of death. . . . From the ashes I rose, like a phoenix from the pyre.
- CHAPTER 44 -
VERONYKA
AFTER HER CONVERSATION WITH Sev, Veronyka went back to the barracks, her heavy heart lightened somewhat. She’d barely crawled into her hammock—or so it seemed—when she was being shaken awake again.
Her mind came sluggishly back to consciousness, and she opened her eyes to see Tristan standing over her. She sat bolt upright, knocking her head into his with a painful crack.
“Damn it, Nyk,” Tristan said, rubbing his brow.
“Sorry,” Veronyka hissed. Around them the barracks was quiet and deserted—clearly everyone was already up and working again.
“What time is it?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.
“It’s only just daybreak,” he said, dusty beams of pale sunlight slicing the air between them. She stretched, her sleeping shirt sliding down to reveal her shoulder. It was innocent enough, a bare scrap of flesh, and yet . . . Tristan stared fixedly at the small patch of brown skin, the attention making her whole body prickle with heat. He quickly forced his gaze away, which only made Veronyka more self-conscious.
They hadn’t spoken since the battle, and as she looked at him, a fresh wave of hot shame washed over her. Despite everything Val had done, Veronyka couldn’t put all the blame on her sister’s shoulders. Veronyka had been the one to lie to Tristan, repeatedly, and she knew she owed him an explanation.
“Tristan, I . . . ,” she began, turning stiffly to face him, her muscles aching with the memory of the attack. “I’m so sorry. I never should have lied to you.”
His eyes were guarded as he considered her, and even his mind was more closed than usual. “Why did you do it?”
Veronyka shrugged. “I wanted to be a Rider, and I knew the commander was only accepting boys. . . . I thought it was my best chance.”
“I know why you pretended to be a boy,” Tristan said. “I just don’t know why you didn’t tell me. Maybe at the start, but all those times we were alone . . . training or just talking. I told you about my”—he waved a hand—“thing with fire. Didn’t you trust me?”
Veronyka let out a shaky breath. This was the question she didn’t really know how to answer. “Of course I did,” she said, sitting forward. “I trust you more than anyone in the world,” she added in a whisper.
His throat worked as he swallowed, and he looked down. She knew she needed to give him more—that he deserved more—but she struggled to find the right words.
“It’s just that I’ve trusted before,” she continued slowly, “trusted with all my heart and soul, and . . . and . . .” Her voice wavered, but Tristan finished the thought for her.
“And that person betrayed your trust.”
They looked at each other, and Veronyka knew he understood her.
“I thought about leaving when they put Xephyra in that cage. I was going to tell you before that, but I was afraid I’d be punished or sent away. Then after . . . I guess I thought the commander might value Xephyra as a broodmare over me as a Rider.”
Tristan nodded, his expression pained, and she knew it hurt him that he couldn’t dismiss her concerns about his father.
“And,” Veronyka continued, voicing the most personal reason of all for withholding the truth, “it was hard to face the possibility that you might hate me for lying to you, might lose whatever respect you had for me. . . .”
“I could never hate you, Nyk—Veronyka,” he corrected hastily.
“You can call me whatever you want,” she said softly. Something about it was intimate, suggestive, and she wasn’t sure if she’d meant it that way or not.
His eyes widened before he looked away, red splotches creeping up his neck and the edge of his jaw. He bit the inside of his cheek, and Veronyka could swear he was fighting to keep a pleased smile off his face.
“It doesn’t change anything for me, you know,” he said, still not looking at her. “Boy, girl—whatever. You’re you, and that’s all I care about.”
Veronyka thought her heart might burst.
“What was it your sister called you—xe Nyka?”
The bubble of pleasure that had swelled up inside her quickly deflated. “Yes,” she said uneasily. She’d told Tristan he could call her anything, but she wasn’t sure she wanted him to call her that.
“Something about her . . . She gives me the creeps,” he said, laughing awkwardly and rubbing the back of