But while Veronyka wasn’t sure if Val could truly love anything or anyone, she believed that the commander did. He’d lost his wife under terrible circumstances. It wasn’t hard to understand why he wouldn’t want his son to risk his life for the same cause that had claimed her.
“What, then, Commander Cassian?” Tristan asked, looking up again. “We sit here and wait?”
Now that Tristan’s voice was steady and his anger in check, the commander removed his hands from the table and sat back in his chair. He seemed pleased to have regained control of the situation and forced a determinedly light smile. “For tonight? We celebrate. We won’t go hunting like a pack of wild dogs or train dozens of new recruits, stretching ourselves beyond our means. Instead we will use the resources we have available to us. Given the display I saw this evening, the best course of action is to move Nyk from the stables to the enclosure. I believe his gifts will make the greatest impact there, and with a third female, our luck will surely begin to change.”
Veronyka’s body went cold, like she’d been plunged into an icy lake.
“The enclosure . . . ,” Tristan repeated, his eyes flicking to Veronyka. “You want Nyk to serve in the breeding cages with the females? But—”
“Furthermore,” the commander continued, his voice rising and betraying his simmering anger, telling Veronyka that he hadn’t forgotten his earlier argument with his son, “as you seem so determined to assume a patrol, I think it’s time you showed me what kind of leadership you are capable of. As you know, the best leaders do so by example. You have put a premium on new eggs, and so you shall volunteer your phoenix for the next round of mating attempts. Your bondmate, Rex, has long since reached full maturity. He would make an ideal candidate for breeding, don’t you think? Perhaps together with your friend Nyk, you can encourage a union that results in new eggs and new Riders. You are dismissed.”
Like an anchor, love will hold fast in a storm, but it can also pull you under.
- CHAPTER 30 -
VERONYKA
VERONYKA BARELY HEARD ANYTHING as Tristan tried to argue. There was a roaring in her ears, a rush that drowned out all thought and feeling. Too much had happened that day, too many shocks and surprises and gut-wrenching realizations.
Xephyra was alive. Axura above, Veronyka’s bondmate was alive. This should be a night of joy—of pure, perfect euphoria.
But it wasn’t. As much as she reveled at being reunited with her bondmate, everything was weighed down by dread.
She’d made a terrible mistake.
She should have told Xephyra to leave, should have sent her away the moment she recognized her. But when the guards surrounded them, she’d thought only of calming Xephyra, certain that the danger was in her phoenix’s volatile reactions, not in her obedience.
Rather than telling Xephyra to flee, Veronyka, in a panic, had commanded her to stay. All this time she’d abhorred and refused that kind of power, and then she’d gone and used it in the worst possible way. It was their bond that had drawn Xephyra to the stronghold in the first place, and Veronyka’s command that ensured her capture.
She’d been told to report to the Eyrie the following morning. It was almost like a dream come true. Almost.
Veronyka gripped her head to stop herself from screaming—or crying. She was worse than Val, worse than the commander. She had betrayed her own bondmate—surely there was no more severe a crime than that.
And somehow her secret was still safe . . . but what did it matter? She couldn’t stay here—not with Xephyra in a cage—and as soon as she told them why Xephyra couldn’t remain inside the enclosure, it would all be over anyway.
Sour regret gripped her. She should have told them the truth, should have gotten it over with straightaway rather than allow Xephyra to remain locked up for one more minute.
But she hadn’t. She was a weak, pathetic coward. Even the thought of it was enough to make her heart stutter and her breaths grow thin. She was utterly overwrought, and she didn’t have the strength to deal with it right now.
Outside, the stronghold had gone quiet. The dining hall was empty, and the guards were back at their posts. The celebrations had been cut short; there would be no fiery phoenix dance tonight.