Crown of Feathers

by Nicki Pau Preto

  Sev hadn’t forgotten Trix’s final words to him, but he’d been so overwhelmed with grief and pain, and unsure of his next step, that he hadn’t had the clarity of mind to really examine them further. Until now.

  “And this was out of character for her?” he prompted.

  Sev almost wanted to laugh. “No, not really, but what she said was strange, even for her. She said that Avalkyra Ashfire lived.”

  The commander stared at him. “Well, that can’t be true. She died in the Blood War—there were witnesses. Ilithya was an old woman, and she served our queen faithfully all her life. Love can sometimes twist the mind and make facts out of fictions. Surely, if Avalkyra Ashfire were alive, she would be here with us.”

  The words made sense, and his steady, reassuring tone urged Sev to agree with him.

  But when Sev nodded, the commander glanced away, looking more unsettled by the idea than he’d let on. He had certainly been quick to dismiss it, and Sev supposed that he couldn’t blame the man for thinking a long-dead queen was in fact actually dead. He’d probably known Avalkyra—or at least met her—and being a Phoenix Rider, he must have supported her in the war.

  Then why did Sev get the impression that he didn’t want her to be back?

  The commander shifted in his seat, looking down at the bag next to Sev’s feet once more. “And what of this gift you’ve brought us?”

  Sev leaned down to open the top of the bag, revealing eleven smooth gray eggs. He frowned. Hadn’t there been twelve when Kade loaded this satchel? It had been so dark, maybe Sev had miscounted. Or worse, maybe one had fallen out on his journey. He shook his head. There was no helping that now.

  “The eggs are yours, all but one. You will keep it here for me as a sign of good faith—and as a guarantee of my loyalty.”

  “You don’t seem interested in becoming a Rider, soldier. . . . How does an egg guarantee you won’t turn your back on us when the situation suits you?”

  “I’m sure you can guess how much that egg would fetch on the Narrows Night Market—enough to set me up comfortably for the rest of my life. I’ll be back for it.”

  Sev spoke confidently, and the commander seemed to believe his words.

  Sev was a good liar.

  He would never sell the egg. Keeping it was like keeping hope alive. Hope that he might have somewhere to return to, some place he belonged. And if, when all was said and done, he decided he truly didn’t want to be a Rider—well, there might be someone else in his life who did.

  “Why do you want to go back there?” the commander asked. He seemed genuinely interested, not because of the mission or his concerns, but because he didn’t understand it.

  “I want to finish what I started. I never knew which side I was on before all this. Now I know.”

  I am a daughter of death. . . . From the ashes I rose, like a phoenix from the pyre.

  - CHAPTER 44 -

  VERONYKA

  AFTER HER CONVERSATION WITH Sev, Veronyka went back to the barracks, her heavy heart lightened somewhat. She’d barely crawled into her hammock—or so it seemed—when she was being shaken awake again.

  Her mind came sluggishly back to consciousness, and she opened her eyes to see Tristan standing over her. She sat bolt upright, knocking her head into his with a painful crack.

  “Damn it, Nyk,” Tristan said, rubbing his brow.

  “Sorry,” Veronyka hissed. Around them the barracks was quiet and deserted—clearly everyone was already up and working again.

  “What time is it?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.

  “It’s only just daybreak,” he said, dusty beams of pale sunlight slicing the air between them. She stretched, her sleeping shirt sliding down to reveal her shoulder. It was innocent enough, a bare scrap of flesh, and yet . . . Tristan stared fixedly at the small patch of brown skin, the attention making her whole body prickle with heat. He quickly forced his gaze away, which only made Veronyka more self-conscious.

  They hadn’t spoken since the battle, and as she looked at him, a fresh wave of hot shame washed over her. Despite everything Val had done, Veronyka couldn’t put all the blame on her sister’s shoulders. Veronyka had been the one to lie to Tristan, repeatedly, and she knew she owed him an explanation.

  “Tristan, I . . . ,” she began, turning stiffly to face him, her muscles aching with the memory of the attack. “I’m so sorry. I never should have lied to you.”

  His eyes were guarded as he considered her, and even his mind was more closed than usual. “Why did you do it?”

  Veronyka shrugged. “I wanted to be a Rider, and I knew the commander was only accepting boys. . . . I thought it was my best chance.”

  “I know why you pretended to be a boy,” Tristan said. “I just don’t know why you didn’t tell me. Maybe at the start, but all those times we were alone . . . training or just talking. I told you about my”—he waved a hand—“thing with fire. Didn’t you trust me?”

  Veronyka let out a shaky breath. This was the question she didn’t really know how to answer. “Of course I did,” she said, sitting forward. “I trust you more than anyone in the world,” she added in a whisper.

  His throat worked as he swallowed, and he looked down. She knew she needed to give him more—that he deserved more—but she struggled to find the right words.

  “It’s just that I’ve trusted before,” she continued slowly, “trusted with all my heart and soul, and . . . and . . .” Her voice wavered, but Tristan finished the thought for her.

  “And that person betrayed your trust.”

  They looked at each other, and Veronyka knew he understood her.

  “I thought about leaving when they put Xephyra in that cage. I was going to tell you before that, but I was afraid I’d be punished or sent away. Then after . . . I guess I thought the commander might value Xephyra as a broodmare over me as a Rider.”

  Tristan nodded, his expression pained, and she knew it hurt him that he couldn’t dismiss her concerns about his father.

  “And,” Veronyka continued, voicing the most personal reason of all for withholding the truth, “it was hard to face the possibility that you might hate me for lying to you, might lose whatever respect you had for me. . . .”

  “I could never hate you, Nyk—Veronyka,” he corrected hastily.

  “You can call me whatever you want,” she said softly. Something about it was intimate, suggestive, and she wasn’t sure if she’d meant it that way or not.

  His eyes widened before he looked away, red splotches creeping up his neck and the edge of his jaw. He bit the inside of his cheek, and Veronyka could swear he was fighting to keep a pleased smile off his face.

  “It doesn’t change anything for me, you know,” he said, still not looking at her. “Boy, girl—whatever. You’re you, and that’s all I care about.”

  Veronyka thought her heart might burst.

  “What was it your sister called you—xe Nyka?”

  The bubble of pleasure that had swelled up inside her quickly deflated. “Yes,” she said uneasily. She’d told Tristan he could call her anything, but she wasn’t sure she wanted him to call her that.

  “Something about her . . . She gives me the creeps,” he said, laughing awkwardly and rubbing the back of his neck.

  It’s her shadow magic, Veronyka thought miserably. The very same magic I have, the magic that has somehow bound us together. She would have to tell him about that, too, and soon, but not yet. She needed to learn more about it, for one, and for another . . . their relationship was on fragile ground right now. Veronyka wanted to wait for more stable footing.

  “Is she gone?” he asked, trying to keep the hopeful note from his voice—and failing.

  The question was an interesting one—yes, Val, her older sister, the one she’d grown up with, her last “family,” was gone. Forever, in fact. Now she had a dead rebel queen to contend with. “Yes, I think so.”

  “Good,” he said firmly. He glanced at her and gave an apologetic look. “I’m s
orry. Your sister . . . you’ll have to explain her to me sometime.”

  Veronyka snorted, though she wasn’t amused. Explain her sister? That prospect would have been hard enough a few days ago, but now? Veronyka didn’t even know if she and Val—or was it Avalkyra?—were actually related. “I’ll try,” she said. “I promise.”

  Tristan gave her a wry grin, and relief flooded her body. A group of servants walked past the window, their voices cutting through the quiet moment. Tristan straightened, seeming to remember that he’d woken her up for a reason.

  “The commander would like to see you,” he said, somewhat formally.

  Her head whipped in his direction. “Me? Why?”

  Tristan avoided her eyes. “You’ll see.”

  “Tristan tells me it was your idea to release the phoenixes.”

  They were back in the commander’s office, standing in front of his long carved table as he sat behind it. Veronyka shot an accusatory look in Tristan’s direction, and though his head was bowed, she could’ve sworn she saw a smile twisting his lips.

  “Y-yes, Commander.”

  “And was it also your suggestion to use the other animals, the horses and pigeons and the rest?”

  Veronyka nodded, her heart dropping into the pit of her stomach.

  The commander showed his teeth—a smile? “Then I have you to thank, not Tristan, for the success of our defenses. From what I’ve gathered from various reports, if it weren’t for their joint efforts, the stronghold would have been overrun—and if it weren’t for the female phoenixes in particular, the village gate would have fallen much sooner.”

  “Oh, um, you’re welcome,” she said, glancing at Tristan once more, who now smiled openly at her, his cheeks dimpled.

  “You know,” the commander said, his tone thoughtful, “in the glory days of the empire, it was the female phoenixes, not the males, who were renowned for their fighting prowess. Riders prayed for daughters over sons so they might have a legendary warrior in the family.”

  Veronyka glared at him. She was such a daughter, denied in favor of sons. But of course, Commander Cassian didn’t know that.

  She could take it no longer.

  “Sir, I-I have something I need to tell you.”

  Tristan widened his eyes at her and shook his head in warning. She ignored him.

  “Yes?” the commander said, looking between them with a frown on his face.

  “The new female, the one who helped us secure the village gate? She’s mine, sir—my bondmate.”

  “Your bondmate . . . ,” he said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his desk.

  Veronyka felt dizzy. She was going to tell him. She was going to willingly reveal her lies and betrayal to the man whose own son was afraid of him.

  “You see, I’m female too. My name’s not Nyk. It’s Veronyka.”

  The commander stared at her, his pale-brown eyes flat and unreadable as he picked through her words. Veronyka’s stomach roiled so badly, she thought she might be sick.

  “How can you be bonded with that phoenix when she’s been here such a short time and was too old to begin with?” He didn’t seem upset, simply curious—or maybe he was distracted from his anger by the conundrum of their bond.

  “We were bonded before I arrived, Commander,” she said faintly. “She—Xephyra, my bondmate—was killed, so I came here, hoping for another way to become a Rider. When I learned that you weren’t taking female apprentices, I thought pretending to be a boy was my only chance. I hoped that I could bond with a male, or with a new female, when the time came and be allowed to stay. But then she came back. . . . She was resurrected, and . . .”

  Veronyka was rambling now, the words pouring out in a torrent as the commander surveyed her with mild, detached interest. Tristan, who had been listening intently—even he didn’t know the full story—was tense beside her.

  “I’m sorry,” she finished in a whisper.

  The commander got to his feet, moving somewhat gingerly with unseen injuries, and came around to lean against the front of his table. He eyed Veronyka thoughtfully, scratching his chin with a heavily bandaged hand. From what she’d overheard after the battle, the empire had devoted another two hundred soldiers to the diversions. The patrols had been drawn into the villages, only to be ambushed by soldiers armed with metal nets, and the messenger pigeons sent by Tristan had been intercepted by animage bondservants in the empire’s employ. By the time the Riders realized they’d been fooled, hours had passed, and the stronghold was on the brink of collapse.

  He looked at Tristan, as if asking—or confirming—that his son already knew what Veronyka had just revealed. Tristan nodded curtly.

  “We can’t keep her bondmate imprisoned,” he said after his father continued to remain silent. “It’s not right. We should let her train to be a Rider. I’ll sponsor her.”

  The commander’s eyes widened at Tristan’s last few words. “You’re still an apprentice.”

  Tristan shrugged. “I won’t be for long—you said so yourself.”

  Veronyka pressed her lips together, willing them to stop trembling. This was it, the moment when the commander would decide her and Xephyra’s fate. She could scarcely breathe.

  “No. She cannot join the Riders,” the commander said, crossing his arms over his chest. Veronyka thought her heart had actually stopped beating, so still and silent was her body. “But he can.”

  Veronyka and Tristan shared a look of confusion.

  “He? You mean she can train as Nyk, not Veronyka?” Tristan asked.

  “I do,” the commander said with a nod.

  “I don’t understand,” Tristan said. “She’s bonded to a female phoenix. . . . How will we explain it to the others?”

  “Male-female Rider pairs are uncommon but not unheard of. There was a mixed pair in my old patrol in the empire, and there have been dozens of others throughout history. Wise Queen Malka rode Thrax, who was a male phoenix, and of course there were Callysta and Cirix. We will simply cite precedence.”

  Veronyka remained motionless, a weight settling on her chest. This was what she wanted, wasn’t it?

  “Why continue to lie?” Tristan pressed, glancing at Veronyka. “How long can she be expected to keep it up?”

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, Tristan, the Phoenix Riders have been dealt a rather severe blow. With Elliot’s deceit and that empire soldier bursting in here, there have been whispers of traitors and informants working for the empire. We are not infallible, but I must restore order and confidence in our operation here. I don’t want to give the others an excuse not to trust her. We must show strength and unity. To reveal that she has been lying all this time will do her—and us—more damage than good.”

  The words surprised Veronyka, who hadn’t considered the ramifications of her deception beyond what the commander might do to her. But he was right that their false sense of security had been shattered, and the last thing she wanted was to be the subject of suspicion and distrust. But wouldn’t it be better to face those reactions sooner rather than later? If they were angry with her now, how much angrier would they be after months—or maybe even years—had passed? And it wasn’t just her charade to maintain: Tristan, Cassian, Ersken—even Sev knew the truth. It wasn’t a question of if her lies would be exposed. It was a question of when.

  Veronyka stared at her feet. With every word the commander spoke, the pressure on her chest intensified. This wasn’t right. This was how it started: You did what others wanted, made concessions and compromises, over and over again, until you were nothing but what they wanted you to be. It had happened all her life with Val, but she wouldn’t let it happen here. She’d earned her place here—Veronyka had. This was who she was, and she would deny it no longer.

  The commander was looking at her expectantly—she could feel his gaze on the top of her head.

  She lifted her chin. “Thank you, Commander,” she said. He gave a gracious nod—until she added, “But I cannot accept the terms you o
ffer.”

  As soon as she said the words aloud, the burden on Veronyka’s chest eased, and she could breathe properly again.

  “Excuse me?” he said, so politely that Veronyka thought he might truly not have understood her. She looked at Tristan, and though his mouth flattened with worry, he nodded in encouragement.

  “I will stay here as Veronyka, or not at all. I understand that there will be questions and confusion, but I proved myself in that battle—Xephyra and I both did. We defended the gate. We fought alongside your villagers and your apprentices. I refuse to lie to these people any longer. They deserve better, and so do I.”

  It was cold, standing there in front of the commander, refusing the thing she’d wanted her entire life. Without the Phoenix Riders, she and Xephyra would be outcasts. Together, but still alone.

  A warm hand gripped Veronyka’s shoulder, and she realized that she wasn’t alone, that Tristan was standing beside her. He was lending her his support, even after she’d lied to him and betrayed his trust. He was standing with her against his own father because he believed in her.

  In her. In Veronyka.

  “Do you have something to say, Apprentice?” the commander demanded, but Tristan’s response was interrupted by a knock at the door. It opened without permission, and in stepped Morra, with Ersken and Jana standing just behind. Tristan’s face lit with triumph, and Veronyka guessed that he’d invited them.

  “If he doesn’t, then I do,” Morra said, without pretense or apology. She stood at Veronyka’s other side, with Ersken and Jana next to her. “I have tolerated your foolhardy rules for long enough, Cassian. She conned me, it’s true,” she said, casting Veronyka a look of mild chagrin, “but there was no trickery in what she did during that battle. If it weren’t for her, we’d not have lasted until you returned. She was fearless and brave, and she sacrificed herself—as well as her phoenix, her beloved bondmate—for the sake of everyone here.” She sniffed and turned her glittering gaze on Veronyka as she continued. “She was glory on wings, like the Pyraean queens of old.”