Veronyka’s cheeks heated, fear and pride and guilt warming her from the inside out. She’d lied directly to Morra’s face, and yet the woman had still come here to support her.
She glanced at Commander Cassian, but he seemed unsurprised to hear that she’d actually flown Xephyra in the battle, which meant he must have already known.
“She’s the strongest animage I’ve worked with,” added Jana, smiling proudly, her eyes crinkling in the corners. “There’s no animal on this mountain that’s a match for her.” Veronyka knew she was thinking of Wind and couldn’t help but smile in return.
“Now we have those,” said Ersken, nodding down at Sev’s satchel in the corner of the room, which Veronyka noticed there for the first time. “I assume we’ll be recruiting again.”
“Yes,” the commander said stiffly.
“Well, why not start with our Veronyka?”
He said it a bit awkwardly—the name unfamiliar in his mouth—but the word “our” was what really drew Veronyka’s notice. Her throat was tight.
“This attack means war, Commander,” said Morra. “It’s time to ready our troops, and we’ll need every fighter we can get.”
“ ’Specially ones as fierce and fearless as her,” added Ersken.
The commander’s mouth was open. He was surrounded on all sides, and when Beryk, his second-in-command, edged into the room, asking, “Am I late?” the commander actually threw his hands into the air.
He stared at them all for several breathless moments, then deflated. He waved them off impatiently. “So be it.”
Veronyka had never heard anything sweeter.
That night they burned the bodies.
The enemy soldiers had already been dealt with, so this fire was for friends and allies alone.
It had taken the better part of two days to gather enough wood and for the taxed priest and acolytes—busy helping the healer—to perform last rites and prayers. For some, local family was summoned from nearby villages.
They stood in a semicircle just outside the village gate, where the obstacle course had been. The once-grassy plain was now a desolate field of scorched earth and upturned soil, and the scent of smoke mingled with new boards of wood and fresh paint as they tried to rebuild what was lost.
But not all things could be so easily replaced.
Xoe was the last to be placed on the pyre, her red-purple feathers dull in the evening light. Ersken did the honors, and when he stepped back into the crowd, he put a hand on Sparrow’s shoulder, who had laid Chirp onto the heap just moments before.
Sev was there, shoulder still heavily bandaged, along with Morra and her kitchen maids, Jana and the stablehands, and Beryk and the rest of the Riders. Elliot was allowed to attend as well, standing at the back of the crowd with a guard on either side of him, his head bowed.
Veronyka was off to the side, feeling a bit like an intruder. She hadn’t known any of the people who had died, but she’d recognized their names and faces. Captain Flynn hadn’t made it, and neither had one of the smiling washerwomen or the metalworker’s apprentice. One after another they blurred together, and she regretted not having made the effort to get to know them. But that was the nature of life and loss: There was never enough time.
The priest spoke a few words, but Veronyka hardly listened. It was the wind she heard most of all, like a mother’s caress, brushing her hair from her forehead and murmuring comforts into her ears.
At the end of his prayers, the priest finished with the phrase, “May their eternal flames burn bright.”
Everyone repeated the words, and Commander Cassian touched the lit torch he’d been holding to the edge of the pyre. Tristan stood next to him, stoic and respectful.
The flames licked across the dry kindling, the dead finally free to be carried into the sky, where their spirits would burn forever like candles in the dark.
Veronyka’s vision began to blur, turning the fire into shimmering, dancing light. She knew it was useless to fight the tears, so she let them flow, giving her a release she hadn’t realized she’d needed.
She cried for Sparrow, who’d lost a part of herself, and for Xoe, who burned with enough bones to bring her back, but who might decide she’d rather stay among the stars.
She cried for all the people she did know, and for the people she didn’t. She even cried for Val, her once sister, whom she felt she’d lost for good. She cried for her maiora and for the knowledge that Veronyka had no family left, that even the one she’d thought she’d had wasn’t hers at all.
But then a warm hand slipped into hers, large and strong, and Veronyka was startled to find Tristan standing next to her. In his face was a question, and Veronyka nodded, swiping at her eyes with her other hand. She would be okay.
He gave her hand a squeeze—but didn’t let go. Instead he turned and faced the fire with her.
Some families you were born into. Others you made along the way.
A feast was held that night. Commander Cassian put a stop on all repairs inside the stronghold and the village and gathered everyone in the dining hall, workers and guards and apprentices alike. It was like a second solstice festival celebration, with plenty of food and drink and music.
While everyone was seated, the commander announced that the Riders would be accepting new recruits. He didn’t mention who those recruits would be, or how many, but the news was enough to raise everyone’s spirits. While no Riders had been killed during the attack or the diversions, several had been wounded, and of course, they’d lost two of the female phoenixes. They needed whatever good news they could get.
The commander didn’t mention Veronyka—either her position as one of the new recruits or the fact that she was a girl in disguise. Maybe he wanted to give her the chance to do it, or maybe he thought it would detract from the hopeful tidings he’d just shared. More recruits, more Riders—that’s what mattered.
Veronyka ate with Morra, who was actually sitting in the dining hall and not working all night in the kitchens as usual. At first she’d been shy to be alone with the cook, afraid Morra might hold Veronyka’s lies against her despite standing up for her right to train as a female Rider. But she’d seemed more impressed than angry, declaring that the only other person who could talk circles around her had been Avalkyra Ashfire. Veronyka had smiled uneasily and changed the subject.
With the completion of the funeral rites, everyone began to look to the future. While the Riders had survived the attack, their existence on Pyrmont was no longer a secret. Hatred for the empire simmered among the inhabitants of the Eyrie, who wanted vengeance for lost loved ones and ruined livelihoods, and most believed Commander Cassian was too much of a politician to strike back against their enemies. While Veronyka worried about what was to come, she marveled at the fact that, finally, she would be a real part of it.
As the drinking and celebrating went late, Veronyka left the dining hall, reaching out to Xephyra. She found her dozing happily in the Eyrie, a fully healed Rex by her side. Ever since she’d been released from her cage, Xephyra’s entire energy had changed, and her presence in Veronyka’s mind was one of comfort, happiness, and trust. Their bond was growing stronger by the day, and whatever happened, wherever they went from here on out, they’d go there together.
“Tired?” called a voice from behind.
Veronyka slowed her pace, allowing Tristan to catch up with her as she cut a path across the cobblestones.
She took a deep breath and looked up at the starry sky, vast and glimmering, a constant reminder that those she’d lost were always with her. The night breeze slipped across her skin, warmer than it had been in months, and she had what she’d always wanted: a future as a Rider and a place to call home.
“Not even a little bit,” she said, grinning.
“Good,” he said, smiling too and stepping in front of her, walking backward so they could talk face-to-face. “I was hoping you’d be interested in some more practice.”
She frowned. “You mean arch
ery—or the obstacle course?”
“No,” he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. Ersken stood beneath the archway that led into the Eyrie. He held something large in his hands.
A saddle.
Ersken handed it to Tristan and disappeared with a self-satisfied smirk.
“It was mine from when Rex was a bit smaller. So, what do you think?” he asked, trying to gauge Veronyka’s reaction from her openmouthed, stunned silence. “Fancy a proper ride, side by side?”
Somewhere in the Eyrie, Rex and Xephyra stirred from their slumber.
Veronyka beamed at him. Side by side. “Yes.”
Day 21, Ninth Moon, 170 AE
I am atop Genya’s Tower now, watching as the world burns below.
I see you in the sky, and you are everything you ever promised: blood, fire, death.
It is sick, I know, but I am comforted that you are here. My heart swells to see you again—even if it might be the last time.
I’m sorry that I failed you—that we failed each other. But life does not often give second chances.
Know that I love you, dear sister, and I always will.
—Pheronia Ashfire
I had a sister once. . . .
- EPILOGUE -
AVALKYRA
AVALKYRA WAS TIRED.
No. “Tired” was a small, weak word meant for mothers with squalling babes and soldiers working the night watch.
Avalkyra was completely and utterly exhausted.
Somehow her life had become a ridiculous game, a series of motions she went through . . . not for her benefit, but for Veronyka’s. She’d been forced to play nursemaid and mother and sister and friend. She’d wrapped the jagged truth of their lives in soft wool and bright cotton, sheltering Veronyka, protecting her from the ugliness of the world—often at Avalkyra’s own expense. She didn’t mind getting her hands dirty—indeed, they had been filthy long before Veronyka—but as the days and years of her life wore on, she wondered if they’d ever be clean again.
Perhaps it was her exhaustion that had made her reveal herself to Veronyka before she left. She’d never meant to keep the secret so long, but the truth, which had once been difficult to hold in her mouth, seemed to stick to her tongue and obstruct her throat. Veronyka was erratic at best with her shadow magic—how could Avalkyra trust such a person with her most precious secret? Even now there was still so much to tell Veronyka, so much she wouldn’t understand.
Avalkyra sat at the edge of her small campfire, staring at the satchel that contained her newly acquired phoenix egg. She hadn’t looked it at since she’d stolen it from the sleeping soldier’s side. It had been difficult to take only one—and to let the empire rat live when she’d promised otherwise. But if Avalkyra had learned one thing in this second life, it was patience. If she’d stolen more eggs, they’d have noticed and hunted her down. And if she’d killed the soldier as well . . . they’d have noticed the missing egg that much sooner.
If she was honest with herself, the egg unsettled her. Avalkyra suspected there was a reason that phoenix didn’t hatch for her inside their cabin, the same reason she hadn’t been able to hatch the half a dozen other eggs she’d tried to incubate before. She didn’t know if it was because her bondmate had forsaken her and decided not to come back, or if there was some other, deeper reason. Whatever it was, she feared this egg would turn out the same as all the others.
Dead. Empty. Worthless.
Avalkyra took a deep, calming breath.
Fear is a luxury.
It was an ancient Pyraean proverb. The full version was recorded in The Pyraean Epics:
When pitch-darkness falls and lanterns fail, fear is a luxury.
When war invades and there’s no escape, fear is a luxury.
When death gladly claims what life forsakes, fear is a luxury.
Avalkyra couldn’t afford fear. Darkness and death were coming, and as for war? It was already here.
In fact, it had never truly ended—at least not for Avalkyra.
She’d been fighting for thirty-four years, and sometimes she forgot why. Her mind wasn’t as blade-sharp as it had once been, and the details of her life grew hazy through the lens of time. This was unacceptable.
She mustn’t forget all she was and all she must reclaim.
She’d been a princess and a Phoenix Rider. She’d been the Feather-Crowned Queen.
She’d fought a war to win an empire and lost the love of her life, her sister, in the process.
When the weight of it all pressed down on her, Avalkyra thought of what she might say to Pheronia now if she were still alive.
I grow weary, xe Onia The world is not the same.
I am scared for her, xe Onia. She is just like you.
Already it was happening, the similarities between Avalkyra’s two lives becoming more pronounced with each passing day. Was this the will of the gods, then, that Avalkyra should suffer not once, but twice? Was this her destiny, to survive, to endure, but always at the expense of the ones she loved?
No. Her second chance could not be squandered. She and Veronyka would live the lives that she and Pheronia should have lived and rule the empire they should have ruled—together.
They would remake history.
To keep the details straight in her mind, Avalkyra sometimes pretended she were drafting a letter. Only, she never seemed able to actually put ink to paper. Every time she tried, she remembered the last letters she wrote. How she’d wished she could rewrite them after they were sent. How they’d gone unanswered until it was too late.
History was a living, breathing, changing thing—even when it was your own. Each day the past looked different to Avalkyra, and her imagined letter would change.
Sometimes Avalkyra was the victim, carried through the events of the war like a leaf caught in the current of the River Aurys.
Other times Avalkyra was the villain—the current itself, dragging everything and everyone she loved down with her. She suspected this was the true story, but some days it was easier to accept than others.
Usually she addressed the letter to Pheronia, but occasionally she addressed it to Veronyka instead.
Today, as she sat alone in the woods, leaving yet another sister behind, she mentally composed a new letter.
Dear Veronyka,
I am Avalkyra Ashfire, and this is my story.
Sure, they’d hit a bump in the road, but Avalkyra was used to setbacks. Nothing of value in life came easy; always there was a price.
Veronyka had asked a question recently, one that Val hadn’t really been able to answer.
But Avalkyra could.
You asked me why I was here, the night of the solstice festival.
The answer I gave you was as simple as it was complicated: I came back for you.
I lost more than the war sixteen years ago. I lost everything.
It was a night I will never forget. The battle fever was upon me, my blood boiling and my arrows falling from the sky like rain. I saw a figure all alone on the castle walls, with no shelter from the storm. I loosed an arrow before my eyes had even focused.
But as my bowstring scraped across my fingers, I realized that figure was her.
Would that I could chase down arrows, that I could command their will and intent as easily as I do living things.
But I could not. My arrow landed true—they always did. Still, I threw caution and crown to the wind; I threw it all away and went to her. My Nyx took a dozen enemy arrows in our reckless flight, and soon we were falling, falling, like a star cast down from the heavens.
As I held my dying sister, the battle raging around us and my cursed arrow embedded in her heart, I wanted to die too.
It would have been easier. Sweeter. But she would not let me.
She pressed my blood-spattered hand to her swollen belly, and I felt the heartbeat within.
Your heartbeat, xe Nyka.
I must live, she said, because she could not.
She asked too much.
My phoenix was mortally wounded, and her fire burned hot all around us. Blazingly, blisteringly hot.
She asked too much.
The shock of Pheronia’s wound caused her labor to begin early. She was carried to safety so they could try to save the child, though it was too late for Pheronia. They left me to die. I do not blame them.
I felt it, the moment she left this world. I heard her last screams, and as the fire of my bondmate licked across my skin, scorching my flesh, I heard another sound—the wails of a newborn child.
I died, too, but that was not the end. It was the beginning. Our beginning.
I came back. For you, Veronyka.
We were born together, you and I.
False Sisters.
Shadow Twins.
I promised Pheronia I would protect you. It was her dying wish.
I told her I would make things right.
And I’ve only just begun.
TIME LINE
NOTABLE RULERS FROM THE REIGN OF QUEENS (BEFORE THE EMPIRE, BE)
First Era, before dates and events were meticulously recorded (c. 1000–701 BE)
1000 BE – 800 BE
Queen Nefyra1, the First Rider Queen: Chosen by Axura to be the first animage and the First Rider Queen. Ignix, the first phoenix, was her bondmate.
775 BE – 725 BE
Queen Otiya, the Queen of Bones: Defeated a rival Rider family that tried to usurp the throne.
Second Era, the height of Pyraean culture (701–279 BE)
701 BE – 645 BE
Queen Aurelya, the Golden Queen: Began construction on the Golden City of Aura, from which she derives her name.
412 BE – 335 BE
Queen Liyana, the Enduring Queen.
335 BE – 317 BE
Queen Lyra the Defender: Mustered the Red Horde, the first-ever gathering of the entirety of Pyra’s Phoenix Riders. Successfully defended Pyra from the Lowland Invasion.
Third Era, the decline of the queendom (279–1 BE)
Crown of Feathers Page 48