Veronyka bit her lip. All their lives it had been like this. Veronyka was never allowed to make friends, to attend festivals or walk the city alone. It had gotten worse after their grandmother’s death, but her loss made Veronyka yearn for connection all the more. Val pretended it was about safety, blindly threatening to kill any stranger who crossed her path, but Veronyka knew it was more about control—and she was tired of constantly bowing to Val’s whims.
Yes, the empire was everywhere—they’d just seen the evidence. But just because someone was from the empire didn’t mean they were bad. Veronyka and Val had both been born in the empire, no matter their Pyraean roots, and so had their maiora. She had told them to protect each other—but that didn’t mean living in seclusion and never trusting anyone else ever again.
Trusting that empire soldier had saved her life. If she’d been like Val, blindly threatening to kill any stranger who crossed her path, she’d probably be dead.
There was strength in trust, in unity. They needed to find a place where people like them could be safe and protected. If such a place didn’t exist, they’d have to make it for themselves.
“Call her off,” Val said, interrupting Veronyka’s thoughts. She jerked her chin down at Xephyra, who was picking her way across the floor, burrowing her beak in a pile of shavings.
“What—why? They’re garbage anyway.”
“That’s not the point,” Val snapped, picking up the knife from where it lay on the cutting stone. The air in the cabin stilled, as if all the oxygen had been siphoned from the room.
“She followed you today, left the cabin when you told her not to.”
“Val, nothing happened!” Veronyka lied, her throat tight with dread. She tried to think of what to say, how to talk Val down from her simmering rage, but her mind was a blank haze. “She’s still young. She’s curious, and—”
“She’s almost ready to ride, Veronyka! She’s no fresh hatchling. It’s been weeks since we built that pyre. Look how fast she grows, how much stronger she gets each day. You must rein her in. There may come a time when Xephyra’s obedience is the difference between life and death. You can’t ask her then. You will have to tell her—and she must listen.”
With the knife gripped in one hand, Val drew a pitted date from her pocket with the other, holding it in the center of her palm. Xephyra’s head popped up, drawn to Val’s movement, her eyes fixed on the fruit in the girl’s outstretched hand. Dates were her favorite.
“Val,” Veronyka said sharply, her muscles stiffening as she prepared to stand up. Val took a step backward, putting distance between her and Veronyka, and Xephyra followed.
Powerlessness seized Veronyka, turning her body to lead. Xephyra was just out of reach, yet she might as well have been on the other side of the valley. The phoenix’s attention was turned toward Val, but she soon felt Veronyka’s distress. Xephyra’s black eyes glittered as she swiveled her head, looking from her bondmate to the treat, and then back to Veronyka.
“Just call her off,” Val said calmly, stooping low to offer the date to Xephyra. Veronyka couldn’t take her eyes off the knife in Val’s hand. Dark, dangerous memories flashed before her eyes: Val dragging the dead body of their landlord into the alleyway after they’d missed several months of rent; Val defending them against three men who wanted more than their money, her face exultant and her hands dripping with blood.
“I’m trying,” Veronyka said in a strangled voice, blocking out the haunting images and turning her focus to Xephyra. She slowed her breathing, trying to calm herself and convey meaning to her bondmate, to explain the concept of danger. Xephyra’s response was to send her bright-eyed reassurance: She’d had dates before. They were sweet and delicious, and Val was a familiar sight and sound and smell. Xephyra didn’t understand.
“Don’t explain it to her,” Val said, while Xephyra took another step forward. “Tell her. Command her to step back. Command her to go to you.”
Terror had sunk its teeth into Veronyka, and she tried—but she knew she did it wrong. She was desperate now, afraid and on the verge of tears. She didn’t command; she begged. She pleaded. And all her wild emotions managed to do was cause her phoenix to tilt her head in confusion before edging nearer to Val.
“I can’t!” Veronyka cried out, losing her faith that Val would never do anything to hurt her. “Please, Val—I can’t. I—”
“Order her!” Val yelled.
The words weren’t just words—they were power. Val had used shadow magic on her, the magic she’d never turned on her sister before. For a moment Veronyka thought her body might bend to Val’s will. But the next thing she knew, she was on her knees, reaching, sobbing, tears streaming down her face.
Val straightened up, no longer trying to lure the phoenix toward her. She sighed, her dark eyes filled with disappointment. She tossed the knife onto the cutting stone and dropped the date onto the ground at her feet. Xephyra leapt the last few paces between them and began pecking at it eagerly.
Relief flooded Veronyka’s chest, loosening the tight knot twisted there.
“Val—” she began, but she was interrupted by a retching, spluttering sound. A second later panic seared through the bond, intruding upon her thoughts.
She knocked the cutting stone aside and leapt for Xephyra, but Val got there first, slamming into Veronyka and pushing her backward. Xephyra gagged, opening and closing her beak as she tried to bring up the date. Her feelings were so wild and insistent that Veronyka couldn’t tell which thoughts were hers and which belonged to the phoenix. As Veronyka struggled against Val, sorting through her clouded mind, she finally made sense of what was happening. Xephyra wasn’t choking on the date; it wasn’t lodged in her throat, obstructing her airway. She’d already swallowed it. So why was she struggling to breathe?
“You poisoned her,” Veronyka gasped, unable to believe it even as she knew it must be true. She stared wide-eyed at Val—the person who’d helped raise her, Veronyka’s sister and protector and friend.
“Xe Nyka,” she said, using the Pyraean nickname for “Veronyka.” Val’s voice was sweeter in Pyraean, the long e sound of Nyka softer, gentler—almost soothing. But if it wasn’t a denial Val intended to speak, Veronyka didn’t want to hear it. She shoved her sister, hard, and Val toppled backward into the cabin wall.
Veronyka didn’t hesitate, but flung herself onto the ground next to her bondmate. Xephyra’s bulging eyes met hers, but they couldn’t focus. Pain gnawed at Xephyra’s stomach, pulsing through the bond, while her thoughts, her emotions . . . they were ebbing away, like water through cupped hands.
Veronyka reached out for her, mentally and physically, but then Val was there again, dragging her backward. Veronyka fought her—more savagely than ever before, more than she’d fought even for her maiora—but Val’s grip was unrelenting. Veronyka could do no more than watch in horror as, with a stagger and one last chirrup, Xephyra fell to the ground, unmoving.
Veronyka’s mind went silent.
Their bond, their connection—just like that, it was gone.