,” he murmured, plucking the spear from her
hand and giving her a warm bowl. “It’s on the ground next to you. And breakfast is hot, so make sure to eat slow.”

  Sparrow crooked the bowl against her chest using the hand in her sling, the warmth seeping through the fabric of her shirt, then slowly stirred its contents, breathing deep the scent of honey and toasted oats. She wanted to gobble it down, and her first mouthful was both scalding hot and far too large, so it was lucky Elliot was there to clap her on the back and hand her a cup of water.

  “Slow,” he said firmly, but not without kindness, and Sparrow sighed and settled in to wait.

  “Maybe I should be Raven now,” she said thoughtfully as Fife perched on her shoulder and helped himself to several beakfuls of her breakfast. “Since I’m keeping different company.”

  Elliot sucked in a breath of air to speak—then didn’t. Sparrow fidgeted, wanting her spear again to spin and twirl to channel her restless energy.

  “But then what happens when you become a Phoenix Rider?” he asked after a time, and Sparrow’s lungs hitched in her chest. How did he know it was her dearest wish? A stupid, foolish wish, because she was poor and blind, and who would ever choose her?

  “W-what do you mean?” she asked, still breathless.

  She heard him shift—a shrug. “Well, we’d have to call you Phoenix, then, wouldn’t we? Seems a bit confusing. I say you stick with Sparrow.” He paused. “I like it.”

  Sparrow cheeks warmed. “I like it too,” she agreed.

  There were several moments of comfortable silence, then—

  “Look,” Elliot said, moving closer to her. “Sparrow, I want to say sorry. I never should have—”

  Sparrow shook her head resolutely. “Don’t.”

  He made an unhappy sound. “I didn’t mean to choose Riella over you, or make it seem like I didn’t care about your safety as much as hers. I was just… I couldn’t let her down again, but then I let you down instead. And I hate it.”

  “She’s your sister,” Sparrow said reasonably. “And you’re a good brother. I wish—” She halted.

  “You wish what?” he asked. He was so close to her now, she could feel it when he breathed, the fabric of his clothes scraping against hers.

  Sparrow tried to find the words. What did she wish? That she’d had an older brother like Elliot to care about and miss her? That she knew where her siblings were, that maybe she’d let them down too, even though her parents had been the ones to give her up? But wishing did no good.… Sparrow had learned that long ago. “You didn’t let me down,” she said finally.

  “I left you behind,” he said, like the words pained him to speak aloud. “I put you second.”

  Sparrow shrugged, but her throat was tight. “I don’t mind, really, being second to her.” It was better than not being on the list at all, though she decided not to say that part out loud.

  “You’re not,” he said forcefully, angrily. “You are not second, not to me. You’re—” He faltered, and Sparrow would have given anything to hear the rest of that sentence. He took a deep, calming breath. “I promise I won’t ever make you feel that way again. I won’t ever leave you behind. That is, I mean… unless you want me to. If you’d rather—”

  “No, I wouldn’t,” Sparrow said quickly.

  “Good,” he said, sounding relieved. “You’re stuck with me, then.”

  Sparrow beamed.

  * * *

  She slept most of the day, though Elliot woke her in the afternoon so she wouldn’t wind up being awake all night. He’d brought her a change of clothes that must have belonged to Riella, as well as a bucket of warm water to wash with. Fife, determined to be of use, fluttered and fussed, but he only spilled the bucket and got tangled in her hair. Elliot wound up helping her into one of his tunics instead, the sleeves large enough for her splint to fit through.

  Sparrow’s face was scorching hot, but Fife assured her that Elliot was being a proper gentleman and looking the other way—and even nipped at his ears again when he half turned to see if she was decent.

  Ignix was silent and watchful, surveying their interactions with mild interest. Or at least, that’s how Sparrow perceived it.

  “What’re you lookin’ at?” she demanded after Elliot took away the bathwater to dump outside the cave.

  Mating rituals, Ignix said. Sparrow spluttered in outrage, but Elliot had returned by then, so she didn’t dare reply. At least, the phoenix added, humor in her voice, that is how it appears to me.

  “Then you’re blinder than I am,” Sparrow muttered.

  Ignix huffed, the sound like laughter, and Sparrow fought off her own smile—as well as the growing bubble of hope inside her chest.

  After checking Sparrow’s injury—first, she noted, not second—Elliot unwrapped Ignix’s bandages. She tested her wing, filling the cave with gusts of air.

  “There’s no pain?” Elliot asked. Ignix must have shaken her head or replied directly into his mind. “Then you’re ready to fly.”

  Sparrow waited, breath held for what Ignix would do next. Would she leave them now? Take off to fight Avalkyra on her own, as she insisted she must, or would she let Sparrow and the others help her?

  What of the chick? Ignix asked—and Sparrow was indignant to realize the phoenix meant her.

  “Sparrow? She won’t be using her arm anytime soon, but I think she should be able to manage the flight to Prosperity, once she’s eaten.”

  I shall escort you, then, and ensure you arrive safely.

  “You will?” Sparrow blurted, unable to disguise the surprise in her voice. “But what about Avalkyra? I thought you were the only one who could defeat her?”

  Ignix shifted slightly. That is what I thought too, for many years. Centuries, in fact. There were times when I might have stepped aside and shared the load, but I thought to do so was to be a coward. To hide from my responsibilities. And so, when Lyra the Defender needed to unify the entirety of the world’s Phoenix Riders, I summoned them and led the charge. When Elysia the Peacemaker traveled down the mountainside, her queendom at her back, I called the ranks together, and I blazed the trail. They flew behind me, but never in front. Never beside. But perhaps… Perhaps I need not do it all alone.

  Sparrow’s head was spinning. All these grand moments in Phoenix Rider history, made possible because of Ignix. And yet… “Why isn’t your name mentioned in the history books? In The Pyraean Epics? Why does everyone think you just disappeared?”

  Because I let them. The distance suited me, and with no one close to me…

  “You couldn’t get hurt,” Sparrow offered gently. It was why she’d always kept moving, never staying in one place too long—never bothering with people friends. She was rejecting them before they could reject her, but Ignix had been practicing avoidance of a different sort, though the result was the same. Loneliness.

  Avalkyra changed all that, Ignix said, her words harder now. I thought I’d seen enough when she tore the empire in two and condemned the hatchlings to die in the Aura Nova training grounds, but she wasn’t finished. She broke into my mind and took what little I had left. But then the other one, Veronyka… She gave it back. I will do all I can to help her. Avalkyra must be dealt with, and we will face that hurdle together. All of us.

  Sparrow grinned from ear to ear. It seemed the phoenix had taken her words about everyone needing help to heart, and Sparrow relished the idea that she’d made a difference.

  “So what’s been happening?” Sparrow asked Elliot as he prepared one last meal before they departed. She was itching to get back to her friends—the animals, of course, but also the humans. Riella and Ersken and Veronyka, too. Her friends, her flock.

  “I have no idea,” he admitted. “When I left, they were still scrambling to settle Prosperity, though Veronyka and the commander were heading south to rescue Tristan and deal with Lord Rolan.”

  Sparrow scowled at the name of the man who’d blackmailed Elliot and held Riella hostage.

  “I’ve been looking for you ever since,” he c
ontinued. “The Riders have been patrolling the area, but at a very safe distance. I think they just want to know if she leaves.” There was a pause as he hefted a pot onto the fire, its contents sloshing and sizzling as they made contact with the flames. “It would be nice to know, well, anything else about what’s going on in the Eyrie, but I don’t know how we could without putting ourselves at risk.”

  “I think I do,” Sparrow announced, turning to Ignix, who was standing at the mouth of the cave. “You can sense them, can’t you?”

  I can, Ignix agreed warily. That is how I knew Avalkyra was up to something on Pyrmont’s summit.… I could feel the darkness there.

  “Could you reach them from here? Find out what they’re doing?”

  Unease radiated from her. I have been keeping my magic close in order to conceal our whereabouts, and to hide the fact that I survived in case it brought them down on us. To reach for them now could alert them to our presence.

  “But we’re leaving anyway, right? This is our last chance to figure out more for Veronyka and the others,” Sparrow said. “Besides, you’re apex. You’re special. No one else has the kinda range and power that you do.”

  You may cease with the flattery. I will do it.

  Sparrow snorted. “Knew you were a vain old thing.”

  As Elliot doled out their meal, Sparrow found herself edging closer to Ignix. Some desire or instinct told her to put a hand on her silken feathers—to offer what support she could. Ignix was rigid with focus, her mind as distant and unknowable as it had been the first time they’d met. But she unfurled like a flower at Sparrow’s contact, and the trust that had developed between them felt as beautiful and delicate as a spring blossom.

  But the contact brought more than those soft feelings. There was a flash of pain and a wash of cold—and someone reaching… reaching. Sparrow jerked away.

  “What’s happening?” Elliot asked, immediately at her side.