Everything else faded away, and it was like she was back in the courtyard again.
“Why?” she demanded, swallowing around the lump in her throat.
The sky was a dark, dusky gray, and the flickering lanterns on the gallery above—along with the reddish glow from the lit phoenix beacon—limned Tristan in a halo of red and gold. His face was shadowed, but when he took another wary step forward, his grim features came into clearer view.
“Look,” he began hesitantly. “This wasn’t . . . I didn’t—I made a mistake.” Veronyka blinked in surprise. He looked around, as if trying to find words, and then gripped his hair with both hands. “I don’t know what I’m doing. Can’t you see that?” he practically shouted, his composure crumpling. “I don’t how to run this place, and what if the commander—my father—never comes back?”
The words were strangled, and seeing his anguished expression, Veronyka extended herself to him. It was instinctual, like reaching for a knife that was falling, even though she knew it was dangerous. But for some reason, reopening the channel between them didn’t feel wrong or forbidden in this instance. It felt right, like it did when she connected with Xephyra. It wasn’t about spying or controlling; it was about empathy—about sharing in his pain.
That was the difference between her and Val, she realized. Val used her knowledge as a weapon, to hurt, always seeking out weaknesses and ways to exploit them. Veronyka used her shadow magic to understand those around her, and it provided her with compassion and insight.
Maybe shadow magic wasn’t a dark temptation; maybe it could it be both good and bad, just like people.
Still, Veronyka knew she had to be careful. She had already used her magic against Tristan once before, teasing him about calling Wind “xe xie,” just to prove a point. That had been small and relatively harmless, but that didn’t make it right. Shadow magic could be a slippery slope. First Veronyka only wanted to understand Tristan, and then she went looking for things, and after that? How far a stretch could it really be to go from stealing thoughts and emotions to implanting some of your own? Every time they argued, would she plumb ever deeper, seeking newer and better ways to hurt him?
Like Val?
No, Veronyka thought firmly. I am not like her.
As the link between them opened, Veronyka saw just how tumultuous his emotions truly were. His mind—like any she’d ever connected with, human or animal—had a distinctive texture or feeling to it. Val was smoke and iron. Xephyra was bright, pure sunlight. Tristan was earthy and fresh—like dewy grass and the patter of warm summer rain. Usually. Right now his mind felt more like a thundercloud, swirling and crackling and rolling overhead.
“I’m not ready for all this,” he continued, breathing heavily. “None of the apprentices have real combat experience, and Elliot . . . I don’t know what to do with him. I can’t bear the thought that all these people are counting on me, looking at me to lead. If I can protect at least one friend, if I can protect you, I should do that. I should want to do that, because it would be the right thing. But I don’t want to—don’t think I can—do this alone. I want you there next to me. I trust you more than anyone, but I promised, and—”
“Promised?” Veronyka repeated sharply, that one word piercing the bubble of joy that had been swelling inside her chest. “Promised who?”
Val stepped out of the shadows.
Though she was nearer to Veronyka than Tristan, all her attention was focused on him. Veronyka was almost bowled over by the wave of shadow magic her sister was emanating, funneling it like a gale that practically blasted Tristan off his feet. He slammed into the wall behind him, his face slack as Val bore down on him, her smoldering shadow magic scent heavy in Veronyka’s nostrils.
Veronyka, who remained connected to Tristan after opening herself to him moments ago, heard what Val forced into his mind.
Stop. Don’t speak. Don’t think. You remember nothing. You—
“Val, enough!” Veronyka shouted, flinging her roughly aside. Val seemed to lose her focus and break the connection, and the air between them lost the crackling energy that had filled it. The terrible sound of her sister’s voice was ripped from her mind, and from Tristan’s as well.
Veronyka reinforced her barriers, though she could do nothing to protect Tristan.
He shook his head, blinking several times as he tried to