it, marveling at the fact that it had been there all along, an itching, nagging presence that she simply hadn’t recognized for what it was.
Opening the channel between them wasn’t as easy as it had been with Tristan. He didn’t have shadow magic and didn’t truly understand how to guard himself. Val, on the other hand, was a fortress.
The barrier between them was dense and unforgiving—a door made of thickest iron, bolted and barricaded and utterly impenetrable unless you had the key. The effort of trying to break through nearly robbed Veronyka of her consciousness.
Nice try, xe Nyka, said Val’s calm, amused voice inside her head. Veronyka hadn’t managed to open the door, but her attempts had obviously drawn Val’s attention, and she spoke to Veronyka as if she were standing right on the other side. But you never had the stomach for mind games.
Where are you? Veronyka asked, still unable to see anything beyond the door.
Don’t worry, I’ll be gone before you know it, came Val’s response, and already she was pulling away. Desperate, Veronyka reached for Val with all her strength, catching her off guard. There was a moment of unencumbered connection, a single, clear image seen through Val’s eyes, before she severed their contact.
It was only a glimpse of her surroundings, but it was enough.
Despite all Val had done, all the ways she’d hurt Veronyka, the night’s battle had changed things. Veronyka had seen too much death to let her sister walk away from her forever—not without a proper goodbye.
The image she’d seen through Val’s eyes had been a large, low-ceilinged room filled with boxes and barrels. A storage room. Val had likely been stealing supplies when Veronyka made contact with her, and if she hurried, she’d catch her sister before she escaped.
Veronyka found the cellar several floors below the kitchens, at the bottom of a winding stone stair. It was dark and windowless, perfect for keeping food and perishable items.
As soon as Veronyka entered, she knew it was the same room she’d seen in Val’s mind.
Only, Val wasn’t there.
Veronyka turned to leave when she noticed what looked like wheel marks along the floor, leading out from the back of the room.
She followed the tracks but came up against a stone wall. She frowned, but then remembered Val’s words from earlier in the evening:
We’ll sneak out through the underground service entrance.
Maybe it wasn’t a wall at all.
Veronyka pressed both hands against the cool stone surface and pushed.
The tunnel that led out from the storage room was long and dark, unlit by lanterns or torches. There were several offshoots, probably leading up to the stables and maybe even into the Eyrie itself.
Veronyka pushed blindly forward, all the while straining with her senses, both physical and magical. A haze of diffuse light came into view as she neared the end, the barest hints of early morning sunlight streaming through a tangle of fragrant bushes over the entrance. With a bit of prodding, she discovered a metal grate with a concealed latch that allowed her to move the obstruction aside.
She wedged a piece of stone into the gap as she let the gate fall back into place, and the doorway all but disappeared, hidden behind thick hanging vines and wide green leaves. The ground in front of it was hard stone, the kind of firm surface that wouldn’t reveal wagon tracks or hoofprints.
As she took in the landscape, trying to get her bearings, Veronyka felt a tingle of awareness. She whirled around to see Val perched on the rock overtop the tunnel, an arrow notched and ready to fire. She held the weapon confidently—no tremor in her arms or uncertainty in her stance—and Veronyka wondered when she’d learned to be an expert archer.
“What do you want, Veronyka?” she asked, bow steady. “I’ve a lot of ground to cover before dark.”
Veronyka swallowed. What did she want? “I wanted to make sure that you were okay.”
Val kept the weapon pointed at her a moment longer before releasing a snort of disbelief and lowering it. “I thought you hated me.”
She said the words callously, as if they were a joke, but Veronyka could feel the hurt in her sister’s voice and sense the anger simmering just below the surface.
“I don’t hate you, Val,” she said. Even after everything, she didn’t. She didn’t think she ever could. Veronyka had lost so much in her life, she couldn’t willingly reject the last bit of her family, of her childhood, she had left.