I know, Veronyka said, nudging back. She needed to face him sooner or later.
Tristan dismounted several feet away. He looked a bit stiff from his day in bed, but he’d at least had the forethought to saddle his mount.
“You shouldn’t be flying,” Veronyka said as soon as he approached. “If the commander knew—”
“What the commander doesn’t know won’t kill him,” he said shortly, putting aside his reins.
“Still,” she pressed stubbornly. “You could have fallen.”
Rex snorted indignantly, as if offended that Veronyka would suggest he’d drop his bondmate twice in the same day.
Sorry, Rex, she said with animal magic. Though phoenix minds were generally closed and well guarded, Rex had opened himself to her many times before—not to mention whatever closeness now bound them thanks to her link to Tristan—and he heard her words. He huffed and relaxed his stance, and when Xephyra fluttered over to him, Tristan edged toward Veronyka.
He was smiling as he glanced back at his bondmate, but when he turned to Veronyka, his expression faltered.
He settled warily onto the ground next to her.
Veronyka held her breath. She wanted to run, to hide, to pretend the last few hours had never happened.
“I…,” Tristan began. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Then why are you here?” she said, surprised at the hardness in her words. She leapt to her feet, not wanting him to see the pain in her face. He scrambled after her, and a hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. She prepared to wrench herself free, reminded for a terrible moment of Val, of the way she’d pinch and squeeze and grip Veronyka until she bent to Val’s will, like hot metal under a metalsmith’s hammer.
Instead she shoved him, and he released her.
“Veronyka, please,” he said. He didn’t move to block or touch her again. He just waited, hand still outstretched.
Veronyka expelled a breath through her nostrils and looked at him. There were tears sparkling in his eyes, his expression anguished. His fingers twitched and trembled, as if he wanted to touch her again. Instead he stepped toward her, asking, hopeful, but fearful of rebuke.
Veronyka’s own vision swam. She squeezed her eyes shut and stopped resisting. She fell into his arms, where he held her gently for a heartbeat before sighing and squeezing her tight. She thought of Val again. For all her dragging and pulling and demanding, all the ways their bodies had come into contact—and conflict—with each other over the years, Val had never given herself to Veronyka like this. Never offered herself at all. With Val, everything was take, take, take.
“I’m so sorry,” Tristan whispered, his voice thin. His head dipped when he spoke, his chin pressed into the crook of her neck.
“I’m sorry too,” Veronyka choked out.
“Please, don’t,” Tristan said, somewhat harshly. He drew back slightly and shook his head. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I can’t believe how selfish I am.”
“You’re not,” Veronyka began, but stopped when Tristan released his grip on her arms. He lowered himself onto his left knee, his right hand pressed against his heart.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, looking wildly around, but except for their bondmates, they were very much alone. “Tristan, stop,” she ordered, tugging his arm, trying to pull him to his feet. Was this what he thought she wanted, for him to bow before her?
He resisted, his features grave. “This isn’t because you’re heir to the throne and far, far outrank me,” he said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips before he grew serious once more. “It’s because this is what you deserve—what you’ve always deserved.”
“It’s not about being beneath you,” he said calmly. “It’s about loyalty.”
“Loyalty? What are you—” Veronyka froze, her eyes rounding as realization dawned. She stared at him again, at the left knee and right hand against his chest. He wasn’t just kneeling…. He was swearing an oath. It was a gesture from ancient Pyra, a ceremony of fealty between Riders. Those who were on a patrol together would kneel before one another—no matter their rank or status. Queens knelt to their subjects, and patrol leaders to their second-in-commands. Val had described the custom to Veronyka in exquisite detail. Not because she loved or admired it, but because she loathed it.
Of course, Val had never known what it was to trust another person. It required a leap of faith, a risk.