it with her. Even a spoiled princess shouldn’t have to suffer such a verse.
Practice your poetry, Theryn, and leave the spear to me.
Lex
Crops and coffers
weren’t my true problem.
Avalkyra Ashfire was.
- CHAPTER 23 - VERONYKA
VERONYKA AND TRISTAN TOOK to the sky the following evening, before the cover of dark. They reasoned that an exiled Rider in recluse might not welcome visitors in the dead of night. This way they weren’t sneaking up on their target but instead announcing themselves as would-be visitors.
Before they left, Tristan explained their errand to his patrol.
As it was, they had one Rider flying the perimeter of the village at all times, and they sent a trivol patrol at regular intervals to do a wider sweep of the area. When it was time for the next three-Rider group to leave, Tristan told Anders that he could sit this one out and that Tristan and Veronyka would handle it. He explained that Veronyka knew the area—having lived nearby—and that they intended to scout additional locations for logging.
Anders shrugged and settled back down on the grass next to the fire, while Latham shook his head. Veronyka knew that even though Anders was the one benefiting from the arrangement, Latham didn’t miss the way Tristan always seemed to break the rules when it came to her. Veronyka sighed. It didn’t matter that she had always tried to be friendly to Latham during their time at the Eyrie or whenever she went out with their patrol; he was plainly uninterested, and probably disliked her for the same reason some of the others did—because she had lied and for her closeness with Tristan. So she brushed it off as best she could, reminding herself that what they were doing was more important than whatever resentment Latham held toward her.
Despite their excuse, Veronyka didn’t know much about the Silverwood and had never actually been there. Luckily, Tristan had a variety of maps of the region, and they were able to quickly chart a course to the southeast.
Veronyka’s hands shook for the entire flight. Her adrenaline was shooting through her veins like lightning. Of all the things that excited her about meeting an exiled Rider, she had to admit that very near the top of the list was the fact that the Rider they sought was a woman. Yes, there were female apprentices among their ranks at the Eyrie now, but Veronyka had never seen a female Master Rider before. Something in her heart caught fire at the idea of meeting someone who truly looked like the ancient queens of old.
Someone who looked like her.
Once they arrived at the edge of the Silverwood, they flew in sweeps, seeking cabins, caves, or any sign of habitation.
Veronyka felt the pressure to hurry; the sun was sinking below the hills in the distance, and soon they’d be unable to discern much in the shadows of the forest.
Out of nowhere, an arrow shaft whizzed past her and Xephyra as they swept low through a clearing. Her heart leapt into her throat as she followed its progress, her neck jerking to the side as it embedded itself into a tree with an echoing thud. Xephyra let out a burst of heat and sparks in response, and as Veronyka twisted in her saddle, looking back, a pair of eyes reflected her phoenix’s light from the darkness of the tree canopy.
Veronyka’s ears were ringing, but she told Xephyra to circle back around. That arrow had been fletched with red and purple feathers. Phoenix feathers. This is who we’re looking for.
Though Veronyka had known this Rider might be an enemy, if she’d truly meant Veronyka harm, that arrow would be embedded in her chest, not a tree. This arrow had been a warning shot meant to draw their attention—not to actually hit them.
Still, her breath was shallow and uneven as she realized how differently things might have turned out, but Tristan was approaching fast—he must have heard the sound of the arrowhead striking the tree—and Veronyka hastened to wave him off, signaling for him to stop his pursuit and slow his pace. She was in no danger. At least, she didn’t think so.
Xephyra landed in the clearing below and Veronyka dismounted, neck craned up at the trees. Tristan landed soon after, mouth set in a tight line, and reached for his bow. Veronyka gripped his arm—then released it at once. Why was it so hard to remember not to touch him? When he looked at her, she shook her head in warning