The wind was knocked from her lungs, and as she struggled to her feet, she saw the chalk line underneath her.
She’d been tossed from the ring. Veronyka let her head fall back to the ground, her eyes squeezed shut.
Zero for six.
* * *
Later, Veronyka took out her frustration in the saddle. It was what she did most nights when she couldn’t sleep.
As an apprentice, she was supposed to sleep in the barracks inside the stronghold, and Xephyra inside the Eyrie. That separation was a part of Rider training, meant to strengthen the bond over distance, but Veronyka hated it. She always slept better next to Xephyra and had tried to sleep inside the Eyrie more than once, but was usually shooed off by Ersken, who did late-evening and early-morning rounds. Veronyka and Tristan often spent time at night on the ledge outside his rooms, cleaning armor or just hanging out with their bondmates. One time Veronyka accidentally fell asleep there after Tristan had gone in to bed, and it hadn’t been Ersken who’d discovered her, but the commander himself. His suspicious look—and curious glance at his son’s closed door—told her she’d better get out of there quick and avoid such a run-in in the future. People already gave them strange looks for their close friendship, which had begun when she was a stable boy and now culminated with her being a girl, an apprentice with a full-grown mount, and his underwing. She didn’t need the rumor that she slept outside his door like a lovesick puppy dog added to the mix.
Veronyka had slept in the barracks ever since, and instead focused on strengthening her bond to Xephyra, particularly pushing their ability to communicate. Not only did they constantly test their range, but Veronyka also pushed her phoenix to use words when communicating rather than just thought and feeling. It was partly to keep their link strong and secure while they were separated, but also because of what had happened with Val after Xephyra’s death. It sickened Veronyka to know that not only had Val manipulated Veronyka’s connection to her bondmate to control Xephyra, but that Veronyka herself hadn’t felt Xephyra’s return because she’d blocked all thoughts of her phoenix to ease her own pain. If she’d been open, if their bond had been stronger and their ability to communicate more honed… maybe Veronyka would have known about Xephyra’s resurrection sooner.
They practiced all day, sending words to each other whenever they were apart—eating or sleeping or distracted by other things—but the best test of their bond always came when they practiced together. Exercises like the obstacle course Tristan had done to finish out his apprenticeship were such an example, but Veronyka wasn’t there yet in her training. Besides, she and Xephyra both preferred flying.
Veronyka waved to the perimeter guards and the Rider on patrol—currently Beryk—but everyone was well used to her late-night flights by now. She and Xephyra soon arrived at their destination, a practice course called Soth’s Fury. The series of caves were filled with tight, narrow spaces that tested a Rider’s ability to maneuver at high speeds, and they’d installed targets throughout to make a challenging run for any would-be warrior to hit them with arrow or spear.
Veronyka loved Soth’s Fury, and she and Xephyra were getting better and better at navigating its darkest depths.
Ready? Veronyka asked as they approached the mouth of the caves.
Xephyra didn’t reply so much as give a surge of excitement and adrenaline. An obvious yes, but Veronyka pushed her to communicate more clearly.
Words, Xephyra, Veronyka pressed.
Xephyra huffed beneath her. Aeti, she said at last.
Veronyka rolled her eyes, fighting back a grin. Whenever Xephyra grew tired of Veronyka’s constant pushing, she rebelled. In this instance, choosing to reply in ancient Pyraean rather than common Trader’s Tongue.
You think this is funny? Veronyka asked, going for stern but not quite managing it. There was no hiding your emotions from your own bondmate, after all.
Sia, Xephyra replied smugly. That was a northern Arborian dialect that she’d picked up from Anders, who sang old Arborian songs to the other Riders and translated them for anyone who’d listen. Most people didn’t, but apparently Xephyra did.
Are you finished? Veronyka asked, the gaping mouth of the entrance drawing steadily nearer.
Verro. That was… Ferronese, maybe? How Xephyra had picked that up, Veronyka had no idea. She couldn’t help it; she laughed as they dove down into the dark.