Smiling her most beautiful, most terrifying smile, Val raised the dagger and pointed it at him. “If I see you again, empire rat, there won’t be words between us. Only this knife. And just like this time, you won’t see it coming. Not even a sweet story from my sister will save you. That’s a promise.”
The boy bowed slightly as he nodded his head, then stumbled, looking around for the crossbow his companion had abandoned. He held it out, showing his finger was far from the trigger, before backing into the trees. His footfalls were heavy, uneven things, as if he tried to run forward and look backward at the same time.
After several tense moments, the forest became quiet again.
Val slid the boy’s knife into her belt.
The cabin looked much the same as they’d left it, except that their box of food stores was open, their sleeping pallet turned over, and their ceramic cooking pot was laying on its side, a crack running from the rim to the chipped handle. The soldiers were right: There was nothing of value here.
Val began storing the supplies she’d gotten from her day in Runnet. The village was a few hours south at the edge of the Foothills, a popular stop for valley traders. Veronyka stood in the doorway, her basket of garlic and potatoes in hand, uncertain of what would happen next. The events of the afternoon were finally catching up to her, and her hands shook. The rapid succession of emotions—shock, fear, panic—had now receded, leaving her body an empty, quaking shell, and she had the horrible feeling that the worst of it was yet to come.
Surely Val was angry—surely she had something to say, some reprimand or warning. But her sister only poked at the smoking embers of the fire, placing several pieces of wood on top from the basket near the hearth, and then settled the chipped pot on the edge.
“Close the door, Veronyka,” she said without looking her sister’s way. The words were simple, direct—and yet the hairs on the back of Veronyka’s neck rose.
She took her time, mentally calling Xephyra in from outside, hoping that Val’s preoccupation would allow her bondmate to return without notice. As Xephyra flew through the door, some of the anxiety that filled Veronyka’s chest eased. Her sense of safety had been shattered, but as long as she and her bondmate were together, everything would be all right.
Veronyka closed the door behind her as Xephyra fluttered to the ground, poking her curious beak into the contents of their food stores before flitting off again.
Val watched the phoenix, expression unreadable. Then she drew the soldier’s knife from her belt and held it out to Veronyka.
Veronyka frowned, uncertain. Then Val nodded down at the basket of vegetables she’d gathered.
“Careful,” Val said when Veronyka wrapped her fingers around the hilt. “It’s sharp.”
Veronyka didn’t know if it was the lasting tension from the confrontation outside, but the words sounded closer to a threat than a caution. She looked down at the shining blade, its edge catching the waning evening sunlight that filtered through the shutters. She was startled to discover it was stamped with the crossed-dagger symbol that marked it as Ferronese steel, the finest blade money could buy and rare in the mountains. All the best metalworkers came from the province of Ferro, where the iron ore used for steel was mined. The weapon was more suited to a ranking officer than a lowly foot soldier, and it was strange using the instrument of war to cut up vegetables. It was like using a shovel to stir soup.
They prepared their meal in silence. They’d have to talk about the soldier at some point, but Veronyka was in no hurry to broach the topic. It would mean addressing the fact that she—and Xephyra—had left the cabin against Val’s wishes, and it was a fight Veronyka knew she would lose. They might be sisters—equals, in theory—but Val was always in charge. Veronyka was always meant to fall in line behind her, no matter how much Veronyka resented it.
Still, the silence made her uneasy. The only time her sister was ever truly still was when she was plotting.
“I’m going away for a couple of days,” Val announced, stirring the contents of the pot, causing great tufts of steam to swirl about her face.
Going away?
“Where?” Veronyka asked, putting down the knife and scooping up handfuls of vegetables to toss inside. Next to her, Xephyra nibbled at a potato skin, lifting the oversize piece into the air, only to shake her head, spit it out, and try another one.
“To look for another egg. There’s an outpost just outside Vayle; it hasn’t been in use since the Reign of Wisdom, when they relocated to Hightower across the river.”
“But . . . Wise Queen Malka ruled almost a hundred years ago. Do you really think there’ll be eggs there?”
Val shrugged. “Only one way to find out.”
“We should go with you,” Veronyka said, her heart fluttering at the idea of going on a journey, however short.
“You can come,” Val said, “but your phoenix cannot. I won’t compromise our safety as cavalierly as you do.”
Veronyka stared at her hands. They had come to it, her and Xephyra’s disobedience. Rather than await Val’s tirade, Veronyka jumped in and changed the subject.
“Maybe it’s time we moved on anyway,” she said carefully. She might defer to Val, let her make the majority of their decisions, but Veronyka had a brain too—she had opinions and ideas of her own and plans she wanted to make. Veronyka had always wanted to seek out other animages once she and her sister were in Pyra, to try to find friends and allies. Now that they had a phoenix to protect, Veronyka and Val needed those friendships more than ever. “The owner of this cabin could be back at any moment,” Veronyka continued. “Xephyra’s still small, but she’s only going to get bigger. And those soldiers . . . We’re not safe here.”
“I will protect us,” Val said. “I always have, haven’t I?” Her jaw jutted out, as if daring Veronyka to claim otherwise.
“Even if you’re not here?”
Val’s nostrils flared. “If you’d done what I told you to do and stayed inside—”
“I’d probably be dead,” Veronyka snapped. They stared at each other, but Val made no reply. “We don’t have to do this alone,” Veronyka whispered, trying to keep her voice reasonable. “We could look for other animages. We could look for Phoenix Riders.”
“Phoenix Riders?” Val repeated flatly. “There are no Phoenix Riders, Veronyka. The empire slaughtered them all.”
“The Riders maybe, but not the animages. If we can hunt down lost eggs and hatch them, who’s to say that others haven’t done the same? We should travel higher up Pyrmont. The farther we get from the empire, the better.”
“The empire is everywhere, not just on the lower rim. We can’t trust anyone but ourselves.”