had when she’d been with Xephyra. While being around phoenixes strengthened her powers, bonding with one had helped even more.
Before Xephyra, and before Veronyka’s arrival at the Eyrie, she would have to see an animal in order to connect with them and communicate. Now she was able to walk through the dusty room with her eyes closed and sense what horse was behind each door, which cats were slinking in the shadows, and if there were any doves or starlings perched up in the rafters. Birds and mammals were always easiest for her magic to find, reptiles and water creatures the most difficult. Apparently it had to do with the similarity in mind and behavior. The larger the differences between them—like habitat and diet—the more difficult to connect to.
Familiarity helped, too, so Veronyka was able to reach out to the animals inside the stable with the barest thought.
Finding Wind’s stall in her mind, she opened her eyes and slipped inside. Taking a seat on the ground next to him, she patted him gently on the nose as he drifted back to sleep, swaying slightly to the steady rhythm of his breathing.
Helplessness was weighing her down, the sensation familiar after years of Val controlling her life. Now that Veronyka was free from that, she hated the idea of sliding backward into that same futility. After her time training with Tristan, she’d started to feel like she was on the right track, building toward her future, but now? It felt like she was right back where she’d started.
“Nyk?” came a hesitant voice from beyond the door.
Veronyka froze. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be found, but her hiding place wasn’t exactly foolproof. A minute later the door swung open, and Tristan stood there.
“How did you find me?” she asked ruefully.
“I saw you run toward the stables, and then I asked Wind,” he said, glancing at Veronyka’s stall mate, the corner of his mouth quirking. He patted Wind’s hindquarters and sidled into the room, sinking down onto the ground next to her. He leaned against the wall and drew up his knees, resting his elbows on them.
Veronyka scowled at the horse, who blew a dignified puff of air out through his nostrils.
“Don’t you have training right now?” she pressed.
Tristan shrugged. They sat in silence for a moment, then . . .
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she blurted. “Why pretend like you could help me—all that stuff about extra training and sponsorship—when you knew it was never going to happen? Why lie? Did you feel sorry for me or something?”
Tristan dropped his knee and turned to face her. “No, it’s not—it wasn’t like that. And I didn’t lie. I just didn’t bother mentioning it because it’s not never. It’s just not right now.”
“If you don’t have any eggs—”
“We’ll get some,” Tristan said firmly.
Veronyka put her head in her hands. “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”
“You’re helping me,” Tristan said, forcing a smile. “You saw the mess I made during that first obstacle course. If you weren’t there, things might have gone really bad for me . . . and Wind,” he added, reaching up to pat the horse’s wide, barrel chest.
Veronyka tried to smile too, but she just couldn’t muster it.
“We need smart, talented people like you here,” he continued. He was staring resolutely at the ground between them when he added, “I need you here.”
Veronyka swallowed with difficulty, her throat tightening. The surge of happiness she felt at his words was quickly replaced by heavy guilt. He’d trusted her with his darkest secret, and yet she hadn’t reciprocated. But how could she? Tristan hated liars—he’d said there was nothing worse. Sure, he might have skirted the truth about the eggs, but being Nyk every day, Veronyka was living a lie—it colored everything she did, every interaction she had. Veronyka didn’t feel like a boy on the inside—she wasn’t like some of the other children she’d known growing up who might be born as boys or girls but didn’t feel like they fit that category, and so they dressed in a way that felt right to them. That was their truth, no matter what the world saw. But Veronyka wasn’t Nyk; she was Veronyka. Nyk was a lie.
In some ways it would have been easier to tell Tristan the truth before he’d revealed something so personal about himself. Now that they were closer, her lies felt like a bigger betrayal—and the stakes for revealing them felt that much higher. She didn’t want to