Ah. So, this was his reckless plan. Why had Tristan blindly agreed to this? With a calm he didn’t know he possessed, Tristan pushed a slow, even breath out through his lips.
One . . . two . . . three horses were freed before Jana closed the gate, and even as Tristan told himself not to panic, that he could handle a few extra horses, he noticed the half a dozen hounds that had snuck out with them.
He was going to kill Nyk.
Everyone was looking around at one another, trying to decide what to do. Even the commander stepped forward, clearly intending to intervene, but with a curious glance at Tristan, Beryk restrained him.
So, they were going to let him try.
Closing his eyes, Tristan blocked out the commotion around him and focused on the animals. Again listening to Nyk’s advice, Tristan trusted that Wind, the first hound, and the pigeon would remain in position, and sought the other animals instead. He’d never tried to manage so many at once, but then again, when he looked at it the way Nyk did—not constantly putting pressure on each one, but rather reaching out to them individually, making his request and then receding—it wasn’t nearly so strenuous. Both the dogs and the horses had been through this multiple times before, so once Tristan reminded them of their duty to behave and remain still, they were much easier to get under control.
It was a bit like gardening. Tristan’s mother had loved flowers, and their house had always smelled of roses and violets and bloodred Fire Blossoms. He’d helped Old Ana tend his mother’s garden after she died—though being so young, he had no doubt he’d been more hindrance than help—and when they’d left home for good, he and Old Ana planted new flowers outside the village. According to her, it was more about being a guiding hand, not a constant overseer—and animal magic was the same. Just as the plants would naturally reach for the sun, so animals instinctually sought out animages.
While some resisted his touch more than others, eventually the freed horses slowed their pace and looped back around, while the hounds yipped once or twice before doing the same. Sweat trailed down Tristan’s forehead, but he ignored the mental and physical strain as he reined in the disorder around him.
A hush fell over the group as, one by one, horses and hounds lined up alongside Tristan, creating a half circle of perfectly obedient animals.
Tristan gave Rex a final command; the phoenix lowered his head, and with one last flap of his wings, his fire went out.
It was as if a bubble of silence had popped, and the world burst to life around him once more. The apprentices and Riders cheered, rushing forward to congratulate him, while the stableboys moved to recapture the escaped animals.
The commander stayed put, and as Tristan dismounted, he heard Beryk say, “That’s mighty impressive, Commander—I couldn’t do that.”
Tristan was pleased, if exhausted, but he tried to smile and nod as he waded through the crush of bodies, distracted.
Finally the crowd parted, and his eyes fell on Nyk.
He gave Tristan that familiar, shy smile—clearly unsure if Tristan was going to thank him or strangle him for his so-called reckless plan.
Despite wanting to murder him in the moment, Tristan felt nothing but overwhelming gratitude. Yes, mastering the escaped animals had been challenging, but it was the silent, unknown battle that Tristan was proudest of. The battle only Nyk knew about.
For the first time in his memory, Tristan had faced a phoenix in full flame, and he hadn’t hesitated. He wanted to shout from the mountaintop, to roar his triumph and exhilaration for all to hear.
Instead Tristan pushed the others aside, determination propelling him forward.
He barreled into Nyk, throwing his arms around him as the noise receded and there was nothing but the two of them, pressed together.
“You did it,” Nyk gasped, apparently surprised by Tristan’s sudden, fierce embrace.
Remembering the crowd around them, Tristan drew back, avoiding Nyk’s curious expression, and forced an easy smile. “Thanks to you.”
When gentle King Hellund married ferocious Queen Genya, there was much celebration and fanfare in the empire—though the newly minted queen was not there to see it.
The instant the ink dried on their marriage contract, the young bride leapt onto the back of her phoenix, Exiline, leaving her groom behind. With fine silk and Fire Blossoms trailing in her wake, she hunted down the infamous group of bandits that had been terrorizing