more often than not. She’s right curious—and a bit impulsive, truth be told,” he said fondly, patting her neck after the leash had been secured. Xoe twitched and ruffled her feathers as the cuff was fastened but otherwise allowed him to do his work.
“Her Majesty Xatara, on the other hand,” Ersken said with a sigh, “likes to make trouble.” He frowned as he tried to reach the leg of the older, larger phoenix, who was spreading her wings, forcing her smaller competition away from the food. “She’s fierce as fire and twice as hungry. Her Highness demands respect, and so I give it to her. Best to cuff her last. That way—” He cursed, drawing his arm back as a cut opened near his elbow, courtesy of Xatara’s sharp claws. He reached back in with clenched teeth, closing the clasp with a snap before stepping back and reaching for a rag. “That way if you’re wounded, you can tend to it straightaway.”
He mopped at the blood and examined several bright red burn marks. He wore a leather jerkin and armguards to protect himself, but they didn’t cover the entirety of his skin. The exposed flesh near his elbows and hands was covered in pale scars and partially healed scabs.
“Xolanthe and Xatara?” Veronyka asked. They matched the names of two warrior phoenixes from The Pyraean Epics, an anthology of songs and poems written during the Reign of Queens. Val had memorized the collection and used to recite it when they were trapped inside for days during the cold, rainy winters. “Are they sisters?”
Ersken chuckled. “No. They were named by the commander, who has a taste for poetry, it would seem. Suppose he’ll need to name this new one now,” he added absently. Veronyka’s lips tightened at the thought of her beloved bondmate being renamed without her consent.
Ersken nodded to a lever on the far side of the enclosure, next to the opening for the food. “You can do the honors, if you’d like. That lifts the back hatch.”
Veronyka’s eyes widened. Could it be that simple? All she had to do was turn one lever, and Xephyra and the rest of the females could fly away?
Hands shaking slightly, she wrenched on the heavy switch, and a loud groaning sound reverberated through the enclosure. As she pulled down, a length of chain rattled somewhere out of sight, and the barred gate at the opposite side of the cage slowly creaked open.
With a wave of anticipation, the phoenixes took flight, though they were reminded of their chains soon enough. They tested their range once or twice, snapping and tugging at the metal leashes, before settling into the rhythm of flight. The chains were at least a hundred feet long and set on a rotating tether, which stopped them from getting tied into knots as they circled and banked around one another.
Veronyka and Ersken watched from a balcony next to the enclosure. The sky was pale blue, and the view of the gorge below was breathtaking. Jagged peaks faded into the distance in every direction, while rich greenery, growing brighter daily with the coming summer, coated the landscape.
Veronyka would miss this place. It felt more like a home than any of the houses, apartments, and cabins she and Val had lived in since they’d left their maiora behind. Even when she’d lived with her grandmother, Veronyka had been friendless and powerless on the unsafe Narrows streets. She wanted to belong here, but maybe she didn’t. Couldn’t. Maybe she’d just have to let it go.
Xephyra only flew two or three circles before she looped back around, drawn to Veronyka’s presence. Ersken staggered back as the phoenix approached, but she landed on the rock just below them. Veronyka crouched and reached out a hand, wary of the long drop.
“That one’s taken a likin’ to you, eh?” he said, frowning slightly. Unless bonded, phoenixes never took a liking to anybody. Veronyka grimaced, knowing they were in danger of revealing themselves and yet unable to turn Xephyra away. She allowed herself to pat her bondmate once before mentally encouraging her to enjoy the exercise while she could.
“She’s bonded before, I’d wager,” Ersken said as Xephyra flew off in a gust of warm air. Veronyka glanced at him warily, yet she didn’t sense any suspicion there, only a mild observation from a man who’d spent too much time with captive phoenixes. Ersken had a kindly face, and he wasn’t the nasty jailer she’d imagined. He was past middle age, barrel-chested