Fury simmered within her, impotent and with nowhere to go, like a lidded pot trying to boil over. There was no relief for her, no calming this storm.
Before Veronyka mounted Xephyra, she turned to face the commander. She wanted to scream at him, tear him down for gambling his son’s life and negotiating her future.
But then she looked at him, truly looked at him, and the words died on her tongue. He appeared utterly defeated, his shoulders slumped, his face gaunt and colorless. And his eyes… they glittered with unshed tears.
Veronyka realized that she couldn’t be the indignant child any longer—the apprentice or new recruit who raged at the injustices of the world and blamed the commander for her poor circumstances.
She had to show strength. She had to help carry this burden.
She had to lead.
* * *
They took to the sky, Xephyra flying close to Rex, snapping at his heels and ensuring he didn’t turn back around. Veronyka rode rigid in the saddle, gripping her reins relentlessly tight.
When she was certain Rex was under control, Veronyka nudged Xephyra to slow her pace and veer past the tower—just long enough to see Tristan thrown into a wagon. Just long enough to see that, to Veronyka’s surprise and immense relief, he wasn’t as alone as she’d thought.
Fallon had flown ahead as the negotiations inside the pavilion came to a close, hoping to intercept the coming reinforcements—Tristan’s patrol. He’d found them just outside the city limits and flagged Veronyka, Cassian, Beryk, and Alexiya to land. They stopped to rest for a while and regroup, then planned to fly directly to the Eyrie to figure out their next moves.
The phoenixes needed a break even more than the humans; they’d flown overnight into a surprise battle and now had to undertake another long journey back home again.
Rex, however, was riled up again and refused to settle. Tristan’s patrol and their mounts crowded around, trying to calm him, but it was no good. He leapt and screeched at any phoenix or human who got too close, sending clouds of sparks puffing into the air.
Veronyka had been drinking water, trying to put herself together again, but she dropped her flask and pushed forward.
Xephyra beat her to it, taking up a defensive stance in front of Rex and forcing the other phoenixes to clear off. Tristan’s patrol backed away too, turning to find Veronyka in their midst. They wore frowns and worried expressions, and Veronyka wondered what—if anything—Fallon had told them.
They craned their necks to look past her, where Cassian was conversing in low tones with Beryk, Fallon, and Alexiya. Veronyka realized they were looking for Tristan, waiting for an explanation, and her gut clenched at the prospect of telling them the truth.
They rounded on her. “Where is he?” Lysandro asked. “Where is Tristan?”
Veronyka shook her head. “He… Rolan has him.”
Anders and Ronyn wore matching looks of shock, but it was Latham who spoke.
“Are you kidding me?” he demanded, his face livid. “We fly all the way to Ferro for you, a turncoat apprentice, and now Tristan’s the one in danger? We shouldn’t have come here,” he said scathingly, moving to turn away.
Veronyka’s hand shot out and gripped him by the front of his tunic, yanking him back in front of her and pulling his face down to her level.
He looked shocked at first, even offended, until his eyes met hers and he sensed something dark in her, something terrible. His face paled, and he stopped struggling against her hold. Anders, Ronyn, and Lysandro gaped at them, but made no move to intervene.
“Do you think there’s even the slightest chance that you’re more heartbroken than me?” she asked, her voice quivering with rage. “Do you think I wouldn’t take his place in an instant if I had a choice?”
Veronyka released him with a shove, then realized that the commander’s group had joined theirs and that everyone was staring at her.
“But Commander,” said Latham shakily, glancing her way before turning his attention back to Cassian. “What happened?”
The commander looked around, and every face stared back, awaiting his answer. “There was an… exchange.”
“We exchanged Tristan for her?” Latham asked in outrage. “Why?”
The commander’s eyes flicked in her direction, and Veronyka answered for him. “Because I am Veronyka Ashfire, heir to the Golden Empire’s throne, and I’m a far more valuable bargaining piece.”
She couldn’t help the bitterness in her words, but they were true all the same. She met their shocked reactions with cool