place in her mind where Xephyra’s connection lived, but the thoughts and sensations funneling through were muddled and incoherent. Veronyka had forgotten what it was like to have a bond, to keep a part of yourself open at all times, and perhaps Xephyra had lost that instinct as well. All Veronyka could discern was that Xephyra was being fitted with a leash again. What was happening?
At the bottom of the stairs, Veronyka slowed her pace, willing herself to relax. Maybe Ersken allowed them an evening fly as well as an afternoon one. Maybe this was normal.
Still, her heart was a wild thing inside her chest—and not just because of the dozens of stairs she’d just run. Xephyra’s confusion was her own, and the sensation reminded Veronyka all too much of the moments before Val had poisoned her.
Pausing just inside the shadows of the gallery, Veronyka peered down into the courtyard below.
Ersken was standing next to Commander Cassian, facing the enclosure as if watching a show. They murmured together, but Veronyka couldn’t hear them or see what they were looking at from her vantage point. Xephyra was calm for now, but it didn’t change the feelings of unease she was emitting.
Instead of continuing down the stairs and entering the courtyard, Veronyka edged along the gallery. At last she saw Xephyra, but she wasn’t in the enclosure with the other two females.
She was in the matching enclosure next to them.
A hand dropped onto her shoulder, and Veronyka whirled, her heart jumping into her throat.
Tristan stood in the shadows just behind her, a frown on his face. “Hey, are you okay?” he asked softly. His eyes raked her face, taking in the details of her strained expression and the way she kept looking down at the enclosure below. “What are you doing?”
He followed her line of sight and spotted Xephyra, separated from the other females. His face hardened.
“That’s why he asked me to come down here . . . ,” he muttered.
The questions bubbled up in her throat, but she didn’t speak them—she already knew the answer. Veronyka hadn’t given the second enclosure much thought earlier today, but it was clearly used for mating. A tremor rippled through Veronyka’s body. She thought she’d have weeks to figure this out, but it had been less than a day.
“No,” Veronyka whispered, her voice faint. She craned her neck, seeking Xephyra, reaching through the bond. “She’s too young. She’s never . . . She’s not—” Veronyka was blathering, but Tristan cut her off.
“I know,” he said grimly. He stared at her and seemed to come to a decision. He turned away and strode down the steps.
“Tristan, you’re late,” the commander said by way of greeting. “Call Rex down, and let’s get on with this.”
“Don’t you think this is a bit quick?” Tristan asked, coming to stand in front of his father but making no move to follow his orders and call his bondmate. “The phoenix was captured yesterday. She’s clearly young and frightened,” he said, pointing at Xephyra, though at that moment, she looked nothing so much as politely curious.
Biting her lip, Veronyka reached out to Xephyra. She didn’t want to actually scare her, but instead she simply asked: Xephyra, do you trust me?
The answer was swift as breath. Not a word, exactly, but a feeling.
Yes.
Warmth spread inside Veronyka’s chest. Soon she wouldn’t even need to ask; soon they would be completely in sync again.
Smiling, she asked her bondmate to have a bit of a tantrum. She was happy to oblige, squawking indignantly and flapping her wings so her chain rattled.
Tristan seemed puzzled by her abrupt change in attitude, but also pleased, gesturing to the phoenix as she proved his point. “Her wound has barely even healed. Do you really think this is a conducive environment for breeding?”
“Ersken has measured her tail feathers. Their length indicates an age between three to six months. She is fully mature.”
Veronyka swallowed, her throat thick. Xephyra was large for her age—she always had been, even in her first life. She might have lived for over three months cumulatively, but this life, this body was closer to two months.
“Female phoenixes are extremely defensive creatures, Tristan,” the commander continued. “The sooner we engage in breeding exercises, the better the chances she will not yet claim this place as her own. Xolanthe and Xatara have both exhibited territorial behaviors in their mating attempts. This is our chance to counteract that.”
Tristan’s expression was hard. He set his feet and crossed his arms, bracing himself.