Her tension loosened somewhat. She smiled. “Only after you saved mine.”
His lips twisted into something that resembled a smile but lacked the happiness.
“How’s your shoulder?” she pressed on, nodding down at the heavy bandages. Veronyka had some bruises and scrapes along her face and neck but was otherwise unharmed from the attack.
He shrugged—then grimaced, the movement no doubt causing a spear of agony to rip through his wound. “I’ll live.”
“Good. That’s good,” she said, nodding. Glancing over her shoulder, Veronyka settled more comfortably next to him. “I was hoping I could ask you about Ilithya.”
He was clearly surprised by the question, but his frown quickly shifted from confusion to regret. “I . . . I didn’t know her for very long,” he admitted, a slight waver in his voice. “And I don’t know much about who she was before all this.”
Veronyka shook her head, feeling her heart reaching, grasping at every word like a thirsty plant in newly watered soil. “That’s okay. Tell me what you did know. What was she like?”
He rubbed a hand along the back of his neck, considering. “She was bossy. Brutal at times. She had a sharp tongue and a quick wit. She told the best stories. And she was kind, too, though I think she tried hard not to show it.”
Veronyka found herself smiling. Most of this she already knew, and it erased any lingering doubt she might have had as to whether they were talking about the same Ilithya. It felt good to know that the woman from her memories wasn’t some fiction, like Val had been. She was real.
“How did you know her?” Sev asked, drawing Veronyka back to the present.
“She, well . . . she was my grandmother.”
Sev sat up straighter. “You’re Veronyka, aren’t you?”
Veronyka darted a terrified look around. Luckily, Sev was fairly isolated, and most of the people who were awake were the healers and helpers tending the more gravely wounded in the other hall. Nobody had heard him.
“Did she talk about me?” Veronyka whispered.
“No,” he said, somewhat apologetically, “but she said your name in her sleep. Always yours . . . no one else’s.”
Veronyka wasn’t sure what to make of that information. On the one hand, it was validating, proof that her grandmother hadn’t forgotten about her, that the love they’d shared was real and lasting. On the other, it reminded her of all the lost time they could have spent together.
Veronyka forced herself to smile. She was grateful to him and glad that, for whatever reason, their lives had intersected in so many ways.
“Where did you find them?” she asked, nodding toward the satchel on the floor next to him. The sight of the eggs would have sent her heart bursting from her chest a few days ago, and though Xephyra had returned and so much had changed, they were still desperately important. In the face of the recent attack, the growth and development of new Riders seemed paramount.
“I didn’t. It was Kade who—one of the other bondservants,” he said, practically choking the words out. “He and Ilithya found them and kept them concealed throughout the journey.”
They must have come from somewhere in the empire. Could there be more? Could the empire hold the key to the Phoenix Riders’ survival, right in front of them but still out of reach?
“When it looked like they weren’t going to make it,” Sev continued, clearing his tight throat, “I delivered them instead. I never thought to ask where they came from, but if I had, Ilithya probably wouldn’t have told me. She loved her secrets.”
Veronyka huffed. “Secrets,” she muttered. She’d had enough of them to last a lifetime. Val, Ilithya, even Veronyka’s own identity was a tangled mess that felt impossible to unravel.
A full, wide grin split Sev’s face. It changed him, turned him from a beat-down soldier back into a boy. “That’s the thing with secrets,” he said, the words sounding like a bit of repeated wisdom and not something he’d come up with on his own. “They never really die. Just when one bursts into flames, another rises up to take its place.”
“Unless you break the cycle,” Veronyka whispered.
Sev tilted his head, considering her. “Or you ride them to the bitter end.”
Day 2, Eighth Moon, 170 AE
My dearest Avalkyra,
They say you plan to fly in force on the capital. Please, sweet sister, do not turn our home into a battleground.
We must speak again before this war makes corpses of us all.
I know I am no longer welcome in Pyra, and make no mistake, your army is not welcome here.
But you could come, Avalkyra. Alone.
I will wait atop Genya’s Tower every day after nightfall. Please come.
I have so much to say.
All my love, Pheronia
I was frightened at first, but I knew I must not fear the flames. I am the flames.
- CHAPTER 43 -
SEV
VERONYKA’S VISIT LEFT SEV in a dark mood. Darker mood. It hadn’t been sunshine and rainbows inside the infirmary, fighting through pain, ebbing in and out of consciousness, and listening to the wails of the dying and the unhappily living.
Sure, it had been nice to see her again, and it was good to know that she had survived this mess. It had also been good to talk about Trix, but with thoughts of her came thoughts of Kade. And no matter how he tried to see the positive, the fact of the matter was, he’d lost them both far too soon.
In the first few hours after Sev had arrived inside the infirmary, the terrible truth of all that had happened closing in, a bleak part of him hoped that Veronyka’s sister was here as well—the one who’d stolen his knife—and that she would make good on the promise she’d made outside her cabin. There was a moment, as he lay on his pallet half asleep, that he swore he did see her, but Sev had been tired and heavily drugged. There’d been no sign of her since, so it looked like Sev would just have to go on living.
The healer woman had said he was lucky the quarrel didn’t strike bone, and that chronic pain and limited movement were better than a shattered, useless limb.
The guard being treated next to him said he was lucky it was only his arm and not his chest, for surely a wound to the lungs or heart would have ended his life.
Lucky.
Sev couldn’t help but think Teyke was playing a cruel joke on him. So much luck, and yet he didn’t feel lucky at all.
They didn’t understand. It wasn’t the wound that made Sev slump on his pillows and stare absently into space. If anything, he saw it as a badge of honor. He had earned the pain and the scars; they were a part of him now and marked him as a survivor. No, it was the people he’d lost that left him feeling broken and hollow inside.
Trix was dead. Kade was surely dead as well. Sev had no idea what had happened to Junior, who was far too young to die, and the sheepherders Tilla and Corem. He hadn’t let himself think much about them until he’d arrived here, his message delivered and his task complete. Now, with every breath, a vast space of unfeeling emptiness opened wider and wider in his chest. Or was it so much feeling that Sev didn’t know what to do with it, or how to identify the sensation? He had gone from nothing to everything to nothing again, but things were different now. He was different.
He couldn’t go back to not caring and not seeing, back to the way his life had been before.
Sev wanted, needed, to keep fighting.
The question was, how?
He could take one of the eggs he’d carried, join the Riders, and leave all the deceptions behind. Become a heroic warrior, like his parents. But something about that didn’t quite sit right. In truth, he couldn’t picture it. He wasn’t a hero, much as he’d wanted to be. He wasn’t much of a warrior, either. Kade was those things, and it had cost him his life. Sev wasn’t even a strong animage.
He was something else. Trix had said Sev was just like her, and Trix was a spy.
Could Sev pick up where Trix had left off? Kade had called him her worthy successor, a
nd Sev had scoffed at the idea. Maybe, years from now, he might be skilled and accomplished enough to agree. But they hadn’t had years, and now Trix was gone.
And yet even Sev’s small lies had been useful, hadn’t they? He thought of his exchange with Veronyka: Yes, he could deny the secrets and deceptions that had made up his life and break the cycle, or he could see them to the end—whatever end that might be.
His position as a soldier had been key in Trix’s plans, and Trix had spent much of her own life within the enemy’s walls. If Sev claimed that false identity, if he made the choice to pretend for a reason—not out of fear or cowardice—well, then it became something else entirely. Something powerful. A real choice, not some misfortune thrust upon him. A weapon to be wielded.
The war wasn’t over. The Riders had survived this attack, but he knew there would be other battles to fight. Their survival meant more to Sev now than just the continued existence of the order his parents had served, some scrap of his past he could cling to. No, their survival was intertwined now with his present, with Trix and Kade, and their very recent sacrifices. If the Riders fell, then everyone Sev had ever cared about would have died in vain. He couldn’t let that happen.
Instead of running from his past, Sev could finish what he’d started—what he, Trix, and Kade had failed to complete.
He could pick up the threads of the life he’d never wanted and continue playing Trix’s little game.
That afternoon Sev was escorted to the commander’s chambers. He had asked for the meeting, but he was nervous all the same.
He carried the satchel of phoenix eggs with him, grimacing as the weight pulled against his injured shoulder, but he refused to let anyone else touch his valuable burden. He felt possessive over it, especially considering all he’d lost to get it here and knowing how much it had meant to Kade. Also, judging by the stares and reactions it got, Sev had a feeling the eggs were his one and only bargaining chip, should he need it. He couldn’t imagine why the commander might turn down his offer, but it was better to be prepared.
Inside the opulently decorated building, Sev took a seat at a long wooden table opposite the man they called Commander Cassian. The door closed behind him, and they were alone.
The commander was elegant and impressive—everything that Captain Belden tried to be but failed at. He was tall and imposing where Belden was short and weak, calm and dignified where Belden was impatient and snide, and the finery of his clothes and quarters looked like it belonged there, with him in it, not ill fitting and piled about a tent pitched in the wilderness.
Sev didn’t know why, but something about the man put him at ease. He was no cutthroat or schemer. What he was, he wore plainly, for all to see. Not a sheep in lion’s clothing, as Belden had been, but a lion in lion’s clothing.
A dangerous man, but an honest one too.
Sev could work with that.
“I must formally thank you, soldier,” the commander said, his voice booming with authority, “for your bravery and your courage. You saved dozens of civilian lives, not to mention the future of the Phoenix Riders, and—”
“Pardon me, Commander,” Sev said, cutting him off. He had to admire the man’s self-control—only the barest flicker of his eyes indicated his annoyance at being interrupted. “But I didn’t come here for that. I don’t need your thanks or your praise. I’m one of the lucky ones,” he said, still hating the phrase but knowing it was true all the same. “There were others who died so that I might deliver my message and my burden.”
Sev realized the list of people who had died for him stretched back to his mother and father. Their sacrifice had put Sev in the position to be able to save the Phoenix Riders more than a decade later, helped along by Trix and Kade.
The commander glanced down to the satchel at Sev’s feet. He looked up again. “What, then, did you come here for, soldier?”
Sev swallowed. Now that he was here, getting the words out of his throat felt like dragging his feet through mud. “I want to go back.”
The commander’s face hardened. “You want to return to your post serving the empire?”
“No. I want to return to the empire, but I want the master I serve to be you.”
The commander leaned forward, tilting his head. “You want to be a spy?”
“Did you know Ilithya Shadowheart?” Sev asked.
Commander Cassian settled back in his chair before responding. “Not well, no. The name ‘Shadowheart’ is actually a position of sorts—a title. Spies like her operated in such a way that few knew their true names or their true purpose. Morra, however, was well-acquainted with her and thinks most highly of the woman. I understand she is one of the unlucky ones of whom you spoke.”
“She taught me . . . ,” Sev began, his throat constricting. “She showed me the value of . . . of someone like me.”
We’re not popular, people like us. Too many deceptions, too many whispered secrets and mysterious missions. But we’re useful.
“I’m a lousy animage,” he continued, his voice growing stronger, “and a worse soldier. But I’m made for work like hers. So yes, I want to be a spy. Surely you have need for one, given what’s just happened.”
The commander bristled slightly, as if Sev were criticizing his operation. “The problem with spies, soldier, is that information goes both ways.”
Sev thought of the boy from the courtyard—Elliot, they’d called him, the informant Trix had spoken about.
“Then you don’t have anything to fear from me. I know nothing of this place”—Sev waved his good hand—“or how you run it. At least, nothing that the rest of the survivors won’t know and report as soon as they make it back. Some must have escaped your sweeps.”
The commander’s brows descended into a frown. “We have only yours and Elliot’s rough estimations at how many the empire sent here, so yes, most likely there were survivors.”
“Then I’ll return with them and pick up where I left off—as an ani-mage hiding in the empire’s military. I’ve even got a wound to show for my participation in the battle. No doubt Lord Rolan will want to speak with me.”
Before Sev finished speaking, the commander sat bolt upright, his hands gripping the armrests of his chair. “You report to Lord Rolan specifically? Not the Council of Governors?”
Sev was taken aback by his reaction—the man had been so serene and measured up until now. Apparently this was something Elliot hadn’t known or hadn’t yet revealed. “Yes, sir. Well, I reported to Captain Belden, who was my commanding officer, and he reported to Lord Rolan. I trained in his Aura Nova compound. When the mission was announced, Captain Belden called it a special assignment for Lord Rolan. He made no mention of the council.”
The empire had a standing army of thousands of soldiers, but they were spread throughout the valley. And each answered to a different governor who acted as general for the troops stationed in their province. They deployed them however they saw fit—to keep the peace in busy cities, to patrol their borders, or to travel with them as they spent time in the capital or toured the provinces. When there was war, their orders came from the king or queen, or in this case, the Council of Governors. Without a monarch who had final say over the council’s decisions, every move they made had to be decided upon by a majority vote. Sev often heard people on the streets of Aura Nova lamenting the fact that the council couldn’t agree on when to take a piss, never mind the larger issues that affected the empire.
“So, this attack wasn’t sanctioned by the entire council . . . ,” the commander mused. “I may be able to use that.”
Sev hadn’t considered the ramifications of this information. If Lord Rolan had done this without approval—and failed—well, the council might decide to punish him when word reached them of this unprovoked attack on a Pyraean settlement. Phoenix Riders might be illegal in the empire, but its laws didn’t reach into Pyra any longer. It had no authority in the Freelands.
“Why would he do it alone?” Sev wondered aloud. �
�Why risk it? What are the Phoenix Riders to him?”
He didn’t really expect the commander to answer him, but after several silent moments, he spoke. “Beyond a way to gain fame and notoriety?” he mused, rubbing his chin. “Lord Rolan received his position as governor of Ferro when I was exiled. When he learned from Elliot that I was behind the resurgence of the Phoenix Riders . . . I think the task of destroying us would have had all the more appeal to him. He and I have a past that stretches back decades.”
Sev felt suddenly out of his depth. These were the empire’s highest politicians, with endless wealth and resources at their disposal. What could he possibly do on his own?
“What we’d need is proof . . . evidence that shows Lord Rolan’s hand in all this. Without it, he will simply deny involvement and claim Captain Belden and the rest of these soldiers went rogue. But with it, we might be able to turn the council against him and gain some kind of leverage.”
Sev nodded, thinking about the captain’s messenger pigeons. Trix said she hadn’t been able to find any letters to Elliot during their time traveling Pyrmont. That meant any communication they had was likely back in Aura Nova. But still, would Belden’s correspondence implicate Rolan, or was the man wise enough to cover his tracks?
“I’ll try my best, Commander. The bondservants notice far more than they let on, and Ilithya had plenty of contacts. I think I may be able to get their help.”
“Remember, soldier—they cannot know I sent you or that we have even spoken. If they suspect you . . .”
“They’ll kill me,” Sev said simply. “I have no valuable information I can reveal. It’s my life I risk, and nothing else.”
The commander nodded, unable to deny the truth in that. Sev wasn’t trying to be cavalier or pretend that he was eager to risk his life. His shoulder throbbed. The truth was, sometimes surviving was the hard work, and if he could face that, he could face anything.
“Sir,” Sev began hesitantly, after several moments of silence. “She—Ilithya—she said something to me, before she died. Something . . . odd.”
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