But Veronyka’s determination to stand up for herself wavered the closer she got to the cabin. Things had been so tense between them lately, and she didn’t want to have another unnecessary fight. Her patience with Val’s surliness was wearing thin. If Veronyka and Xephyra beat her sister back to the cabin, they could avoid a confrontation altogether.
Xephyra soared ahead as they cut through the thick forest, flitting from branch to branch, poking her beak at worms and grubs, and chirruping at other birds that crossed their path. She was like a precocious child—intelligent, curious, and sometimes impulsive, but still lacking a certain maturity and understanding of the world. Their communication had grown in the weeks since her birth, shifting from images and impressions to more developed thoughts and even the odd word or sentence, though it would be months until Xephyra had the vocabulary and language comprehension to have a full conversation. They’d begun to anticipate each other’s movements and thoughts, doing daily chores as if attached by an invisible string.
Much as Xephyra was changing, Veronyka found her own mind expanding with all the sensory information her bondmate gave her. Smells and sounds and sights that had always gone unnoticed by Veronyka became bright spots of interest for the phoenix. Veronyka’s magic was affected too. Ever since they’d bonded, the strength and reach of her animal magic had almost doubled, bringing the world to life around her more vividly than ever before.
Already Xephyra was the size of a large eagle, her down replaced with silky, iridescent feathers, longer and darker on her tail, matching the beginnings of a crest growing atop her head. Females had deep purple crowns and tail feathers, while the males’ accents were golden yellow. Val had said Xephyra was large for her age, and by two months she could be ready to ride. Though the timing varied, most phoenixes were considered fully grown between three and six months.
Phoenixes developed quickly, physically and mentally, their accelerated growth cycle giving them lightning-fast healing times and sharp intelligence. Xephyra was thirsty for knowledge, which was why it was so difficult to get her to remain indoors. The other reason was her deep-rooted interest in finding other phoenixes—“brothers and sisters of fire,” she called them in her mind. Phoenixes weren’t solitary; they mated for life, and they usually lived in groups, gathering food and defending territory together.
Veronyka knew it was only a matter of time before Xephyra would insist on leaving to seek others like them. She would need the guidance of other phoenixes, and Veronyka would definitely need the help of other Riders. The thought of striking out together was impossibly exciting, an adventure Veronyka hardly dared to imagine. It was the logical next step, but it was so much more than that. The idea of being welcomed by other animages and their phoenixes, of making friends and finding a place to belong was an intoxicating dream. But there were so many uncertainties, not least of which was the question of whether any such place—or any such people—existed.
There was also the question of whether or not Val would come. If she even could come. She didn’t have a phoenix, after all.
Absorbed in her thoughts and distracted by Xephyra’s contemplation of a cobweb, Veronyka actually jumped when a loud crack echoed through the forest, coming from the direction of the cabin.
She swallowed, a hot spasm of fear lancing through her stomach. It had sounded like a door being kicked in.
Val.
She must have returned home early.
Veronyka quickened her pace, telling Xephyra to do the same. If they hurried, she might get within view of the cabin before Val saw their approach, and Veronyka could convince her sister that they’d never journeyed beyond the isolated safety of the small clearing.
Fixing the story in her mind, Veronyka ducked under a heavy bough, sticky bits of sap clinging to her fingers and hair. She released the branch with a swish, and the cabin came into view, bathed in the hazy, brass-colored sunlight of late afternoon.
It was peaceful-looking. Idyllic. Like a wise maiora’s cottage in an old folktale.
Except there was no kindly old woman before her, offering sweets and a story.
There wasn’t even Val, with arms crossed and nostrils flared.
Instead there was a raider. And he was staring right at her.
We clung to each other in our grief. Her suffering was my suffering. Her pain was my pain.
- CHAPTER 5 -
SEV
SEV’S HAND DROPPED REFLEXIVELY to the knife strapped to his belt. He was surprised