and took up her bow and arrow, pointing the steel head directly at Veronyka.
“How about now?” Val asked, looking at Veronyka once more.
Veronyka clenched her fists and took a step forward—but not toward the soap and water. Toward Sidra.
Five more steps and Sidra’s arrow was pointed directly between Veronyka’s eyes. Her heart beat wildly in her chest, but she refused to let the fear take hold.
Instead Veronyka stared at the woman, daring her to do what Veronyka knew she could not. Sidra had hardly reacted to Veronyka’s approach, except to tighten her grip on the bow, but now she angled her head to Val, a question in her eyes.
Val hesitated, and Veronyka spoke into the silence.
“You need me,” she said evenly. “An arrow through the head—or the arm or the leg, for that matter—would make me a bit unappealing for my betrothed, don’t you think? Wouldn’t want to look like a ‘back-alley brawler,’ would I?”
Val’s nostrils flared, and she closed the distance between them. She was inches from Veronyka’s face, her next words whispering across Veronyka’s cheek and stirring her hair.
“Stand down, Sidra,” Val said, though she continued to stare at Veronyka.
Veronyka remained perfectly still. The words were what she’d wanted, but something in Val’s cool, unruffled demeanor told Veronyka that she hadn’t won this battle.
“And take your bow to the phoenix’s cell instead.”
All the breath disappeared from Veronyka’s lungs. How could she have forgotten? She was not here alone.
Xephyra—behave, Veronyka said desperately through the bond, flashing a mental image of what was to come. Xephyra bristled but edged backward, into the depths of the cave.
Veronyka should have known this would happen, that Val would resort to the same tactics over and over to get what she wanted. Veronyka considered trying to shake Val’s hold on Sidra again, but shadow magic or not, Sidra would obey.
Sidra disappeared down the stairs, and Veronyka stared after her, muscles tensed as if she meant to follow, but she knew she could not.
Val stepped even closer, the fabric of her tunic brushing against Veronyka’s arm.
“One false move—one toe out of line, and I’ll have an arrow through your bondmate’s heart,” Val said, voice soft. “It would give me pleasure, and there would be no coming back from it. No bones, no pyre. Do we understand each other?”
Veronyka swallowed thickly, still staring into the empty doorway, though her eyes were unseeing. She was with Xephyra now, ears ringing as she saw Sidra approach the phoenix’s cage through their bond. Xephyra ruffled her feathers and cowered back even more, but there was nowhere to hide, and Sidra’s arrow was nocked and ready.
“Yes,” Veronyka choked out.
“Good,” Val said, and Veronyka could hear the smile in her voice.
Refusing to look at it, she snatched the cloth and soap from Val’s hand and crouched over the nearest bucket.
Movements jerky with impotent rage, Veronyka began scrubbing at her skin and hair.
Val strolled over to the wall, leaning against it and watching with lazy, hooded eyes. “I told you before, loving them is weakness.”
Veronyka paused. Distilled in those four words was everything that was wrong with Val.
In this life, anyway. Veronyka knew from experience—from the time she’d spent in Val’s memories—that her beliefs hadn’t always been this way.
“You loved her,” Veronyka said quietly.
“What?” Val said, straightening from her repose.
“You loved your sister, Pheronia. You loved my mother.”
Veronyka had been lathering the soap in her hands. When she looked up, Val stalked toward her so quickly that Veronyka barely had time to flinch before Val slapped the bar of soap from her grip; it dropped into the nearest water bucket with a soft plunk.
“Yes, Veronyka,” she snarled. “I loved her, and look what happened.”
“She’s not the reason you died,” Veronyka said reasonably, wary of Val’s angry face leaning over hers. “Loving Pheronia didn’t make you lose the war.”
“Are you naive, or just stupid?” Val snapped, turning away in disgust. She began to pace. “If I didn’t love her, I’d have done away with her, just like I did her foul, scheming mother. Instead I let her live, and everything I’d worked for my entire life went to pieces. Love is the force that halts a blade and conflicts a heart. Love is the veil that obscures the truth, that turns all the world to darkness until it’s too late to see the light. Until you watch your sister die from your own arrow and the anguish of it consumes you.”
A heavy silence followed Val’s words. They had been strong, terrible words, but