Eventually she left, but she was not the only mourner paying tribute at those dead flames. Sparrow stood behind her, jaw set and face wet with tears. It was not her first pyre—not her first loss—but this time she had Elliot by her side and a familiar raven on her shoulder. She was okay.
They were all okay.
Or at least they would be, once Veronyka was through.
* * *
They gathered before the night was out, friends and family and Phoenix Riders, ready to see Veronyka off. She had business in the capital.
Tristan hesitated beside Rex, a question in his gaze. Do you want me here to handle things?
Veronyka shook her head. “I want you by my side,” she said aloud. “Always.”
He smiled, dimpled and brilliant, and Veronyka had no choice but to tug him down by the front of his tunic and cover his smile with a kiss.
His arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her clean off the ground, and sounds of surprise and laughter—even a few catcalls—broke the silence.
When at last they released each other, Tristan grinned down at her, cheeks flushed and eyes bright.
Veronyka didn’t know if she would actually be queen—there was work left to do—but wherever she wound up, whatever she did, Tristan would always be her king.
* * *
Climbing into Xephyra’s saddle again felt like coming home. Veronyka rested her head against her bondmate’s neck, marveling at her bravery, her courage, her fiery heart.
I could not have done it without you, Veronyka told her. And I would not want to.
For once, it seemed, Xephyra was without words. She crooned softly in her throat, sending up a cloud of sparks, and Veronyka watched them soar into the sky.
* * *
Dawn was breaking as the Phoenix Riders flew into Aura Nova, Veronyka at the head of the flock. They arranged themselves in a queensflight—an honor guard formation from the Reign of Queens, with banners flying and her best Riders ranged behind her. Fourteen total, including Tristan and his patrol members, Alexiya and Doriyan, Sev and Kade, and the rest of the flock trailing behind.
They made straight for the Nest.
As they flew over the battlefield, across the river with its hastily repaired bridge and the ranks and ranks of soldiers sprawled across the landscape, hundreds of necks craned toward the sky.
But no weapons lifted; no shouts rang out in fear or alarm.
They simply watched a piece of history come back to life, the world changed and made new. Some even waved or nodded their heads in greeting or respect.
Veronyka glanced at Tristan, surprised and humbled, and he laughed in delight.
Word had reached the Grand Council already of the battle and Veronyka’s trial by fire, and as they landed in the courtyard out front—not a side door as they had before—the members were there to greet them. They bowed respectfully and moved aside, and there was Commander Cassian, or maybe he was just Cassian now, looking tired and weak and leaning heavily on a cane. Veronyka felt a pang for having ruined his finely carved phoenix-headed one.
Tristan rushed forward and embraced him. He had told Veronyka about Maximian’s sacrifice, and Veronyka felt a rush of pity and compassion for the man. Xephyra sidled up to her, and Veronyka stroked her feathers.
As Tristan stepped aside, Cassian spotted Veronyka. He bowed—or tried to, given his physical state—but Veronyka stopped him with a hand on his arm. She met his cool brown eyes, soft and sad in a way she completely understood, and hugged him too. He seemed startled by this, but the rest of the Grand Council took note. The man was exiled no longer.
To Veronyka’s surprise, Cassian had managed to get his hands on Lord Rolan’s documents proving her birth. He said they had a rogue empire soldier to thank, and Veronyka whirled around to see Sev standing at the edge of the group. He shrugged nonchalantly, a baby phoenix in his breast pocket, and next to him, Kade winked.
Their footsteps echoed as they entered the vast room, which was filled to the brim with people—the Grand Council members, plus assistants and secretaries and people off the street, Veronyka suspected, until the guards started shoving civilians out the doors and slamming them shut.
Despite the commotion, Veronyka’s gaze never left the high-backed chair that sat where the judge’s podium had been during her last visit.
It was golden, intricate, and finely wrought, weaved in patterns of feathers and fire. The backrest was a spread-winged phoenix, and its eyes were inlaid with jewels.
She did not take it.
Instead, she stood atop the dais and waited.
The room—more than a hundred people—watched her, the silence broken by rustling fabric and scraping feet. There was evidence here and there of Sidra’s attack—scorched walls and missing furniture, and a new judge stood next to her to start the proceedings. Veronyka cast a glance at Tristan, seated in the front of the crowd, and he beamed at her with pride and admiration.
There was a shifting above, and Veronyka stared up into the rafters, where all the Rider phoenixes perched, making the members of the council slightly uneasy. Xephyra was next to Rex, and their feelings matched Tristan’s.
Veronyka was given the floor at last, and she addressed the waiting group.
“As I’m sure you’ve all heard, my name is Veronyka Ashfire—daughter of Pheronia Ashfire. I am here today after a hard-fought battle against a horde of creatures from legend, led by a rebel queen straight out of history.” She paused, her throat tight. “Both were defeated, but we could not have done it alone. We did it together, and I would see the Phoenix Riders and the Golden Empire on the same side forevermore.”
Applause greeted her words. Some enthusiastic, some measured—but it died down quickly. Everyone, it seemed, was waiting for what would come next.
“As you know, thanks to the diligent research of Lord Rolan of Stel, I am not yet of age. Therefore, I am not yet able to be crowned queen. I will be eighteen on the anniversary of the Blood War next year.”
Some council members glanced at one another—relieved, she thought, and already planning their next moves.
“Until then,” Veronyka continued, “I wish to be formally recognized as heir to the throne and given all the responsibilities and privileges that come with it—including, unless I am mistaken, a seat on the council?”
The conversations that had been happening quickly died out, while other members sat straighter in their chairs, listening intently. The judge nodded in answer to her question, but Veronyka was well versed on her rights, thanks to Cassian and the hours they had spent poring over books inside his library at the Eyrie.
“I believe it is also within my rights to add and remove council members—with just cause, of course.” She glanced at the judge, and once again, she nodded. The whispers and murmurs picked up, a note of anxiety in them that had not been there before. “And to call meetings and put forward motions; to suggest new laws and changes to existing ones?”
The judge didn’t bother nodding this time, because it was clear Veronyka knew what she was about.
The council members were in a right state now. Some huffing and puffing and muttering loudly enough for her to hear, while others smiled and leaned back, enjoying the show. More than a few whispered into Cassian’s ear, begging for insight, but he only shrugged mildly, giving her a grin.
“Wonderful,” Veronyka said, finally taking the golden seat. “Let’s begin.”
* * *
It was a busy few weeks.
First she had to be officially recognized as an Ashfire heir, and the records had her listed with her two new epithets, Flameheart and the Fire-Crowned Queen.
Next, she reinstated Cassian as the governor of Ferro, and appointed him acting general. He knew how to deal with funds for the wounded, repairs to the bridge and the road—and other important cleanup and restoration efforts.
On Cassian’s advice, Veronyka dismissed Lord Rolan’s remaining supporters, finding among the papers that held her proof of
identity all the evidence she would need to implicate them in his shady dealings and backdoor bargains. The fact that they were the same people who had sentenced Olanna to die made their dismissal—as well as the forthcoming criminal charges—all the more satisfying. There was also General Rast’s trial, which was extremely well-attended. It appeared he had made more enemies than Veronyka realized, even beyond the families he’d blackmailed into supporting him for nearly two decades. The verdict was swift—life imprisonment—and the start of a long process of undoing the damage he’d done to his captive animages and their families.
After that she put forward the appropriate motions to abolish the magetax and the registry and see that every bondservant across the empire was freed. Those serving for violent crimes or because of involvement in the Blood War would undergo new trials. The rest would be given paid work and restitution for their years in bondage.
The council’s Minister of Coin nearly had an apoplexy at that, but Veronyka was ready for his objections—and provided an estimation of the ex-General Rast’s net worth, which had been accumulated through bribery and coercion and therefore stripped as a part of his guilty sentence. Rather than absorb the funds into the royal coffers—as she was within her rights to do—she offered them toward the animage effort instead and expressed her confidence that the council could find whatever additional money they might require.
Every law against phoenixes and Phoenix Riders was also struck down, making them full citizens of the empire once more. With the heir to the throne an animage Phoenix Rider, they didn’t have much of a choice.
Given the attitudes of the Rushlean farmers and their Unnamed militia, Veronyka suggested that the citizens of Pyra should vote on whether or not they wished to rejoin the empire, under its new laws and with its new Pyraean Phoenix Rider heir.
It had been a close decision, but after announcing the motion and polling the inhabitants, the people of Pyra had decided to rejoin the empire. Veronyka knew there would be more work to do, first in rebuilding Pyra into the thriving province it had once been, but also in keeping an eye on any remaining members of the Unnamed who might try to revolt once again.
After many of the council’s more toxic members had already been removed and their replacements—heavily vetted by Cassian—were voted in, including a new governor of Pyra, Veronyka created several additional positions to represent animages and their interests, including seats for Phoenix Riders.
This way, they could govern themselves and not be beholden to their king or queen—now or in the future. This meant that one of the seats belonged to Tristan as their new commander. It was up to him to appoint the others.
The council had expected many of her ordinances and handled them with varying levels of grace. There would be more to come, she was sure, but for now Veronyka felt like she could breathe.
She didn’t know what the next year would bring, if she would ever truly feel ready to take the crown and ascend the throne. But after struggling with it for what seemed like her entire life, Veronyka knew who she was—even without Val—and she wanted this opportunity. She wanted to be the one to fix things. She trusted herself to do what was right, and with positive changes happening every day, she felt like the empire was in good hands.
By embracing who she was, inside and out, she could make the world a better, safer place. She could protect the people she cared about—either in the sky on her phoenix, or in the capital on her throne.
It is the way of the phoenix.
- CHAPTER 71 - SEV
SEV WOKE EARLY INSIDE the apprentice barracks, luxuriating in his softly swaying hammock, nothing but the gentle sounds of sleep all around him.
He’d been dreaming about flying and came back to wakefulness with a smile on his lips—and a phoenix perched on his chest.
Felix croaked and Sev lurched, sending his bed swinging.
Mutters and curses broke out across the room, most of them resigned. Felix cocked his head, shameless at having disturbed their sleep. Again.
Ersken was going to kill him.
Felix was supposed to sleep inside the Eyrie with the other apprentice mounts, but he simply refused to follow the rules. No matter where Sev was or what he was doing—sitting late in the dining hall, laughing with Kade, Veronyka, and Tristan; doing his chores, like repairing armor and cleaning saddles; or even studying in the library and practicing his Pyraean language lessons—Felix found a way to him. The precocious phoenix even made an appearance when Sev was in the bathhouse once, resulting in several angry bathers, water everywhere, and Sev having to carry a sopping-wet—but extremely pleased with himself—Felix back down to Ersken while wearing nothing but a towel.
It had gotten so bad that Ersken had taken to locking Felix inside his office at night, but somehow, the enterprising phoenix had gotten free. Sev knew he should be mad, but every time he saw that smug face and those bright eyes, it was like the bond re-formed all over again.
Below him, Kade sighed. “He’s better at locks than you are.”
Sev poked his head over the edge of his bed, grinning. “Or he has better friends.”
Sev dressed and left the barracks with Kade, Felix riding proudly on his shoulder. He spotted Sparrow leaving the next building over with a phoenix of her own in tow.
Felix chirruped a greeting, and Sparrow’s phoenix, the resurrected Ignix, lifted her tiny head imperiously.
She, too, was supposed to remain inside the Eyrie each night, but thought herself above such rules. She always got out, and more often than not took Felix with her. While she rode on one of Sparrow’s shoulders, a glossy black raven rode on the other.
Sparrow grinned, walking over to Sev and Kade and reaching out a hand for Felix. Together, the three of them made for the Eyrie.
“She’s a bad influence on you, isn’t she?” Sparrow lamented, stroking Felix’s feathers.
Ignix croaked indignantly.
“It might be the other way around,” Sev said fairly, and Felix cocked his head.
The training yard was bright with early-morning sun when Sev arrived, the sound of construction echoing over the stronghold as the final repairs to the phoenix statue atop the temple were completed. Sev spotted Ivan there among the workers, perched on his phoenix, shouting instructions as they hoisted the newly painted and polished statue back on its plinth.
That night they would light the beacon again and gather for food and drink and celebration.
Though he still wasn’t very good at it, Sev practiced hard with blade and bow, Veronyka’s father, Theryn—the new weapons master—a patient teacher. He had Alexiya help with spear lessons, and while they fought as much as they taught, disagreeing on pretty much everything from style and technique to weapon upkeep and maintenance, Sev rather enjoyed the show.
Kade was in more advanced combat lessons, but Sev didn’t mind. He trained with Sparrow and Theo and Emma, and the many other new apprentices that had joined their flock—thanks to Veronyka’s trick with the heartfire and the extra eggs Avalkyra had brought to the Eyrie—becoming fully entrenched in a life he’d never dared imagine for himself.
And now that the war was over, Sev considered what his future might be.
Maybe he’d be a courier like Rosalind or a builder like Ivan. There were other positions, too, that Veronyka and Tristan were working hard to prepare for, including mapmakers, tourist guides, and even explorers—Sparrow’s whole face had shone with excitement and wonder when he’d told her about that one. There was even a position called recruiter, and Sev very much liked the idea of finding lost and lonely animages like himself and bringing them home.
At the end of the day, Kade was always waiting for him so they could walk to dinner together. The only time Sev could truly get Felix out of his hair was when Jinx offered the hatchling a ride on her back. The two disappeared into the Eyrie, streaking across the evening sky, their gold and violet feathers aflame in the setting sun.
Sev looked around, happy and safe and among friends.
He belonged here, with the Phoenix Riders. This was his home. “I want this forever,” he said quietly—it was still hard to wish sometimes, to dare to say his hopes out loud.
Kade smiled gently, amber eyes soft as he squeezed Sev’s hand. “I think you’ve got it.”
The weight of the world is easier to bear,
I think, with others by your side.
- CHAPTER 72 - ELLIOT
ELLIOT STOOD ALONE AT the bottom of the Eyrie.
The sun was setting in the sky above, and twilight already blanketed the lower levels.
He was staring at the tunnel where Sparrow and Ignix had been buried—collapsed no more, the last of the debris cleared away. There was still some damage to be repaired, but the passage was reopen at last.
It had been a massive job, getting the Eyrie up and running again. With Beryk gone—Elliot swallowed thickly—the newly instated Commander Tristan had named Elliot as his successor. Both of them were out of their depth, but he and Tristan were fumbling through as best they could.
While Tristan reestablished patrols, assigned leaders, and welcomed new apprentices, Elliot organized the construction crews, hired additional stronghold guards, and inventoried what remained of their supplies. He found housing and servants, purchased food stores and weapons, and restocked the Eyrie for the winter ahead.
He missed Beryk acutely, his every daily task a reminder of the kind and patient mentor he had been, but he tried to honor the man’s memory by putting all he’d learned from him into practice. To Elliot’s immense surprise, his father even helped. He knew a thing or two about staffing and had connections in the empire for some of their harder-to-replenish items. Now that trade was open between Pyra and the other provinces, Elliot could expand his suppliers and keep the Eyrie well equipped.
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