stared at the bird, then at Veronyka, and she knew she looked hardly better than Sparrow.
“What’s this, now?” said Beryk, rounding the side of the wagon. Veronyka froze. She hadn’t thought this through. She’d only meant to protect Sparrow—the last thing she wanted was to be seen as a thief or a troublemaker by the man who might be able to make her dreams come true.
Without another word, Veronyka pulled Sparrow’s arm and marched her through the crowd, Chirp following behind. She glanced over her shoulder, but they weren’t pursued. It was probably obvious by their lack of possessions that they hadn’t actually stolen anything. Still, Veronyka’s insides twisted. Had she just ruined her chance with the steward?
“You stood up for me,” Sparrow said as they came to a stop in the outskirts of the market. She reached absently for Chirp, who landed in her palm. She gazed down at him, patting his head, her brow furrowed. “No one ever stands up for Sparrow and Chirp.”
“Oh,” Veronyka said, her thoughts still on her next move. The girl’s words were so frank and earnest that a pang pierced Veronyka’s chest. “It was nothing. You’ve been really nice and helpful. Chirp, too,” she added, and Sparrow beamed.
“The steward’s staying at the cookhouse for the night,” she said, clearly determined to continue being helpful. She pointed over Veronyka’s shoulder, where Beryk was delivering the wagon to the hostler at the attached inn. Elliot had already disappeared to visit his sister and the relatives she was staying with. “Want me to get you into his rooms? I know the servant passages.”
“No,” Veronyka said sharply, afraid Sparrow would run off and get them into more trouble. She didn’t need to accost the man while he ate, or barge into his private room, as Sparrow suggested. The steward said he was leaving at dawn, and Veronyka would just have to be there when he did. She wouldn’t let him leave this village without getting some answers. “I’ll just wait out here until morning.”
To Veronyka’s surprise, Sparrow stayed with her.
When the market closed and the sun began to set, Sparrow begged a free dinner for both of them at the cookhouse back door. The endless tendrils of smoke issuing from the domed roof reminded Veronyka unpleasantly of Xephyra’s pyre, and just like that, the memories pressed in on her, sudden and suffocating. The dark, malignant glint in Val’s eyes, the dense smell of boiling vegetables, and the choked sound of Xephyra’s last labored breaths. The stillness of her body and how quickly it had gone up in flames.
Thinking of her bondmate was like being punched in the stomach, and Veronyka took a great shuddering breath. She couldn’t afford to go to pieces every time Xephyra popped into her mind. Val thought Veronyka was incapable of moving forward—incapable of surviving—without her help, and Veronyka refused to prove her sister right.
She knew what she had to do, even if it felt like betrayal to do so. Veronyka swallowed, her throat thick. Mere hours ago, Xephyra had been a source of strength, a part of her very being. Now her bondmate was a source of despair. How could Veronyka move forward if she carried the weight of the dead with her?
Veronyka closed her eyes and steadied her breath. She could never forget Xephyra, not truly, but she could make her memory harder to find. She’d learned the technique from Val, or rather, because of Val. It was hard to keep secrets from a sister like her, but Veronyka had figured out a few tricks.
There was a way of walling things off in her mind—hiding them from conscious thought, so that people like Val, who had shadow magic, couldn’t easily find them. Veronyka had never tried to hide things from herself, but it was worth a shot.
She visualized an empty, dusty corner of her mind—far in the back, out of sight, and easily forgotten. There she would hide Xephyra away.
Just for now, she told herself, hating the cold necessity of it and the way it reminded her of Val. Just for now.
Carefully, like a collector with her most delicate and prized possessions, Veronyka gathered every fond memory and happy feeling she had of her bondmate: Xephyra’s hatching, her first wobbly flight, and the comforting warmth of her feathers. Veronyka experienced each moment of joy one last time, then put them inside that dark corner. She thought of it like a mental safe house, tucked away and concealed, but not truly gone.