flames of her bondmate’s already wild emotions, and as they dipped and soared, weaving a mesh of fire above, Xephyra expelled a great rush of heat and flame in response.
No, Xephyra! Veronyka shouted through the bond as the guards closed in and panic seized her heart. Calm down, and everything will be fine. Just calm—
But Xephyra was too far gone. She reared up again, backing away from the surging guards and bumping into the side of a storage shed. Barrels went flying and beams of wood caught fire. If Veronyka didn’t get Xephyra under control, the stronghold would burn.
An arrow whizzed by Xephyra’s head, meant to scare her back and away from the other wooden buildings, but the sight of it drove icy fear deep into Veronyka’s bones. She held her breath as another arrow flew in the same direction, and then a third, which veered slightly off course just as Xephyra staggered forward. It grazed the muscle of her wing and zipped past; there was a scream—and it came from Veronyka’s own throat. She fell to the ground again, and a strong arm slipped around her stomach, heaving her backward.
“No!” Veronyka shouted, shoving the arm—which belonged to Tristan—aside as she got laboriously to her feet. Her wild eyes flitted from Xephyra to the guards with their raised weapons, to the phoenixes above, and back down to the flames licking across the ground. “No, no—stop!”
And everyone did.
The entire yard stilled for a strange infinitesimal moment, just long enough for Veronyka to realize that she’d accidentally used shadow magic. To command. To control.
The knowledge sent shock waves through her, and as if released from a trance, the crowd expelled its collective breath. No one seemed to have noticed what had happened . . . no one except for Val. She was staring at Veronyka as if she’d never seen her before.
Veronyka didn’t have time to spare for her sister. She whirled around, seeking out Xephyra, who was still motionless from Veronyka’s magic—though her flesh continued to hiss and crackle with heat.
The sight of her like that made Veronyka’s throat ache. Not only had she apparently commanded a crowd of people, but she’d commanded her bondmate, a thing she’d sworn she’d never do.
There was a gust of air, bringing with it the tang of steel. The net whooshed over Veronyka’s head and settled onto Xephyra with a heavy, metallic rattle that echoed in the courtyard. She flapped her wings and snapped at the links, but it did no good.
Veronyka lunged for her, but the sudden movement caused black spots to speckle her vision. She’d used too much magic, depleting herself, and she staggered into Tristan.
“Where are they taking her?” she demanded, using Tristan for balance as she struggled to see over the crowd of guards closing in on her bondmate. He avoided her eye, his expression grim. “Where are they—Commander!” she shouted, spotting the man as he crossed the courtyard and releasing her grasp on Tristan to follow him.
The commander turned, and then nodded, as if he’d been expecting her. “Good,” he said, his gaze flicking over her shoulder to where Tristan stood. “Both of you, come with me.”
Veronyka didn’t want to leave Xephyra. But she needed answers, and the commander was the only person who would have them. Still, her heart thudded painfully as she left her bondmate behind. They had only trapped Xephyra because they thought her a danger. Once she calmed down, they’d release her.
She told herself that over and over again, though her chest remained tight.
The instant the door shut behind them in the commander’s meeting room, Veronyka spoke. “What are they doing with her?” she asked as Cassian moved to stare out the window into the courtyard below. The smell of burnt wood wafted in, along with the sounds of sweeping brooms and scraping shovels. “You have to tell me where they’re taking her.”
The commander raised his brows in a puzzled look. That’s when it hit her. . . . He didn’t know. Nobody had figured it out yet. Veronyka’s pulse quickened. To everyone here, Xephyra was an unbonded, wild female phoenix, and Nyk was just a stableboy that had been caught in the crossfire.
“The phoenix is a her, then?” asked Tristan, looking between them. Yes, the phoenix was a her, and Veronyka knew exactly what they did with female phoenixes at the Eyrie. “So she’ll be put . . .”
“In the breeding enclosure,” the commander finished with a curt nod, taking a seat in his chair.