This wasn’t just about the commander and his youngest—and newest—patrol leader. This was a father and his son, and Tristan feared for Cassian’s life.
“I’m sorry, Tristan,” Veronyka said, and though she knew she shouldn’t, she trailed her fingertips down the back of his forearm until she found his hand, then laced her fingers with his.
He didn’t look at her, and though it took him a moment to respond, he squeezed tightly.
“It feels like…” He paused, clearing his throat. His voice was stronger as he continued. “It’s like he’s willingly putting himself in danger. He’s being reckless, and of all the words I’d use to describe my father, ‘reckless’ isn’t one of them.”
“Good point,” Veronyka conceded. The commander was cautious almost to a fault. “So then you have your answer,” she said, releasing Tristan’s hand so that she could stand before him.
Tristan frowned. “I do?”
Veronyka shrugged. “Either he’s behaving highly out of character,” she said, her tone skeptical, “or there is something he’s not telling you—something that makes what he’s doing logical.”
Tristan’s brows shot up—he hadn’t considered that. “I suppose that’s a comfort,” he said wryly, but Veronyka could tell her words had eased his worries somewhat. “Now I just need to find a way to get him to tell me. After we fly to Rushlea, he wants a report. I think I’ll deliver it in person.”
“What happens to me once we get to Rushlea?” she asked. It had been on her mind ever since the commander’s letter arrived. The war was indeed heating up, and Veronyka wasn’t a green Master Rider—she was a green apprentice.
“What do you mean?” Tristan asked, trying to sound politely puzzled, but of course Veronyka could see right through it.
She actually laughed a little. “Remember, heart on your sleeve?” she asked, and he gave her a resigned smile before scrubbing the back of his neck.
“He said you should return to the Eyrie, but I’m working on it.”
Veronyka’s heart sank—she couldn’t be sidelined, not now, not when she was finally making some progress. She’d managed to recruit another Phoenix Rider to their side—a war hero. That had to count for something.
“When I deliver my report, I’ll explain that we can’t spare you. I’ll make him see.”
Veronyka didn’t know if he could really pull it off—but she knew he’d try.
“I hope so,” she said. “We’ve got some unfinished business to take care of in Rushlea. I assume your father still has no intention of investigating the Phoenix Rider rumors?”
Tristan shook his head. “Not according to his letter. He’s sticking to his original position—no time, no resources.”
Veronyka nodded. “Then it’s up to us. We’ll escort the refugees to Rushlea, and while we’re there, we’ll pay a visit to another Phoenix Rider on Ilithya’s list.”
Day 27, Second Moon, 169 AE
Dear Lexi,
I’m sure you’ve heard about Queen Lania’s passing. It has been hard for Pheronia—she had a difficult relationship with her mother too.
There are rumors that Avalkyra herself is to blame for the queen’s death. She and Pheronia have hardly spoken in days. I know Pheronia is reluctant to accuse her sister, and some people close to her whisper Avalkyra might be fleeing the capital and taking her Riders with her. If she goes now, it’s not as a princess or even a queen… but as a fugitive. Councilors and politicians are choosing sides left and right.
Think carefully before you do the same.
Whatever happens, I’m still Pheronia’s bodyguard. I swore to protect her with my life, and I won’t let harm come to her—from anyone.
—Theryn
Suddenly I had a reason to
keep fighting. Strength comes from
within…. You taught me that.
- CHAPTER 27 - AVALKYRA
IT WAS SATISFYING TO hear rumors swirl about the Phoenix Rider attack on a merchant caravan in Ferro—but that wasn’t why Avalkyra was here. She and Sidra had stopped in Runnet for news of the other Phoenix Riders, not news of themselves, but Avalkyra supposed that to outsiders they were one and the same.
They heard tales that upward of fifty Riders had descended on the Iron Road, leaving no survivors—glazing over the fact that survivors had certainly been the ones to spread the stories in the first place—and burning what they didn’t steal to arm themselves for more attacks to come.
The truth was that there were only two of them. They’d spared nearly a dozen survivors and had left the entire shipment behind for Rolan’s men to deal with. He was a prudent man, if nothing else, and quite liked the idea of claiming the stolen shipment on his insurance