head resting against the stone wall and his legs stretched out before him. Her concerns were valid. His father was cautious almost to the point of inaction, though Tristan knew in his heart that Commander Cassian was no coward. He did things for a reason, but he rarely let people in on those calculations. They were too limited in number to strike back at the empire—at least in the military sense—but surely there were other things to be done. They could recruit foot soldiers or hire mercenaries, set up a border defense or take residence in one of the remaining outposts from before the war. Their existence now felt like the taut string on a drawn bow, and Tristan wanted to be ready when the arrow was loosed.
But of course, Tristan also knew that when the time came, the commander would be unlikely to allow new recruits to join in the fighting. Unless the circumstances were dire, like the surprise attack on the Eyrie. Ten fully trained Riders were more potent than fifteen untrained, and the more practice and experience the apprentices got before their next battle, the more likely that they would survive beyond it.
“Well, like you said, nothing’s happening, which means there’s still time.”
This didn’t seem to please her. He supposed it was small consolation, the kind of assurance his father had given him over and over again as he strove to rise in the Rider ranks.
The kind of reassurance Tristan had hated too.
“It’s not just that,” Veronyka said, staring down at her hands where they sat in her lap. “Why did you hold back during the last match?”
“So you are mad at me,” Tristan said, and she didn’t contradict him. “I…,” he began, searching for words. He’d expected this from her, but he still didn’t know what to say. “I’m not exactly sure.”
She cast him a pointed look, crossing her arms, and he knew he’d have to do better than that.
He cleared his throat. “I was tired, and everyone was watching, and…”
“Were you trying to make it easier for me?” she asked, agitation coloring her voice. “Were you trying to let me win?”
“No, I never intended—I wasn’t thinking. I just hesitated for a sec—”
“You didn’t think I could win, did you?” she demanded angrily. “You thought I was destined to lose, and you didn’t want to embarrass me in front of everyone, so you went easy on the poor, incompetent girl.”
“No! I didn’t go easy on you,” Tristan said at once. “I know that I hesitated,” he added quickly, “but I fought hard before that. And I didn’t hold back because you’re a girl,” he said, hurt that she’d think so little of him. “It was because you’re you.”
Her rage faltered. “What do you mean? I don’t want special treatment.”
Tristan looked away from her, heat crawling up his cheeks. He was glad it was dark. “I knew how much you wanted to win—how hard you’ve been working. And I guess that compromised me.” She continued to stare at him, uncomprehending, so he plowed on. “I know you don’t want special treatment, but you are special—to me.”
Her lips parted, but no words came out. She turned away, looking toward Xephyra and Rex, who were huddled together several feel away. Both their glows had dimmed; the only light came from the lanterns hung on regular intervals along the walkway, and the distant, icy stars.
When she finally did speak, her voice was soft, a whisper across his skin. “The thing is… you’ve always hated the way your father treated you differently. Good or bad… it feels like you’re protecting me. But that’s not—that’s not why I’m here. That’s not what I want from you.”
What do you want? Tristan was desperate to ask, but he was afraid of the answer. They’d spent hours alone together since the battle for the Eyrie, when her secrets were laid bare and they had grown closer to each other. But once the dust settled, nothing more had happened between them. And he wanted it to. He hated when they were apart and couldn’t wait until she graduated and joined his patrol. They were short one Rider, and Tristan had yet to name a second-in-command. That position was Veronyka’s, and it would be waiting for her whenever she was ready.
Tristan wanted her by his side always. Did she not want the same?
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, avoiding her gaze.
She nodded, though it seemed more in resignation than anything else. “Latham’s always saying how you favor me, and