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VERONYKA
AS SOON AS THEY passed through the archway and the chaos atop the battlements came into view, Veronyka’s insides went cold. There were soldiers inside the stronghold, wielding axes, crossbows, and short swords, their edges tipped in blood. Bodies littered the walkway across the wall and the ground beneath it, while a distant glow to the east told her that the village gate was burning.
The possibility that they might lose became real to Veronyka for the first time. And she had convinced Tristan to involve Xephyra and the rest of the phoenixes. Veronyka might lose her bondmate all over again. Her legs became wobbly stems beneath her, and she drew air in quick, shallow breaths. The stronghold was flooded with fear, her own most powerful of all, and Veronyka thought she might drown in it.
High above, a phoenix screeched, and Veronyka looked up to see Xephyra burn a brilliant violet streak across the sky. Rex and the other phoenixes joined in, and as the stronghold’s defenders clapped and cheered, the heavy press of emotion lightened. Veronyka knew then that she’d made the right decision. Not only had they brought hope to their flagging defenders, but the phoenixes were true warriors—if anyone was qualified to fight the soldiers tonight, it was them.
Tristan dove into the fighting as soon as they returned, helping two of his fellow apprentices reclaim a section of the wall as Rex and the others soared by. The defenders waved their weapons in the air, heartened by their reinforcements, while the soldiers stared at the firebirds with openmouthed fear. Maybe they thought all the phoenixes had been drawn out by the diversions, or maybe they’d never faced them in battle before.
Rex and the other males flew together in circles high above the battle, slowly building their heat, while Xephyra and the females were far more erratic. Veronyka was relieved to see that neither of the unbonded phoenixes had used the opportunity to flee—at least not yet.
Rex was the first to break the pattern, igniting as he dove toward the attacking forces. He whipped past the walls, trailing fire in his wake and causing soldiers to duck and cry out, only to topple from the wall or be cut through by a defender. It took several passes for the phoenix fire to actually burn the ropes, thanks to the pyraflora resin, but with each sweep of flaming wing or tail feather, the ropes frayed and weakened. The rest of the males followed after him, orbiting the stronghold with swathes of flame until it was lit to almost daylight brightness.
Veronyka glanced at Tristan, worried for how he’d react to so much fire, but he was focused on the fighting. His mental safe house must be holding up well. She’d sensed him working on it inside the Eyrie, and some instinct—or maybe the information Val had given her about how she’d controlled Xephyra—told her that she could lend Tristan her strength, that she could help him through their connection. She didn’t know if it had worked, only that Tristan’s erratic breathing had slowed and the tension in his mind cleared.
Taking up her serrated knife once more, Veronyka found an untouched rope and got to work. She still wore a quiver of arrows, and her bow was strapped to her back, but the weapon made her feel like a fraud. She could barely draw the string or hit a stationary target, never mind kill a man in the middle of a battle. She tried to let Tristan’s reassurances wash over her: You have other strengths, you know.
Like hacking at ropes?
Her palms were so sweaty, she could barely hold the handle, but she did her best to focus. While Veronyka might be able to block out the feelings of other people and animals, Xephyra was bonded to her, and their joint emotions swirled together as the fight wore on. The war cry that ripped from Xephyra’s beak left Veronyka’s throat dry, and the heat that rippled from her wings caused Veronyka’s skin to itch.
She encouraged her bondmate to mimic Rex’s flight patterns, and after much nudging and convincing, Xephyra began to follow him through his dives and circles. The other two females, on the other hand, did whatever they pleased. Xatara was screeching relentlessly, ripping and snapping at anyone and everyone, not just the soldiers. Luckily, the attacking arrows drew her attention more than the defenders on the wall, so she harassed their encampment below and tore climbers from the wall with