Veronyka couldn’t do it—couldn’t put words to the thing that was in her heart, the feelings that beat through her with every breath. They were bonded, the two of them, and no matter how hard she fought it, nothing would change that fact. She might as well try to erase her bond with Xephyra or banish the magic that flowed through her veins.
Instead of fumbling her sentiments, Veronyka faced Tristan again. She met his gaze squarely and took his hand in hers too—just to be sure. She knew she was playing with fire, that she was crossing a line she might not be able to come back from, but right now she didn’t care. It was only fair to give Tristan a glimpse of her heart, just as he’d given her.
He frowned at her, wary of her breaking the very rules she herself had put in place, before a look of awe and wonder swept his features. His fingers twitched within her grasp, his face alight with understanding. She didn’t send a specific message—not like she did with Val—and she couldn’t invite him into her mind, either, since he didn’t have shadow magic. Instead she sent him her memories of their first meeting, all those hours on the obstacle course, and the awful moment when Val revealed her lies. She shared her every feeling, how they compounded, expanded and grew, how they were a living thing inside her… just like her bond to him was.
A thousand expressions flickered across his face—surprise, fondness, shock, and even laughter, one after the other, until he started blinking, his focus wavering, clearly overwhelmed by the onslaught of thoughts and emotions. He squeezed her hand tighter, wanting to communicate, but unable to with her grip on his mind.
Veronyka drew herself back from him, closing her eyes and breaking the connection. With an ache, she strengthened the barriers between them and slammed the door shut.
She opened her eyes to find him staring at her. While the tension had left his face, his eyes were soft and clear and lacking any of the uncertainty that had colored them before.
He lifted her hand, still clutched in his, up to his lips and kissed the inside of her wrist. The touch was shocking in its intimacy, his gaze never leaving her face. Veronyka wanted to melt into him and leave the real world far behind.
The world where she was an apprentice and he her sponsor, where he was the commander’s son and a patrol leader… and she was a poor mountain girl. At least, according to everyone else. In truth, she was heir to the empire, but Veronyka was beginning to think that was only going to make things worse.
“Here,” he said, releasing her hand to pick up the small parcel.
Veronyka unwrapped it. Inside was a smooth, sharp object—an obsidian arrowhead. Or at least, half of one.
“It was my mother’s,” Tristan said, nodding down at it. “Apparently it was a Flamesong heirloom tracing all the way back to the First Riders, but my father said that’s impossible to prove. He thinks it’s just nonsense my nursemaid cooked up, which is why he let me take it. It wasn’t packed properly,” he said, lips pursing, “so it broke on the journey to the Eyrie. But now I think on it, I’m glad it split in two.” Reaching into his trouser pocket, Tristan held up the other half, cracked clean down the middle, its point gleaming. “Now we can each have a piece.”
Veronyka was dumbfounded. Speechless. Birthday gifts weren’t a part of her childhood. They’d never had the gold for extravagances, and though her maiora always made sure Veronyka got a sweet cake on the occasion, that tradition had died when Veronyka thought she had.
Of course, now she understood that they weren’t celebrating her real birthday at all and that their yearly pilgrimage to the Nest on the Blood War anniversary was their true tradition. There was usually food and music and games in the square, along with quiet vigils for the dead. Val allowed them to participate in neither. Instead she and Veronyka stood outside the castle gates, staring up at its soaring peaks. Though the royal residential wing had been uninhabited since the Blood War, the Nest was still the center of the Golden Empire’s government. It was a bustling compound filled with politicians and administrators carrying out their daily business in the same halls that had once held Ashfire kings and queens.