Veronyka watched, breath caught in her throat, as Anders prepared to start the course. He silently called his phoenix, who appeared from the depths of the Eyrie, where the rest of the bondmates awaited their summons.
The boy’s phoenix was half the size of the commander’s, and so too was his performance. His horse kicked and reared, his hound bayed and leapt for the rabbits more than once, and his messenger pigeon took flight near the beginning and never returned. His phoenix behaved correctly, as far as Veronyka could tell, and when the commander demanded to know where the second patrol was, Anders’s answer—relayed from the phoenix—seemed to please him.
At the end, his bondmate came to land gracefully in front of him, and while the horse started, it refrained from unseating its rider. The others clapped as he dismounted, shouting words of encouragement as Anders’s narrow shoulders sagged in relief.
Eight more went through their paces, with similar levels of success. The multitasking was clearly very difficult, and while each shone in their own way—some at archery or jumping, others with the hound, the pigeon, or both—none were able to master it all. Veronyka itched to try it herself.
Tristan was last. The other apprentices, done tending their horses, stood to watch. It was clear by the focused attention of the other boys and the commander that great things were expected of him. Even the stablehands watched eagerly.
Tristan easily outshone the others. Wind fought against his control—Veronyka could sense it—but ultimately the horse obeyed, completing the circuit without rearing or kicking out. The hound and pigeon also behaved correctly, making Tristan’s run almost flawless.
Almost.
Nearing his triumphant finish, Tristan called down his phoenix, the largest of the apprentice mounts, who flapped his wings and burst into dazzling flame. Everyone stiffened in surprise—except the commander, who watched without reaction or emotion.
Tristan’s face was focused and intense, and Veronyka couldn’t tell if he’d intended for the phoenix to ignite or if his bondmate had acted against his will. The phoenix landed in a wave of heat and sparks, the horses in the paddock whinnying and snorting while the rest of the phoenixes, who preened on the rocks at the edge of the grassy plain, squawked and ruffled their feathers.
Veronyka ignored all this, her eyes fixed on Wind. They had a special friendship, a connection, and even at a distance she could feel the horse’s terror. His eyes rolled and his nostrils flared as he reared up in fear.
The phoenix puffed out his flaming feathers, standing his ground, while Tristan tried desperately to get his horse under control. Wind was having none of it, kicking and spinning around, causing the pigeon to take flight and the dog to dart away, tail between his legs.
Veronyka didn’t think—she reacted.
She stepped out from the group, putting herself between the phoenix—who pulsed heat so suffocating that she staggered—and the horse, who continued to try to buck his rider. Tristan was halfway off his saddle now, in danger of a bad fall and possibly a trampling.
Despite the fear and panic assaulting her from all sides, Veronyka cleared her mind of everything and everyone except for Wind. She found the disappearing remnants of their earlier link and reopened it. Her eyes bored into his, strengthening their connection and drawing his focus away from the phoenix. She put all her magic into a series of calm, soothing emotions.
Look at me, she said gently in his mind. Keep your eyes on me.
He tossed his head and reared onto his hind legs, but she never wavered.
On me, she repeated, the words ringing in her mind. A second later the horse dropped to all fours as if Veronyka were a puppet master controlling his strings. He released one last snort of agitation, then remained still.
Tristan dropped from the saddle, panting as he gathered himself. He nodded at his phoenix, and the flames went out.
Everyone stared, including the commander, but it was Tristan who spoke first.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he spat at Veronyka, his voice shaking. “How dare you interfere with an apprentice exercise?”
Veronyka was stunned. She hadn’t thought beyond calming Wind and keeping him—and Tristan—safe. But if she had, she might’ve hoped for some recognition or praise. Not a scolding.
The commander stepped forward. “It’s clear that all of you need more practice with this exercise. Some,” he said, staring at Tristan, “more than others. This course will replace your morning map lessons and teach you the importance of focus and control. You, Tristan,” he added as the apprentices moved to pack up, “will come in the evenings as well. Every night. Nyk here can help. It was lucky you found him. . . . Perhaps he can teach you a few things.”
Tristan glowered at Veronyka. She didn’t understand—she was to teach an apprentice?
“But, Commander,” Tristan began incredulously. He spoke more quietly when he continued, not wanting to draw the continued attention of his fellow apprentices. “Father, he’s—he’s just a stableboy. What could he possibly teach me?”
Father? Immediately she saw it; he had the commander’s light-brown eyes and widow’s-peak hairline, as well as some of his natural confidence and physical presence. Veronyka reconsidered every interaction she had seen between them, filtered through the lens of family. Suddenly Tristan’s bad mood made sense.
The commander’s lips twisted as if in amusement. “What could he teach you? Humility, for a start,” he said, mounting his horse and trotting back up to the village.
Tristan glared down at Veronyka, cold hatred in his expression, before storming off after the commander.
Veronyka helped the rest of the stablehands bring in the animals, avoiding their stares. She knew Tristan didn’t like her much after his discovery of her had backfired and made a fool out of him—not to mention the way they had argued at her interrogation. But after today . . .
Angering a random apprentice was one thing, but making an enemy of the commander’s son was something else entirely.
But fire forges weapons. Obsidian, steel . . . even phoenixes. All are tempered, fortified, and made stronger after passing through the flames. The same can be true of people.
- CHAPTER 17 -
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