The enemy soldiers had already been dealt with, so this fire was for friends and allies alone.
It had taken the better part of two days to gather enough wood and for the taxed priest and acolytes—busy helping the healer—to perform last rites and prayers. For some, local family was summoned from nearby villages.
They stood in a semicircle just outside the village gate, where the obstacle course had been. The once-grassy plain was now a desolate field of scorched earth and upturned soil, and the scent of smoke mingled with new boards of wood and fresh paint as they tried to rebuild what was lost.
But not all things could be so easily replaced.
Xoe was the last to be placed on the pyre, her red-purple feathers dull in the evening light. Ersken did the honors, and when he stepped back into the crowd, he put a hand on Sparrow’s shoulder, who had laid Chirp onto the heap just moments before.
Sev was there, shoulder still heavily bandaged, along with Morra and her kitchen maids, Jana and the stablehands, and Beryk and the rest of the Riders. Elliot was allowed to attend as well, standing at the back of the crowd with a guard on either side of him, his head bowed.
Veronyka was off to the side, feeling a bit like an intruder. She hadn’t known any of the people who had died, but she’d recognized their names and faces. Captain Flynn hadn’t made it, and neither had one of the smiling washerwomen or the metalworker’s apprentice. One after another they blurred together, and she regretted not having made the effort to get to know them. But that was the nature of life and loss: There was never enough time.
The priest spoke a few words, but Veronyka hardly listened. It was the wind she heard most of all, like a mother’s caress, brushing her hair from her forehead and murmuring comforts into her ears.
At the end of his prayers, the priest finished with the phrase, “May their eternal flames burn bright.”
Everyone repeated the words, and Commander Cassian touched the lit torch he’d been holding to the edge of the pyre. Tristan stood next to him, stoic and respectful.
The flames licked across the dry kindling, the dead finally free to be carried into the sky, where their spirits would burn forever like candles in the dark.
Veronyka’s vision began to blur, turning the fire into shimmering, dancing light. She knew it was useless to fight the tears, so she let them flow, giving her a release she hadn’t realized she’d needed.
She cried for Sparrow, who’d lost a part of herself, and for Xoe, who burned with enough bones to bring her back, but who might decide she’d rather stay among the stars.
She cried for all the people she did know, and for the people she didn’t. She even cried for Val, her once sister, whom she felt she’d lost for good. She cried for her maiora and for the knowledge that Veronyka had no family left, that even the one she’d thought she’d had wasn’t hers at all.
But then a warm hand slipped into hers, large and strong, and Veronyka was startled to find Tristan standing next to her. In his face was a question, and Veronyka nodded, swiping at her eyes with her other hand. She would be okay.
He gave her hand a squeeze—but didn’t let go. Instead he turned and faced the fire with her.
Some families you were born into. Others you made along the way.
A feast was held that night. Commander Cassian put a stop on all repairs inside the stronghold and the village and gathered everyone in the dining hall, workers and guards and apprentices alike. It was like a second solstice festival celebration, with plenty of food and drink and music.
While everyone was seated, the commander announced that the Riders would be accepting new recruits. He didn’t mention who those recruits would be, or how many, but the news was enough to raise everyone’s spirits. While no Riders had been killed during the attack or the diversions, several had been wounded, and of course, they’d lost two of the female phoenixes. They needed whatever good news they could get.
The commander didn’t mention Veronyka—either her position as one of the new recruits or the fact that she was a girl in disguise. Maybe he wanted to give her the chance to do it, or maybe he thought it would detract from the hopeful tidings he’d just shared. More recruits, more Riders—that’s what mattered.
Veronyka ate with Morra, who was actually sitting in the dining hall and not working all night in the kitchens as usual. At first she’d been shy to be alone with the cook, afraid Morra might hold Veronyka’s lies against her despite standing up for her right to train as a female Rider. But she’d seemed more impressed than angry, declaring that the only other person who could talk circles around her had been Avalkyra Ashfire. Veronyka had smiled uneasily and changed the subject.
With the completion of the funeral rites, everyone began to look to the future. While the Riders had survived the attack, their existence on Pyrmont was no longer a secret. Hatred for the empire simmered among the inhabitants of the Eyrie, who wanted vengeance for lost loved ones and ruined livelihoods, and most believed Commander Cassian was too much of a politician to strike back against their enemies. While Veronyka worried about what was to come, she marveled at the fact that, finally, she would be a real part of it.
As the drinking and celebrating went late, Veronyka left the dining hall, reaching out to Xephyra. She found her dozing happily in the Eyrie, a fully healed Rex by her side. Ever since she’d been released from her cage, Xephyra’s entire energy had changed, and her presence in Veronyka’s mind was one of comfort, happiness, and trust. Their bond was growing stronger by the day, and whatever happened, wherever they went from here on out, they’d go there together.
“Tired?” called a voice from behind.
Veronyka slowed her pace, allowing Tristan to catch up with her as she cut a path across the cobblestones.
She took a deep breath and looked up at the starry sky, vast and glimmering, a constant reminder that those she’d lost were always with her. The night breeze slipped across her skin, warmer than it had been in months, and she had what she’d always wanted: a future as a Rider and a place to call home.
“Not even a little bit,” she said, grinning.
“Good,” he said, smiling too and stepping in front of her, walking backward so they could talk face-to-face. “I was hoping you’d be interested in some more practice.”
She frowned. “You mean archery—or the obstacle course?”
“No,” he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. Ersken stood beneath the archway that led into the Eyrie. He held something large in his hands.
A saddle.
Ersken handed it to Tristan and disappeared with a self-satisfied smirk.
“It was mine from when Rex was a bit smaller. So, what do you think?” he asked, trying to gauge Veronyka’s reaction from her openmouthed, stunned silence. “Fancy a proper ride, side by side?”
Somewhere in the Eyrie, Rex and Xephyra stirred from their slumber.
Veronyka beamed at him. Side by side. “Yes.”