Rex by her side. Ever since she’d been released from her cage, Xephyra’s entire energy had changed, and her presence in Veronyka’s mind was one of comfort, happiness, and trust. Their bond was growing stronger by the day, and whatever happened, wherever they went from here on out, they’d go there together.
“Tired?” called a voice from behind.
Veronyka slowed her pace, allowing Tristan to catch up with her as she cut a path across the cobblestones.
She took a deep breath and looked up at the starry sky, vast and glimmering, a constant reminder that those she’d lost were always with her. The night breeze slipped across her skin, warmer than it had been in months, and she had what she’d always wanted: a future as a Rider and a place to call home.
“Not even a little bit,” she said, grinning.
“Good,” he said, smiling too and stepping in front of her, walking backward so they could talk face-to-face. “I was hoping you’d be interested in some more practice.”
She frowned. “You mean archery—or the obstacle course?”
“No,” he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. Ersken stood beneath the archway that led into the Eyrie. He held something large in his hands.
A saddle.
Ersken handed it to Tristan and disappeared with a self-satisfied smirk.
“It was mine from when Rex was a bit smaller. So, what do you think?” he asked, trying to gauge Veronyka’s reaction from her openmouthed, stunned silence. “Fancy a proper ride, side by side?”
Somewhere in the Eyrie, Rex and Xephyra stirred from their slumber.
Veronyka beamed at him. Side by side. “Yes.”
Day 21, Ninth Moon, 170 AE
I am atop Genya’s Tower now, watching as the world burns below.
I see you in the sky, and you are everything you ever promised: blood, fire, death.
It is sick, I know, but I am comforted that you are here. My heart swells to see you again—even if it might be the last time.
I’m sorry that I failed you—that we failed each other. But life does not often give second chances.
Know that I love you, dear sister, and I always will.
—Pheronia Ashfire
I had a sister once. . . .
- EPILOGUE -
AVALKYRA
AVALKYRA WAS TIRED.
No. “Tired” was a small, weak word meant for mothers with squalling babes and soldiers working the night watch.
Avalkyra was completely and utterly exhausted.
Somehow her life had become a ridiculous game, a series of motions she went through . . . not for her benefit, but for Veronyka’s. She’d been forced to play nursemaid and mother and sister and friend. She’d wrapped the jagged truth of their lives in soft wool and bright cotton, sheltering Veronyka, protecting her from the ugliness of the world—often at Avalkyra’s own expense. She didn’t mind getting her hands dirty—indeed, they had been filthy long before Veronyka—but as the days and years of her life wore on, she wondered if they’d ever be clean again.
Perhaps it was her exhaustion that had made her reveal herself to Veronyka before she left. She’d never meant to keep the secret so long, but the truth, which had once been difficult to hold in her mouth, seemed to stick to her tongue and obstruct her throat. Veronyka was erratic at best with her shadow magic—how could Avalkyra trust such a person with her most precious secret? Even now there was still so much to tell Veronyka, so much she wouldn’t understand.
Avalkyra sat at the edge of her small campfire, staring at the satchel that contained her newly acquired phoenix egg. She hadn’t looked it at since she’d stolen it from the sleeping soldier’s side. It had been difficult to take only one—and to let the empire rat live when she’d promised otherwise. But if Avalkyra had learned one thing in this second life, it was patience. If she’d stolen more eggs, they’d have noticed and hunted her down. And if she’d killed the soldier as well . . . they’d have noticed the missing egg that much sooner.
If she was honest with herself, the egg unsettled her. Avalkyra suspected there was a reason that phoenix didn’t hatch for her inside their cabin, the same reason she hadn’t been able to hatch the half a dozen other eggs she’d tried to incubate before. She didn’t know if it was because her bondmate had forsaken her and decided not to come back, or if there was some other, deeper reason. Whatever it was, she feared this egg would turn out the same as all the others.
Dead. Empty. Worthless.
Avalkyra took a deep, calming breath.
Fear is a luxury.
It was