Crown of Feathers

by Nicki Pau Preto

  SEV

  FOR SEV’S PART IN the llama’s death, he was given a week of latrine duty. The disparity in the punishments between him and Kade was enough to ensure that whatever anger Kade held toward him before his botched escape, it would now be tenfold. Word had also traveled along the convoy, blaming Sev for the delay and the extra-hard afternoon’s march, and so curses and mutters followed him wherever he went, coming from servants and soldiers alike.

  One benefit of marching until midnight was that Trix didn’t confront him until the following evening.

  Sev was hunched over and sweating as he dug the latrine, the activity a convenient outlet for his pent-up frustration. The steady thump and scrape of the shovel hitting the packed earth drowned out all his thoughts. It was almost peaceful.

  “Drop that shovel this instant before I club you over the head with it.”

  Sev grimaced. He’d known this moment would come, but he’d been dreading it all the same. Slowly he turned to find Trix standing behind him, eyes sparking dangerously. Kade was there as well, looming like a wide, intimidating shadow.

  “I . . . ,” Sev began, but he didn’t have any words lined up.

  “The shovel,” Trix barked. “Or maybe I’ll drive it straight up your backside instead.”

  Sev released his grip on the spade, which fell into the dirt with a thud. The latrine was mostly finished anyway.

  “Good. Now walk.”

  Sev had the uncomfortable feeling that he was being marched to the edges of the campsite so that he could be killed quickly and silently. He assured himself that was ridiculous, but with every step he took, Trix’s rage seemed to grow, filling the air around them with the crackling intensity of a coming storm.

  “Look, Trix, I—”

  “No, you don’t get to talk,” she snapped, coming to a halt at last and turning to face him. Sev had never seen her upset before. She was always sarcastic and dark humored, but never truly angry or out of control. “For once you’ll listen. Never have I encountered such a ridiculous, stubborn, thick-skulled—”

  “Enough,” Kade interrupted, and both Sev and Trix whipped their heads around in shock.

  Sev couldn’t help but gape: Kade was standing up for him—and against Trix? He was almost giddy with gratitude.

  Kade looked between them, from the astounded expression on Sev’s face to Trix’s similar wide-eyed stare. He cleared his throat. “He came back, didn’t he?”

  Trix shook her head, as if trying to dispel a cloud of mosquitoes. She turned to Sev again; while her voice was quieter, her temper had not yet subsided. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? You almost ruined everything.”

  “Of course I don’t!” Sev said, his tone bordering on shrill. They stood in a dense copse of trees, the heavy branches muffling the sounds of their conversation. Still, he cleared his throat as he added quietly, “You don’t tell me anything.”

  “I wonder why,” Trix sneered. “You’ve had a foot out the door the whole time.”

  “The only reason my foot is in the door at all is because you blackmailed me, you sneaky, conniving witch.”

  Silence.

  Sev worried he’d gone too far, that Trix might decide to do away with him after all.

  Instead she burst into raucous, cackling laughter.

  Sev allowed himself a small, cautious smile—and was shocked to see Kade returning it.

  “I hoped you might have a backbone in there somewhere . . . ,” Trix murmured, wiping at the tears of mirth that wet her eyes. Then she became severe once more. “But what you did was beyond foolish. Didn’t I already catch you trying a ridiculous escape once before? Did you really think you could slip through my grasp so easily, never mind the empire’s?”

  Sev clenched his fists, but he didn’t argue with her.

  “Well . . .” She sighed, the rest of her anger seemingly spent. “You were right, of course.”

  Sev frowned—he was right about something?

  She crooked him a regretful grin. “It was a mistake to get you involved, to try to coerce loyalty out of you. I thought you might want to fight for our people, like your parents did, but I accept that I was wrong.”

  “My parents . . . ,” Sev repeated, all humor gone from him. “What do you know about my parents?”

  She stepped forward, the dappled moonlight filtering through the trees playing across her wrinkled face. “I know more than you could possibly imagine, Sevro, son of Alys and Sevono.”

  Their names, unspoken for so long, echoed inside Sev’s head.

  “How?” he asked, his throat tight. “How do you know who my parents were?”

  “It’s been my business to know things for a very long time, boy. I had reason to keep tabs on loyal servants of Avalkyra Ashfire and the animage cause, even in the years after the war. Your parents were the final line of defense in the Foothills, and though they did not bear a noble name or boast a great Phoenix Rider lineage, they earned a title of their own, after their deaths. Among the Hillsbridge survivors, they were toasted as Alys and Sevono Lastlight. When their glorious flames were extinguished that day, many saw it as the true end of the Phoenix Riders. And yet even in their dying moments, they saved lives. Three hundred and sixty-seven by my count, including hundreds of animages and their families. A snuffed candle will cast light until its last breath—and so too did your parents.”

  “Stop,” Sev choked out, unable to bear it anymore. “Just stop it.”

  “It troubles you, to hear tell of your family’s heroic deeds? I thought you’d died that day, as did most people, but then you turned up on Captain Belden’s roster. As I said, Sev is a unique name . . . and you look just like them, you know.”

  “Enough! I don’t—”

  “They are shining war heroes, and yet you skulk around as if they shame you.”

  “I shame them,” Sev gasped, his heart hammering so painfully that he thought his chest might explode. “They died because of me.”

  Trix was silent at last, but Sev could feel her stare as he gathered himself, breath shuddering into his lungs. He couldn’t bear to look at Kade, to endure his judgment, so he stared at the ground when he spoke.

  “We had time to escape! They told me to run if anything ever happened, and . . . I saw the soldiers coming and thought I could reach the drawbridge in time. But I didn’t get there fast enough, and they had to come and save me. They died because I wanted to be a hero like them.”

  “They died so you could live, Sevro,” Trix said, not unkindly. “It was a most precious gift. Now it’s up to you what you wish to do with it.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not like them.”

  “No,” Trix agreed. “You are something else.”

  Sev looked up. He’d had the exact same thought about himself, but Trix didn’t say the words with derision or disdain. She said them with admiration.

  “I’ve been watching you for weeks, you know. Long before our little arrangement and long before you started watching me.”

  “Because of my parents?” Sev asked.

  “Because information is power—but you know that, don’t you, boy?”

  “What do you mean?” Sev asked, unnerved by the cunning glint in her eye.

  “What did I tell you? I’ve been watching you, Sevro, and I know you’re a hoarder of information—just like me. You know every soldier’s name and where he likes to sleep. Every night before bed, you wander the campsite with your bedroll as if looking for a perfect spot—but you never look at the ground; you look at the soldiers’ faces. You’ve been studying the work roster, too, lingering just a few minutes longer than necessary every time you check your assignment, so you know where people will be and when. Smart stuff . . . subtle stuff. That’s what I was interested in.”

  Both Trix and Kade were staring at him, and heat crept up Sev’s face. It was true; he did collect information, often as a means of feeling comfortable in a new place. It had also helped keep Sev alive, from his time in the orphanage to hi
s years on the streets, and now, as a soldier.

  Though it seemed she meant the words as praise, something in her tone felt dismissive—regretful—and Sev didn’t know what that meant.

  “Was?” he repeated after picking through her words. “You’re not interested anymore?”

  Trix tilted her head at him. “I tire of trying to convince you, Sevro. Go on, back to your old life. Sign up for vanguard or rear guard or Captain Belden’s personal footstool for all I care. Your debt to me is paid.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” Sev argued.

  “Technically speaking, you undid months of careful planning. Thanks to yesterday’s antics, we’ll have to regroup. Still, I no longer require your services.”

  “Thya,” Kade whispered under his breath, casting a glance at Sev. “The packs. There’s no way anyone else will be able to memorize them in time.”

  “Memorize the packs?” Sev asked. Trix had started moving again, and Sev followed close behind. “You mean the soldiers’ personal packs?”

  While most soldiers didn’t have much by way of possessions, each had their own pack that they stocked with food, water, liquor, and personal items—endless talismans for luck, love, or swift journeys, plus letters from family back home. The soldiers had to be ready at a moment’s notice to go on patrols, take watch duty during the evening meal, or go on scouting missions, and whenever they did, their personal packs went with them. When they weren’t in use, they were stored with the rest of the supplies and carried by the llamas.

  “Yes,” Trix said over her shoulder, still striding away from him. Sev tried to listen as she spoke in an undertone to Kade. “We could focus on the water supply, though there’s still the question of who will. . . .”

  As their voices dropped out of earshot, Sev slowed his pace. His limbs were tingling, his breath oddly shallow. After the events of the previous day, he’d been expecting a variety of grim outcomes, one of which ended with Trix choking the life from him while he slept. But this? To have her release him from their agreement just like that? He should be relieved. He’d no longer have to face Kade every day or try to unravel Trix’s complicated motivations.

  It would be like none of this had happened, and Sev could walk away unscathed . . . at least, for now. What was that she’d said about the water supply?

  Then it hit him. “You’re gonna poison them,” he called to Trix’s retreating back.

  She turned, gaze flicking to Kade before settling on Sev. “Am I?” she asked mildly. “But I’m in charge of the messenger pigeons. How would I manage something like that?”

  “He was gonna do it,” Sev said, taking a step toward them and pointing at Kade. “Only now he can’t, thanks to me. And the personal packs . . .” Sev paused, his mind picking through all that had been said and all he’d gleaned on his own. “You don’t want to spoil all the supplies—you’ll need some, when all this is over—so you wanted me to help identify them. Help keep track of which bags belong to which soldiers.”

  That still didn’t explain everything. Whose packs would they choose to poison? Did Trix have other allies among the soldiers? And what of Captain Belden? All his possessions were kept separate from the rest of the regiment.

  “This is no longer your concern, soldier,” Trix said. “Remember? Don’t worry. I don’t forget my friends, and we are friends, aren’t we, boy? I’ll ensure you make your escape when the time comes, and you won’t be one of my targets—but you’d best stay out of my way.”

  Trix made to walk away, but Sev grabbed her arm. “If the soldiers get sick all of a sudden, who d’you think will take the blame? Those who make their meals, those who handle the food supplies. You’ll be putting all the bondservants’ lives at risk.”

  “You’re right. If the soldiers get sick, we don’t stand a chance.”

  Sev stopped short, releasing her, and she continued to march on. After a stunned moment he caught up. “You mean to kill them all.”

  She turned back around to face him, her expression utterly remorseless when she said, “Dead men tell no tales—and point no fingers.”

  “But you work with the messenger pigeons, like you said. Why not send a message to the Riders right now and avoid—”

  “Avoid what, boy? Death? What do you think would happen if the Riders knew there were empire soldiers making straight for them? Whether it’s us dealing it or them, there will be bloodshed on this mountain, make no mistake. As for the messenger pigeons,” she continued, her acid tone turning to one of worn frustration, “don’t think it didn’t cross my mind. But these are no proper messenger pigeons. They’ve been ‘simpled’—trained in a very specific way for a very specific purpose. They can travel only to and from the same starting and end points within the same range, no deviations, no longer distances. They can’t break loose and follow unique orders. Too much magical influence.”

  “And the wild animals have too little,” Kade added, his voice subdued. “It requires a good amount of training for an effective message carrier. Wild animals would only obey an animage’s orders for as long as their magic remained connected to them. . . . Eventually they’d become distracted or lose focus.”

  “I had a pair of real messenger birds during the war,” Trix said, her tone wistful. “They could fly from Aura Nova into Pyra in two days. Nefyra and Callysta, I called them. What I wouldn’t give for another pair such as them.”

  “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” Kade asked Sev, after several moments of silence. There was no aggression in Kade’s tone, just curiosity.

  “What is?” Sev asked, mind still on Trix’s plans.

  “A way out of this arrangement,” he said. Though Sev could hardly see in the darkness, there was something like disappointment in Kade’s crossed arms and downcast face. “Now you have it.”

  “You’re free of us,” added Trix. She smiled, patted him on the arm, and left, Kade following soon after.

  Yes, this was what Sev wanted. He wanted to get away from the war and everything it stood for. But as he watched Kade’s and Trix’s retreating backs, he realized that he didn’t want to get away from them.

  You’re free of us.

  The words rang in Sev’s mind, but it was one word in particular that he couldn’t shake. Us.

  It was powerful, loaded with meaning. “Us” was about community and commonality—animages, bondservants, allies, friends. Sev hadn’t had an “us” in a very long time. When he was young, he’d belonged to his family. That was the last time he’d truly felt a part of anything. Now he was a soldier, but he’d never fit in. And before that he’d been one of dozens of orphans, always coming and going from the shelters. There was no friendship in that life, and it was the same on the streets, each of them out for themselves, scraping and clawing to survive.

  Sev had thought being alone made him stronger, gave him fewer vulnerabilities.

  But there was strength in “us,” power in the unity of brother and sister. This was what his parents had fought for. Not for themselves, not to be heroes . . . They’d fought for animages.

  They fought for us.

  Was Sev going to sit back and be a soldier, complacent among his enemies, or was he going to stand and fight with his people?

  “Wait.”

  Kade and Trix stopped, though they didn’t turn around.

  “I’ll do it.”

  At that, Trix looked over her shoulder and grinned.

  But victory does not come without consequences.

  - CHAPTER 21 -

  VERONYKA

  THEY TRAINED HARD OVER the following days. Tristan had his own motivation to want to succeed, and Veronyka knew she helped him and herself by pushing him as hard as she could. If he could prove to his father that he was ready to lead a patrol, it would get her one step closer to possibly being an apprentice. Of course, even if Tristan and the older apprentices were promoted, there was no guarantee Veronyka would be chosen as one of the recruits—or that she could convince someone to sponsor her.
>
  One thing at a time.

  As each day passed, Tristan’s skills grew stronger. He’d begun to trust her advice, and the animals trusted him in turn. Veronyka’s attempts at distraction were almost fruitless, so she moved on to quizzing him the way the commander had about what Rex saw from above.

  “How many steps on the stairs that lead up from the way station?” Veronyka asked, struggling to find new questions after he’d answered several already.

  “Two hundred and twenty-one,” Tristan said instantly, clearly not conferring with his phoenix before answering. “I’ve counted them. Try asking me something I don’t already know,” he said with a theatrical yawn.

  “How many lanterns line the—”

  “Forty-five.”

  Veronyka scowled. Tristan’s laugh echoed to her from across the course.

  “Fine,” she said, looking around, trying to find something to stump him. Seeing an extra quiver on the ground, she slid the arrows out and whirled around, hands behind her back. “How many arrows am I holding?”

  Tristan rolled his eyes and looked over at her, spotting the empty quiver. “Fifteen. I know how many extra arrows I brought with me.”

  Overhead, Rex released a sharp caw. Tristan frowned, then looked more closely at her.

  “Wrong,” Veronyka said with a wide grin, but of course Tristan already knew that, thanks to Rex. “You’re not doing the exercise properly. Tell me what Rex said.”

  “Sixteen,” Tristan said, “But I only brought fifteen per quiver, and the rest are—ah, the target.” He looked over her shoulder, where the target lay bare. Veronyka had removed the arrow he’d imbedded earlier, which had come from the quiver he wore on his back. “All right, you’ve made your point. I shouldn’t assume.”

  “Or get cocky when you get a few right,” she said, walking toward him and waving an arrow in his face. “Come on, let’s go again.”

  During the next run-through, Tristan announced that he wanted to do the full exercise—including the fiery finish.

  Veronyka didn’t think anything of it, certain he’d have no trouble pulling it off after performing so well up until now, but as he progressed through the course, she sensed a definite tension in him growing with every step Wind took.