Crown of Feathers

by Nicki Pau Preto

  Veronyka stared at her sister. Val looked the same as she always did: tall and beautiful, head held high—no matter the tattered clothes she wore—and always that distant, unfeeling facade on her face.

  “How did you find me?” Veronyka demanded. “What do you want?”

  “Who’s the boy?” Val asked, nodding back toward the stronghold.

  “Nobody,” Veronyka said sharply.

  Val laughed, the light, tinkling sound raising the hair on Veronyka’s arms. “Oh, come now, little sister. You can lock your feelings up all you want, but you cannot hide them from me.”

  Or have you forgotten?

  Veronyka lurched back, hastily reinforcing her mental walls, seeking out the gaps in the stones. She’d gotten lazy in her time away from her sister, not constantly on her guard as she’d had to be all her life. Now the barrier felt flimsy, as if cracks and crevices had appeared in the time she’d stopped tending the wall so diligently.

  “You still haven’t told me what you want or why you’re here.”

  Val shrugged dismissively. “I came back for you,” she said at last.

  Came back? That didn’t even make sense. Was Val delusional enough to think that she was here for Veronyka’s sake? That Veronyka needed her help?

  “We’re family,” Val added, her voice stripped of her usual scorn. “I would go anywhere, do anything, for you. Surely you know that.”

  Yes, Veronyka did know that. Val would do anything—she was a person without limits, it seemed, and so full of self-righteous conviction that she could justify any dangerous action or bizarre behavior—and that was an exhausting burden to bear.

  “And now you’re here,” Veronyka said. “What it is that you want?”

  Val crossed her arms stiffly, looking uncomfortable. A surprising thought occurred to Veronyka. Had Val come to apologize? Could it be that she regretted what she’d done and she wanted to make things right?

  “I know we didn’t part on the best of terms,” Val began, resting a hand on Veronyka’s shoulder. “But that’s in the past.”

  Nope, no apology. Veronyka jerked out of reach. “The best of terms?” she repeated, her voice shaky. The shock of seeing her sister, the resurfaced memories of hurt and betrayal . . . they were catching up with Veronyka, making her dizzy and light-headed.

  “You’re still angry with me, for culling your—”

  “Culling?” Veronyka choked, the word torn from her constricted throat. “She was my bondmate!”

  Val pressed her lips together, her nostrils flaring. Then she took a slow, measured breath, as if Veronyka were an irrational child throwing a tantrum and Val were searching for patience. Veronyka glanced around, knowing she shouldn’t have shouted, but no one was nearby. Voices and laughter could be heard from the field beyond the gate, where everyone gathered, but the village itself was quiet. She had to keep her temper under control. . . . She had to keep Val under control.

  “We don’t have time for this, Veronyka. I need you by my side. We’re stronger, better, together.”

  The words grated. How could Val even think that? Over the past few weeks Veronyka had seen what real friendship was—how two people could work together and help each other, and that wasn’t what her relationship with Val had ever been, or would ever be.

  “With me you can be yourself,” Val continued, gaze roving Veronyka’s face. “You’ve cut your braids and forgotten yourself, posing as—what? Some peasant boy-child?”

  “I am myself; I haven’t forgotten anything. And there’s nothing wrong with dressing like a boy,” Veronyka said, fighting for composure. “Queen Malka did it. She bound her breasts and kept her braids short.”

  Val rolled her eyes, but before she could reply, Veronyka added, “And I’m not just a peasant; I’m a stablehand.”

  “A stablehand? You abandoned me, your only family in the world, so you could live a lie as a no-name servant?”

  “So what?” Veronyka asked, her voice rising again. “There are worse things than serving those you respect, than paying your dues until . . .”

  “Until what, xe Nyka? You think I don’t know, that I didn’t ask around, didn’t pry into heads and hearts and figure it out the moment I stepped foot in this sorry excuse for a Rider outpost? No female Riders and only a dozen masters—half barely out of childhood and the rest wrinkled, old men? They have no eggs, and no eggs means no phoenixes and no future.”

  Veronyka shook, unnerved that Val had gleaned so much so quickly. “I wouldn’t need to be here, waiting for a phoenix egg, if you hadn’t killed my bondmate.”

  Val’s hands clenched and unclenched, her face twisting with anger. She turned abruptly away, as if she wanted to punch something, but after a deep breath, the rigid line of her back loosened. She looked over her shoulder. “If that were different—if things were different . . .”

  “If things were different, I’d be a Phoenix Rider.” Veronyka’s rage was shifting, twisting and swirling, spreading like wings inside her chest. Xephyra’s face flashed in her mind, and Veronyka pushed the dark feelings away before they engulfed her. “But I’m not.”

  “Hey, Nyk—is everything okay?”

  Veronyka spun around to see Tristan standing a few feet away, approaching them hesitantly. How much had he heard? His expression seemed mild enough, if a bit concerned—their tense body language made it obvious that Veronyka and her sister were arguing.

  “Everything is fine,” Veronyka said, hating that he was here, within her sister’s eyeline. “This is my sister, Val. And, Val, this is Tristan, one of the apprentices.”

  Tristan nodded, frowning slightly as he considered them. Veronyka knew they looked nothing alike, and she could only hope Val never crossed paths with Beryk or Elliot.

  Val was looking at Tristan, too, no doubt measuring his worth and deciding what way he could best be used to her advantage.

  “Why do you not allow females to train as Riders?” Val demanded without preamble.

  Veronyka squeezed her eyes shut, stifling a groan.

  “Well,” Tristan began, gaze flicking to Veronyka as if wondering how much she’d told her sister. “We didn’t have a lot of eggs, in the beginning. So we had to be, uh, selective.”

  Val tilted her head, and Veronyka could sense the magic spill from her, almost see the way she poked and prodded into Tristan’s mind. Veronyka felt sick being witness to the violation and even worse that she didn’t know how to stop it. “But you do have female phoenixes, don’t you . . . ?” Val whispered, almost to herself, distracted as she searched his thoughts.

  “In the breeding enclosure,” Tristan said.

  “Breeding enclosure?” Val repeated, her voice dangerously flat.

  “Can we have some time alone?” Veronyka blurted as Val’s eyes sparked with anger.

  Tristan nodded, looking slightly hurt at the quick dismissal. She wished she could tell him it was for his own good, that she was protecting him, but all she could do was smile encouragingly.

  “Nice to meet you,” he said to Val, and turned around, hands in pockets as he strode back up the street and toward the stronghold. Veronyka felt even worse knowing that she’d kept him from the rest of his friends only to abandon him now in the middle of the festivities.

  Val’s breath was heavy when she spoke, her face twisted with indignation. “Females imprisoned. You’d better watch yourself here, xe Nyka. If they find out you’re a girl, you might wind up in a cage next. How they dare, when Ignix herself might be among them.”

  Though most famous phoenixes had their deaths noted in the history books, no such record existed for Ignix. It was part of why phoenixes were always treated as sacred beings—there was no way of knowing for sure just who they had been, or how long they had lived.

  “I doubt they’ve captured and caged the first phoenix in existence, Val,” Veronyka said, her voice weary. She hated the breeding enclosure too, but Val’s dark paranoia knew no bounds. “Surely Ignix would come forward and make herself kno
wn.”

  Val’s voice was oddly hushed as she replied. “Maybe she is afraid. Maybe the world has changed too much.” Seeing Veronyka’s confused expression, she cleared her throat and shrugged. “Or perhaps she’s not here at all. It’s the principle. One does not cage or breed a phoenix, any more than one would cage or breed a queen.”

  Distantly the bell rang for the feast, evening slowly descending around them like an ink stain on paper.

  Crowds of people headed in their direction from outside the village, laughing and singing as they made their way through the growing twilight toward the dining hall.

  “Why do you stay here, xe Nyka?” Val asked, when the last villagers disappeared around the corner. She was fighting to keep the disgust and disappointment from her voice—and failing. “You’ve seen for yourself how they treat females. You will get breasts eventually,” she said unkindly, eyeing Veronyka’s bound chest, which was relatively flat with or without the extra fabric. “You can’t be Nyk forever, and then what? You think they will accept you and release the phoenixes from their cages? You think they will give you—a girl and a liar—one of their precious eggs? Even you can’t be so foolish as that.”

  Veronyka didn’t answer, but her eyes flicked back to the stronghold, where Tristan was no doubt seated with everyone else, enjoying food, drink, and entertainment.

  Val understood at once. “You think he will save you? He’s just an apprentice.”

  “He’s the commander’s son and practically a patrol leader already. He’ll be the one running this place one day, and he said he’ll do whatever he can to help me be a Rider.”

  “But he’s promised to help Nyk, the poor, helpless stableboy, not Veronyka—the girl who has lied to him from the start.”

  Veronyka’s chest felt tight. “I’m not lying about who I am,” she said, even as she knew it wasn’t technically true. She wasn’t faking her personality, but then again, she also wasn’t showing Tristan her whole self—gender aside. He didn’t know she was a shadowmage, after all, or that she’d already had—and lost—a bondmate. “Besides, he’s not like the commander. He hates the breeding cages and the fact that they don’t let girls and poor kids become Riders. He’s different.”

  “Are you so blinded by your feelings for him that you can’t see how ridiculous this is? He’ll inherit from the commander in ten or fifteen years—if you’re lucky. Are you willing to wait that long? And just because he dislikes a thing doesn’t mean he can change it. He’ll still have to answer to the other Riders—who will have loyalties and agendas of their own. These aren’t our people.”

  “Nobody is, according to you,” Veronyka snapped. “You hate the empire, and now you hate Riders, too. . . . Who are our people, Val?”

  “You’re my people, Veronyka, and I am yours.”

  The words echoed between them. Veronyka didn’t know what to say. Val was all she had, her only family. And before she’d come here, Val was the only person in the world who would have cared—or noticed—if she’d lived or died.

  Veronyka hoped that now there might be at least one more.

  “I have a gift for you,” Val said.

  Veronyka quailed at the thought. The last gift Val had given her had been a phoenix egg.

  “I don’t want it,” Veronyka said, taking a step back from her. Whatever it was, Veronyka would not, could not take it. Even if Val had found another pair of eggs, did she really want a repeat of what had happened last time? She didn’t think she could survive it.

  “Just come with me, Veronyka,” Val said confidently, cajolingly, as if it were the easiest thing in the world. All she had to do was follow—but Veronyka was done being led around by her sister.

  “I’m not going anywhere with you. I’m happy here. I want to stay.”

  “I’m asking you—please,” Val said, lips pursed, as if the word were bitter on her tongue. Then her tone changed, becoming breathless, almost panicky. “It must be now, Veronyka—we don’t have time to waste.”

  “No,” Veronyka said, frowning at the urgency in her sister’s voice.

  The sound of music burst suddenly from the stronghold, rising above the din and floating into the air to mix with the muffled conversations and laughter that filled the night.

  “You would stay here, putting your faith in these men who would see you humbled and subjugated, rather than leave with me? Why?”

  “You know why,” Veronyka said, her voice shaking with barely controlled fury. How dare Val act sad and hurt when Veronyka was the victim here? “I did have faith in you—and you betrayed it.”

  “But we could become Riders on our own terms—not theirs,” Val said, her eyes bright and glittering. “No rules, no waiting. Just you and me.”

  “There would be rules, Val—your rules. And even if we succeeded, then what? Live on the outskirts forever? Shun other Riders because they aren’t us? We’ve been doing that all our lives, and I hate it. I want to be a part of something, Val. . . . I want to be a part of the Riders, not a Rider all on my own.”

  “You wouldn’t be alone,” Val said quietly. “You’d have me.” Her hard features had gone soft, her fiery voice hesitant. Vulnerable.

  Her pretense at frailty, at weakness, only made Veronyka angrier. “We tried that, remember?” Veronyka asked in a strangled voice. “We tried to go it alone, and look what happened! You gave me what I wanted only to tear it away from me again just to prove that you could. Just to be in control. So tell me again, why did you come here? Are you going to kill Tristan or the commander? Are you here to take it all away again?”

  “I came here to give you—”

  “I don’t want it—I don’t want anything from you!”

  Veronyka turned away and ran for the stronghold. She couldn’t stand being around her sister any longer. Her mind was racing, and her heart was a skittering, lurching thing inside her chest. She needed to get away from Val, away from everything.

  When she stepped through the stronghold gates, Veronyka was shocked to see Tristan standing there, just outside the double doors to the entrance hall, as if he was waiting for her.

  “Nyk,” he began, unhitching himself from the wall and stepping toward her. Then, seeing the look on her face, he paused. “What’s wrong?”

  Before Veronyka could answer, scraping footsteps sounded behind her, and she knew that Val had followed. Tristan’s eyes narrowed at her sister, and there was something hard and protective in his expression. Veronyka longed to give in to it, to trust in someone else’s care and not fear it, as she had to with Val.

  “Are you coming to the feast?” Tristan asked, looking between them as he came to stand next to Veronyka.

  Val started talking, but Veronyka didn’t hear it. The world around her went silent as she was hit with a powerful wave of emotion—emotion that was not her own. She staggered, trying to sort through her own feelings and those assaulting her.

  Fear, rage, and confusion—she thought they belonged to Val at first, or maybe Tristan, but when she turned to face them both, she knew the sensations didn’t come from either of them. Veronyka whirled, staring into the dark corners of the courtyard. The feelings were familiar somehow, and when she reached out with her magic, a wild, savage screech filled the night.

  Shouts echoed from the guards along the walls, who were pointing up at the sky. A flaming phoenix soared above, circling the stronghold in wide, erratic arcs, flying ever lower. Someone tugged Veronyka’s arm, trying to pull her back, but she resisted it.

  The phoenix’s flight was dizzying—or maybe that was the swirl of emotions still spinning inside her. There was a pulse of intense heat, and then the phoenix landed on the cobblestones, mere feet in front of Veronyka. A powerful wave of its wings, and sparks danced across the ground.

  The phoenix was juvenile, near the size of most of the apprenctice mounts, except its scarlet plumage was edged in deep purple that shimmered in the torchlight. Tracks of flame shone like lava between its feathers, and its eyes, black holes l
imned with fire, latched on to Veronyka’s and held her gaze.

  A gasp escaped her lips, and she dropped to her knees.

  Xephyra.

  Day 11, Fifth Moon, 170 AE

  Princess Pheronia and the Council of Governors,

  I, Avalkyra Ashfire, the Feather-Crowned Queen and rightful ruler of the Golden Empire, hereby officially claim my throne.

  It grieves me that I have been deemed a criminal and a traitor, when I have always acted for the good of my family, and of course, for the good of the empire.

  I will be in Aura Nova one week hence, in order to discuss the terms of my ascension. You are welcome to negotiate your position in my new regime—but be warned, I have the might of Pyra, Ferro, and the Phoenix Riders behind me.

  —Queen Avalkyra Ashfire

  P.S. Happy eighteenth birthday, Princess.

  But one must be cautious who they bond themselves to. Once fastened, those ties do not easily come undone.

  - CHAPTER 29 -

  VERONYKA

  VERONYKA KNEW IT, FELT it, even as her eyes refused to believe it. Her mental safe house burst open, flooding her mind with memories, and in them, Xephyra was still small enough to carry. The creature before her now was almost the size of a pony, her claws sharp and her wingspan as wide as the cabin she’d be born in.

  Reborn in. Xephyra had come back. Somehow Veronyka had managed it. Somehow that cold pile of ash had turned into her phoenix once more. No matter how much she’d grown in their time apart, there was no mistaking the bond between them. The instant their eyes met, it had sparked back to life, like fresh tinder on the smoldering embers of a banked fire. The connection crackled between them, shock and recognition setting Veronyka’s very soul ablaze.

  Xephyra was on fire too—there were great billowing waves of it, rippling over her scarlet feathers, so hot they burned bright, blisteringly blue. But these weren’t the flames of happiness, of a phoenix and Rider rejoined. . . . They were the flames of danger.