When they called both Elliot and Riella to the meeting room, it appeared Elliot thought he was in some kind of trouble.
“Where’s Riella?” Veronyka asked as he entered alone and closed the door behind him.
“It’s not her fault,” Elliot said, which made no sense to Veronyka—but apparently, he wasn’t talking to her. His eyes were fixed on Beryk as he continued. “And it’s not Sparrow’s, either. It was all my idea, so if you want to punish someone, it should be me.”
Beryk sighed. “We’re on the brink of war, lad. Now is not the time to fret over such things.”
Elliot shook his head. His body language was tense and bracing, his face downcast, though he held Beryk’s gaze. “I disobeyed your orders and abandoned my duties. I had good reason—and I succeeded in rescuing Sparrow and Ignix—but that’s no excuse.”
Now Veronyka understood. “I gave him permission,” she interjected before Beryk could reply, and Elliot shot her a surprised but grateful look. “I told him which passages to check, and—”
“Enough,” Beryk said, holding up a hand to silence her. He gave her an apologetic look afterward, clearly unsure where he ranked when it came to her, but she could offer no real insight in that regard. He turned to Elliot. “You did the right thing, and I’m glad you disobeyed me.” Elliot’s mouth fell open, and Beryk smiled in mild exasperation. “You weren’t grounded after the attack on the Eyrie for trying to help your sister or for disobeying my orders. You were punished because you acted foolishly and put all of us in danger. As far as I can tell, what you’ve done now is the exact opposite. You deserve to be commended, not rebuked.”
“Thank you, sir,” Elliot said, speaking to his feet. “For that, and for everything you’ve done for me since. If there’s anything I can do…”
“Funny you mention it,” Beryk said, tossing a smile at Veronyka. “There is.”
Elliot was, at first, vehemently against the idea. After they summoned Riella, she helped to convince him.
“It would be good to see Dad again, wouldn’t it?” she asked hopefully.
Elliot’s mouth was a flat line. “Is Ignix coming?”
Veronyka’s heart sped up. If she was to become apex, Ignix would have to be there to bow her head and show her allegiance. In front of everyone. “Yes.”
“And Sparrow? I won’t come unless she does.”
If Riella’s presence was a dangerous risk, Sparrow’s was downright reckless. “Sparrow has no reason to be there and would be safer—”
“The thing is,” Elliot cut in, “I can’t leave her again.” He lowered his voice. “I made a promise, and I know it might not seem like that means anything to me given what I’ve done in the past”—he swallowed—“but I need it to mean something.”
“Elliot, I…”
“And,” he pressed doggedly, “I don’t expect Ignix will agree to come without her either.”
Veronyka sighed.
The truth was, nowhere was safe at the moment. Those who couldn’t fight—the wounded like Anders, plus stable hands and kitchen helpers and everyone else who wasn’t a bonded animage—were set to relocate to the nearest underground caverns along the Sekveia. There wouldn’t be enough Riders left to properly guard Prosperity, plus many of its defensive advantages—like rounded towers and crenellated walls—were negated by the fact that their enemy could fly too. If Val did decide to send her strixes there, they’d find it abandoned and would hopefully move on. She couldn’t very well check every tunnel and cavern across Pyrmont, and with scouts posted, their people would have a chance to flee.
And so Veronyka agreed with Elliot’s request, and his face lit with intense relief. They both wanted Sparrow to be safe, and she was glad that Elliot had made it his personal mission since Veronyka herself had so many other things on her mind. The people in her life were starting to take care of each other, and it was a wonderful thing.
She had enough to worry about.
Despite their strange, shared dream the previous night, Val had been unreachable all day. It might be the poison still flooding her veins, or perhaps it was the apex magic making it easier for Val to protect herself. Whatever it was, Veronyka made sure to stay on high alert and kept her belt stocked with poison darts, just in case.
While the group that would attempt to negotiate with the empire consisted of Veronyka, Tristan, and Beryk, accompanied by Elliot, Riella, Ignix, and Sparrow, the rest of the Riders in their flock would remain nearby. There was no telling how the day would go, and they couldn’t afford to be separated.
The other members of Tristan’s patrol would station themselves to the north to keep a watch for Val, while Fallon’s patrol held a perimeter to the west. Cassian’s patrol, supplemented by Alexiya and Doriyan, who had arrived from Arboria, would position themselves to the east. If things went badly, Elliot would take Anders’s place on Tristan’s patrol, and Beryk would return to Cassian’s. The apprentice Riders who were old enough to fight but had yet to graduate and join a patrol were currently helping with the evacuation of Prosperity, but they numbered only five, and Veronyka and the others were hesitant to involve them unless absolutely necessary. This wasn’t like the attack on the Eyrie, when the choice was fight or die. Even if everyone else was killed, they could live in the caverns indefinitely and remain in hiding. Their orders were to protect the evacuees, and Veronyka took comfort in the idea that whatever happened, some Phoenix Riders would survive what was to come.
For a moment she thought of Haven, of Jonny and Rosalind and the rest. She thought of her father and grandmother.
Had they received Alexiya’s letter? And if they had… would they come? She had hoped they might get word before they departed, and fought against a pang of disappointment when they didn’t.
Veronyka could understand why they might not come. They had safety in their isolation. Once they left, there’d be no going back to that quiet, peaceful existence. If they didn’t come, that meant more Phoenix Riders would survive this… even if it lessened the odds that Veronyka and those on either side of her would be among them.
Even if that survival was contingent upon hiding and living in secret.
She couldn’t shake the memory of the way she’d parted with her father, the request he’d made and the accusation she’d thrown at him. He’d asked her to stay, and while remaining behind and out of the fight was never possible for Veronyka, she prayed he might decide to join her instead.
As they left Prosperity to meet the empire’s march, Veronyka turned in the saddle and stared—she’d never seen so many Phoenix Riders together at once, flying off to battle. Saddles creaked, feathers rustled, and wingbeats filled the air.
Her senses buzzed with their collective presence, and she couldn’t help thinking what it might be like to be their apex—their chosen leader. How much more formidable would they be if they were magically united in the face of all the danger that approached them? How many more of them would survive if Veronyka had the courage to claim that position and that power?
When they drew nearer the empire’s location, Veronyka and the meeting party separated from the main force, leaving their reinforcements to take cover and await orders. Alexiya had already volunteered herself to be Veronyka’s contact through shadow magic, and even that small showing of trust and faith bolstered Veronyka for what was to come. Through her aunt, they could respond to whatever the empire sent their way.
Though she’d heard the numbers and read the reports, it was still a shock to see the army unfold before them: line upon line of soldiers standing ten across along the road, the occasional wagon or wheeled catapult dispersed among them. They were five hundred strong, according to the commander, and this was only a fraction of their military. Veronyka’s mouth went dry.
The soldiers had already passed Runnet, which was visible to the west, and the Riders’ forward scouts claimed they’d left the village untouched. As a border town, it was frequented by empire citizens and considered sympathetic to the imperia
l cause. It was no place for animages in hiding or Phoenix Riders.
Instead, the soldiers had pushed on, coming to a halt before them in a portion of the road carved through sheer rock on one side and dense forest growth on the other. The trees obscured the view of the river, though Veronyka could hear it as they descended, the silence of the soldiers’ camp taut as a bowstring.
She didn’t like it. It was a terrible place to stop: They were essentially fish in a barrel in the tight quarters of the road, practically begging Val to descend upon them from the sky. But they didn’t have the time or position to demand that the empire march onward or fall back.
Like the messenger they’d sent ahead, Veronyka’s party bore a white flag, ensuring the empire understood this was a peace offering, not an attack. In the middle ground between the soldiers and the approaching Phoenix Riders, a tent was being erected. No doubt they would have paper and ink inside ready for the Phoenix Riders to sign their formal surrender.
They would be disappointed in that regard.
Veronyka’s party landed in the open space before the tent, the Riders dismounting.
Veronyka had barely climbed down from Xephyra’s saddle when she sensed something was amiss. Her head snapped in the direction of the forest, where barely a second later, twenty soldiers armed with loaded crossbows stepped out of the trees. Their weapons were pointed at the Riders and their mounts as they moved to encircle the newcomers.
It looked like the “negotiations” were off to a bad start.
Veronyka glanced at Tristan, whose face was a storm cloud, rage pouring off him in waves. Beryk looked resigned, his hands held up, and Elliot pushed Riella behind him, wedging her between him and his phoenix. Sparrow remained in the saddle, but Ignix was as still as a statue, her gaze alert.
Veronyka turned her attention back to the tent, where a man appeared in the open flap.
His face was in shadow, but surely this was General Rast. Apparently he did not intend to welcome their arrival, nor to heed the terms set forward by the white flag of peace.
Veronyka’s breath quickened. They did not have time for this.
Anger burned low in her gut. They had come to warn the empire, to ally with them… to help.
And now?
They might have to fight their way out of here.
We fought because our mothers fought.
We were made in their image.
- CHAPTER 51 - VERONYKA
VERONYKA’S HANDS CLENCHED INTO fists at her sides, and next to her, Xephyra bristled, sparks dancing along her feathers. She fought the urge to lash out with words or actions and did her best to quell the same instinct in Xephyra.
Then she reached wide, skimming over the hundreds of minds nearby, human and animal, until she found Alexiya.
We have a problem. Prepare yourselves.
“Welcome,” boomed the general as he strolled out into the late-afternoon sun. He was a large man with a heavy jaw, barrel chest, and thick, meaty hands. With his shoulder-length russet hair and wide-set eyes, he put Veronyka in mind of a prideful lion—but one that had gone slightly to seed. He had a smug self-importance about him that told her he had gotten overly comfortable in his position and his success. That it had been too long since he’d had to fight for every scrap.
Too long since he’d been challenged.
“This is how you welcome representatives bearing a flag of peace?” Tristan asked scathingly.
“This is how I welcome threats. I am General Rast, here on behalf of the Golden Empire. Inside this tent you will find the documents of your surrender already drawn up. You need only sign them, and this will be finished.” He turned toward one of the soldiers. “Take their weapons.”
“You will not,” Veronyka snapped. Xephyra punctuated the response with a fierce shriek. The soldier who had moved to follow his general’s orders halted midstep.
“You hardly need them, if you indeed come in peace.”
“We came in peace,” Tristan corrected. He gestured at the ranks of crossbowmen. “You have not greeted us in kind.”
At that moment, another man stepped out of the tent, flanked by additional soldiers. While the surrounding figures were clearly captains or commanders—soldiers of rank and importance—the man in the middle was dressed as a nobleman, with soft leather boots and a fine velvet coat. Despite his attire, he looked pale and drawn, his eyes raking restlessly over their group.
“I told you to remain—” the general began, but then Riella surged forward.
“Dad!” she said, but Elliot gripped her hard and pulled her back between him and his bondmate. The crossbows on either side followed their every move.
So this was William of Stel. He looked too old to have children as young as Elliot and Riella, his face lined and his hair gray, but perhaps the trials of the last few months had aged him beyond his years. “These are my children, Rast,” he choked out. He drew himself up and squared his shoulders, facing down the general. “Tell your soldiers to lower their weapons and let them through.”
“Your children will be fine—well, your daughter, at any rate. As I understand, she is innocent in all this. As for your son…” He tilted his head, considering Elliot in his Phoenix Rider leathers. “First he must surrender, along with the rest of his kind.”
Tristan’s jaw clenched. “We did not come here to surrender.”
“We came to propose an alliance,” Veronyka said, before the general could get the wrong idea. “The coming war does not begin and end with us.”
“I beg your pardon? I do believe the war started with you—your attacks on Ferro and Arboria North, not to mention the assault on the Grand Council meeting.”
“The former attacks were orchestrated by a dirty empire politician and the latter by renegade Riders that have absolutely nothing to do with us and our flock.”
“Ah, yes, the ‘dirty empire politician’ who was shot dead outside the Grand Council meeting—the same meeting that was attacked by a Phoenix Rider—and can no longer speak in his defense,” General Rast replied, laughter in his voice. “A perfect scapegoat.”
“He’s not the only person who could speak to his guilt,” Beryk rushed to say, looking to Elliot’s father.
He nodded, chin held high. “As I have explained several times, Lord Rolan used blackmail and other forms of coercion to ensure I allowed his soldiers to move in and out of Pyra unchecked. He took my daughter as hostage, not to mention—”
“And as I explained to you, William, it is rather hard to prove your claims when you have no evidence.”
“You have my word and the word of my daughter,” William said, voice stiff in affront. He might have looked beat down and emotionally exhausted, but he had power within the empire and expected to be treated with more respect. But this was wartime, and apparently, the general’s opinion mattered most—Veronyka could see it in the way the other commanders looked to him for his every comment and response. Her tentative hope that William’s position and the presence of his children could help quickly deflated.
“Your animage sympathies are well documented, and it serves you and your family”—he nodded at Elliot—“to speak in favor of the Phoenix Riders. If you had notified someone of your alleged predicament while it was happening, we could have investigated. But as it stands…” He shrugged regretfully, though the gesture looked utterly insincere. “I have an empire to protect. However,” he continued, turning back to the Riders, “if you were to surrender, I may be able to argue for lighter sentences, as well as—”
“Whether we surrender or not, a war will be fought here,” Veronyka said, her patience evaporating. “We told you, those attacks did not come from us. We have a common enemy, and our chances improve if we face them together.”
“A common enemy—these so-called renegade Riders?”
Tristan hesitated. “Not exactly.”
This was the part of their negotiations Veronyka had feared—the point she’d been certain would lose them. But given how thing
s had turned out… they couldn’t lose what they didn’t have.
“I’m sure you’ve heard the legends,” she began carefully, “no matter how hard you’ve tried to erase them from the empire’s memory. Sun and Moon. Axura and Nox. Phoenixes and strixes.”
“Strixes?” scoffed the general. “Supposedly evil shadowbirds no one has seen or heard of in a millennium? Is this truly your strategy, using nonsense and superstition to win wars?”
“They are real,” Veronyka said, her voice cold and cutting. Wind whipped through their gathered group, causing the tent to flutter and snap, and something in her demeanor actually caused the smile to slip from the general’s face. “I have seen them.”
“You,” he said flatly, looking wholly unimpressed. “And who exactly are you?” From his perspective, she was just some Pyraean girl. He was wrong.
They had tried to come in peace, to come with facts and logic and reason. But for some people, that would never be enough. Like Val, who was hell-bent on destruction, so too were politicians like Lord Rolan—and generals like Rast—determined to win, as if the world, the empire, were some prize. As if the right to rule belonged to the victor, even when the game was rigged.
But for Veronyka, the empire wasn’t the prize—peace was.
And if the crown wasn’t the final payoff, then it became a means to an end: a way to keep people like General Rast in line and a way to keep people like Val from destroying them all.
When Veronyka looked at it like that, it was positively easy to say what came next.
“I am Veronyka Ashfire, daughter of Pheronia Ashfire and heir to the Golden Empire.”
She said it loudly, the words reaching the leaders in front of the tent, the soldiers who stood in a semicircle around them, and even farther, to those who stood behind the tent, out of range for most of their conversation, but not for this.
Tristan’s head jerked in her direction. Her coming forward wasn’t part of the plan—at least not right here, right now, after failed negotiations in the middle of what was about to become a battleground.
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