like Alexiya. The two stared at each other, and Tristan was struck by the thought of Veronyka in the future, as beautiful as Alexiya, with braided hair trailing down her back, shimmering with twice as many trophies and symbols of excellence as Alexiya had.
And in that vision, she wore a crown.
Alexiya tilted her head a fraction of an inch, and then, to Tristan’s surprise, she smiled.
“I will lead the villagers to safety. Give pursuit, if you can,” Alexiya said, as Ximn came to land next to her. The soldiers had mostly scattered at this point, apparently unwilling to face off against the three Phoenix Riders, not to mention the growing flames. “But focus your attention on the fires. We need to smother the flames.”
She leapt into the saddle, and Ximn took to the sky to hover in front of them.
Smother the flames? Tristan frowned and cast a curious look at Veronyka, who looked equally puzzled.
Alexiya’s lips twisted into a sardonic smile. “Baby Riders,” she muttered, somewhat indulgently. “Trust your bondmates—they’ll know what to do.”
Then she was off, calling out for the villagers to follow her, Ximn glowing faintly to light the way.
Veronyka and Tristan directed their phoenixes away from the villagers, keeping a wary eye out for soldiers who might have tried to circle around, but there were none. The fires burned so bright now that there were few places to hide, and the heat was sweltering.
It took all the strength Tristan possessed to fly into the flames instead of away from them, but he trusted his mental safe house and he trusted Veronyka, flying a few paces in front. It occurred to him that as patrol leader, he should be the one leading the charge. Maybe Veronyka recognized that facing fire like this would be hard for Tristan. Or maybe leadership was her natural state. It was in her blood, after all.
When they drew close to the heart of the nearest fires—the burning houses—Rex slowed down, copying Xephyra, and told Tristan to dismount through the bond.
Rex—what do you mean? Tristan asked, remaining in the saddle just long enough for Rex to try to buck him off impatiently. “Okay, okay,” Tristan muttered, sliding off his phoenix’s back and stumbling to the ground.
Saddle, Rex pressed, and Tristan hurried forward to fumble with the straps, just as Veronyka did beside him. As soon as the leather seat was off his back, Rex took to the air once more.
Tristan and Veronyka stood and watched, dumbfounded, as Rex and Xephyra flew into the burning, blistering flames. Yes, they were phoenixes—they could make fire hotter than this—but that came from their own bodies. This was harder to watch—harder to understand.
When Rex disappeared into the molten blue center of a nearby fire, Tristan took an unconscious step forward—something he never thought he’d be able to do. But to see Rex vanish like that… Tristan’s heart thudded and his breath grew thin.
But as he watched, the fire diminished, its licking flames shrinking, drawing in on themselves, until Tristan could see Rex again. He was in the center of it all, but rather than seeing the fire explode outward from his feathers—as Tristan had seen time and time again—Rex was drawing the fire inward. He was absorbing it, making it a part of himself, and then stifling its power.
Xephyra was doing the same to another smoldering fire, and Tristan and Veronyka shared a look of complete and utter wonder.
“I didn’t know a phoenix could do that,” Veronyka said, her voice oddly hushed—as if they were in the presence of something divine and miraculous.
Maybe they were.
“Neither did I.”
* * *
By the time they’d put out the fires, the sky was lightening to the east. Alexiya stood watch outside the bunker, which apparently was a common element in Arborian tree villages.
“In case of fire,” Alexiya had explained, showing the large, underground cavern built into a hillock, rather spacious and filled with chairs, blankets, and old supplies.
They led the villagers north, through the trees and toward Vayle. Many of them wanted to return to their homes to scavenge for belongings, and some cried about missing pets or even family members. Veronyka’s eyes were wide and pleading, but it was too dangerous to go back. They didn’t know if the soldiers in the trees were alone, or possibly just the vanguard or forward scouts of a larger force. There were too many unknowns.
Still, when they reached the edge of the Silverwood and Latham—currently patrolling the village perimeter—descended, Tristan glanced back over his