She clenched her jaw and reinforced her walls, burying both the good and the bad.
If Veronyka had come here with her bondmate, she could be an apprentice, like Tristan. Not a servant. Not a boy.
She could be herself.
“You can pet him, if you like,” Tristan offered with a slight frown, as if he were trying to puzzle out her bizarre expression.
Veronyka hesitated, thinking about her future among the Riders. Could she really bond anew, with Xephyra still living in her heart? Could she still love the same way?
But as her gaze lit on Rex, some of the pain and anxiety disappeared from her mind—like the night’s last shadows banished by the sun.
She rested a hand on the phoenix’s neck. Rex stood tall and proud, his feathers almost hot to the touch, and softer than she’d have expected since he was full grown. While Veronyka could speak into the mind of any animal she chose, phoenixes were the only ones that had the ability to block that access—thanks to their own magic. But after a moment Rex opened himself to her, slowly and deliberately, like a flower beginning to bloom.
Veronyka’s fears all but evaporated. Yes, she could move forward. Xephyra would always be with her, and bonding with one of her brothers or sisters wouldn’t be a betrayal. Taking them into her heart would be like honoring Xephyra’s memory, not abandoning it.
Focusing on Rex, she marveled at his calm, self-assured nature. He was clearly the stable counterbalance to Tristan’s easy frustration, but the longer she remained connected to him, the more she understood that while he often calmed his bondmate, he was capable of peaks and valleys of his own. He had arrogance and a powerful temper, but humor as well.
Tristan watched them closely, and she wondered what he could sense of their interaction through his bondmate—if anything. The lines between shadow magic and regular animal magic were often difficult to discern, and mysterious at the best of times.
Coming to stand next to her, Tristan ran his hand along Rex’s neck.
“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?” he said, eyes on the scarlet feathers underneath his fingers, and not on her face.
“Say what?” Veronyka asked.
“You were right,” he said, dropping his hand and looking down at her. He sighed heavily, as if it pained him deeply to admit it. “I’ve been thinking about it all day, and when I tried it, just now . . . You were right about the animals, about the way we control them.”
Veronyka smiled, patting Rex once more before repacking their waterskins into Wind’s saddlebag.
Tristan crossed his arms over his chest. His face was almost impossible to see in the darkness.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he asked.
Her smile grew wider before she forced it down and turned to face him. “Only a little.”
He laughed, the sound as soft as a whisper across her skin. “Were your family Riders, then?” he asked, slinging his bow and arrows over his shoulder as they continued to pack up. “You seem to know a lot about animal magic.”
“I learned it all from my grandmother, who was a Phoenix Rider. My parents were, too, but I don’t remember them.”
They were walking toward the village now, the soft thump of the horse’s hooves and the steady pant of the dog at their feet almost lost in the swish of the grass in the evening breeze. Rex soared overhead, his warm glow like the last dregs of daylight on Veronyka’s upturned face.
“You’d be a good Rider,” Tristan said.
Veronyka’s head jerked around. “What?”
Tristan glanced at her and shrugged. “You would.”
Veronyka’s chest was suddenly tight. “But your father—the commander—said you’re not recruiting.”
“Is that all he said?”
Veronyka frowned. What did that mean? “Well, he also said that training costs money . . . that he couldn’t have poor peasant lads bonding with phoenixes but then unable to afford proper training.”
Tristan sighed. “It’s one of the first things I’d change if it were up to me.”
“What is?” Veronyka asked, her racing thoughts causing her to lose track of the conversation.
“You shouldn’t have to be rich, or sponsored, to be a Rider. Plus, we should let girls join. It would double our numbers right out the gate.”
Veronyka fought to keep her face neutral, though his words caused a tingle of heat to creep up her cheeks. “I don’t understand the rule against girls to begin with,” she said in what she hoped was an offhand voice.
Tristan shrugged. “It was practicality at first. When we began