Veronyka’s chest was suddenly tight. “But your father—the commander—said you’re not recruiting.”
“Is that all he said?”
Veronyka frowned. What did that mean? “Well, he also said that training costs money . . . that he couldn’t have poor peasant lads bonding with phoenixes but then unable to afford proper training.”
Tristan sighed. “It’s one of the first things I’d change if it were up to me.”
“What is?” Veronyka asked, her racing thoughts causing her to lose track of the conversation.
“You shouldn’t have to be rich, or sponsored, to be a Rider. Plus, we should let girls join. It would double our numbers right out the gate.”
Veronyka fought to keep her face neutral, though his words caused a tingle of heat to creep up her cheeks. “I don’t understand the rule against girls to begin with,” she said in what she hoped was an offhand voice.
Tristan shrugged. “It was practicality at first. When we began recruiting—well, it was expensive, starting up. So precedence was given to those who already had an egg, or who had the funds to purchase one of the few we had on hand. They also needed to be able to afford the food and supplies they’d need for training, and of course, any extra funding to help us rebuild the facilities was welcome. Latham—Loran’s brother,” he added, as Loran was one of the stablehands she worked with every day. Veronyka hadn’t known he was related to an apprentice—surely when the time came to recruit and gain sponsorship, Loran would have no trouble getting in. “Their mother paid for the renovations to the practice yard, and Fallon’s family supplied our first horses. The commander was also interested in those with existing combat training or weapons skills—that way we weren’t starting at zero—and most who met those qualifications happened to be boys.”
“Most, but not all?”
“Well, you know Elliot?” Tristan asked, and Veronyka nodded. “Both he and his sister wanted to join. They had the money, too. But we only had one egg available, so the commander decided to just admit him.”
“Was he better?” Veronyka demanded, unable to keep the scathing note from her voice.
“He was the older of the two,” Tristan said. “And seemed more eager, but he was pretty devastated when his sister was rejected. I guess it was easier to have no girls than one girl. . . .”
Veronyka seethed, but she didn’t say anything. The commander’s reasoning was flimsy. And yes, maybe the one girl Rider would have had to sleep with the female servants in their barracks, but was that really such an inconvenience? Even in the days of the empire, the Phoenix Riders had always mimicked the natural social structure of wild phoenixes, flying in smaller groups that were responsible for defending a given territory, and mated pairs were kept together. Older, solitary phoenixes often remained in the mating grounds and training complexes, helping to care for the hatchlings and tend the young. The gender divide wasn’t something they practiced or acknowledged—patrols trained, slept, and ate together, whatever their sex.
Valley logic, Val would call it. The mountain-born Pyraeans had been the only matriarchal monarchy in the region, and their laws and customs were hard for some of the men of the valley kingdoms to swallow.
“But we’ll have to change eventually,” he continued. “We could make do without a horse for every Rider. We could modify old saddles and tack and start using obsidian arrowheads and spear points, which are cheaper than steel. Some time, sooner or later, the empire will learn that we’ve regrouped, and they’ll come for us.”
“And he just plans to sit here and wait for them? What’s the point of being tucked away up here when our people are in bondage in the valley?”
“You’re right,” he said heavily, a note of frustration in his voice. “But two Rider patrols and ten apprentices don’t make an army. We need to grow our numbers first, give the apprentices time to develop their skills. If we showed our faces in the empire now, we’d be slaughtered, and do more damage than good. Even still,” he said, seeing Veronyka open her mouth to interject, “I’ve been pushing to become a Master Rider . . . ideally, the next patrol leader. That way we can graduate some of the older boys and make a third patrol. Hopefully after that we can open up recruitment and take on more apprentices.”
Veronyka’s blood was like lightning in her veins. “Will he listen to you? How many new recruits could you take on?”
Something in Tristan’s gaze flickered, and Veronyka sensed hesitation when he replied. “It’s—I don’t know. We probably shouldn’t be talking about this.”
“You’re the one who said—”
“I know what I said. But I’m just an apprentice. It’s not my place to talk about or criticize the commander’s protocols.”
They walked on in silence for several moments. Veronyka chewed her lip.
Tristan wanted to change things here, to allow boys and girls, even the poor ones, to join. That sounded like the Phoenix Riders Veronyka had grown up on, the kind of Phoenix Riders she wanted to be a part of.
“Why haven’t you become one yet?” Veronyka asked, breaking the silence. “A Master Rider or a patrol leader?”
Tristan laughed without humor. “The commander doesn’t think I’m ready.”
Veronyka thought about this. They’d have to show him that Tristan was ready. Maybe if they really pushed hard during these evening exercises, she could help him achieve his goal. And her goal too. She was still poor, but maybe as a patrol leader, Tristan could have more say in who they recruited and who was sponsored.
Veronyka knew it was a long shot, but if they were going to be doing all this extra training anyway . . . wasn’t it worth trying?
“How long do you think the commander wants us to work together?” she asked, an idea forming in the back of her mind. They’d arrived at the stables, Veronyka opening the gate to guide Wind back inside, while Tristan undid the latch to the fenced area where the dogs slept.
Closing it behind the hound, he followed her into the stables, a frown on his face. “I don’t know. Probably until his next inspection. He attends our lessons once a month, so maybe by his next visit he’ll decide if I’ve been sufficiently punished,” he said, smirking slightly at the last word, as if the idea was laughable now. It made her smile too. “Why?”
As Veronyka removed Wind’s saddle and placed it on the rack, Tristan picked up a brush and started grooming the animal. He seemed to do it absently, as if helping her with her chores wasn’t something he had to think about.
“No reason,” she said, removing Wind’s bridle. Tristan continued to frown at her, so she shrugged as she said, “It’ll be a good opportunity, that’s all.”
Tristan stopped brushing to stare at her over the animal’s back. “Opportunity for what?”
“To prove him wrong.”