Val had been a hard teacher, but Veronyka had to admit that she’d learned from her and the cautionary stories she’d told.
“I heard that in the Last Battle, half the animals in Aura Nova went mad,” Veronyka said softly as Tristan took a swig from the waterskin. The Last Battle was Avalkyra Ashfire’s final stand, when she sent all of her troops to the capital city in an attempt to seize the Nest, the empire’s royal palace and seat of power. “The Riders couldn’t contain their magic, and their volatile emotions fell like rain from the sky. Horses broke through their stalls, cats clawed themselves bloody, and dogs ran down their masters.”
Tristan finished his drink and trailed a hand absently along Wind’s neck. “I wonder if it wasn’t on purpose. . . .”
“What do you mean?” Veronyka asked, trying to clear the disturbing images from her mind. Ever since she’d heard the story, she’d dreamed of it from time to time, soaring over the carnage on phoenix-back. Her parents had died that night, and though Veronyka had no idea of the details or circumstances, she hated to think of the terror and bloodshed they’d had to endure in their last moments in this world.
“You have to admit, it’s a potent siege tactic, turning half the occupants of the city against their human masters. It’s like doubling your army.”
Veronyka’s stomach churned. “But . . . so many animals would die.”
“Yes, they would. But humans died too, didn’t they? And phoenixes?”
“But they chose to fight,” Veronyka protested.
Tristan shrugged, his expression thoughtful when he said, “Maybe the animals did too.” Veronyka frowned, and he gestured down at Wind. “Their devotion to the animages who feed and care for them is powerful. . . . If phoenixes have the desire to fight on behalf of the humans they love, why not other animals as well?”
Veronyka had never thought about it that way. What if the animals had joined in willingly? What if it wasn’t a command or a pulse of anger that had drawn them into the fray, but love and loyalty of their own? Maybe the animals had fought to protect people like her parents. The idea warmed her heart and helped to banish the bloody images from her mind.
In the distance the hourly bell chimed, announcing the change in watch shift.
“Ten bells already. I’m sorry for keeping you so late,” Tristan said, dismounting. “I should have sent you back in hours ago. Once the sun sets, the commander won’t know I’m out here alone.”
“It’s okay,” Veronyka said, and she meant it. Working with Tristan was the most fun she’d had since she’d arrived, especially now that they weren’t fighting.
“What if I made it worth it for you?”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
Tristan paused as he put away his arrows, considering her. “Well, I can’t promise I’ll be made patrol leader—or that you’ll become an apprentice when I do—but I can help you prepare. There’s more to Riding than bonding with a phoenix. Combat, archery . . . You said yourself you didn’t know any of it. I just thought . . . maybe I could help you, like you’re helping me. What do you think?”
“I think . . . yes, of course,” she said, stunned by his generosity.
Tristan beamed, all uncertainty gone. “Good,” he said, sliding the last arrows into the quiver.
As they walked back to the village, Veronyka’s good mood turned dark.
“How does sponsorship work?” she asked. That would be the final hurdle she’d have to face if they decided to recruit in the near future. She could practice all she wanted, but if she couldn’t afford the supplies or convince a Rider to sponsor her . . .
Tristan’s brow furrowed. “Well, usually a Rider recommends a friend or family member for recruitment and offers to cover the costs of training. If they show aptitude and pass some basic tests, then they’re admitted.”
“Oh,” Veronyka said, her heart sinking. She had to have a sponsor in place before she would even be allowed to take the tests?
As they arrived at the stables, Tristan opened his mouth to say something when Elliot emerged, followed by a flutter of wings as a pigeon took to the sky out the rear window of the pigeon coop.
Elliot started at the sight of them. “Oh, Tristan,” he said, looking between them with a strangely accusatory stare. “I was just sending an order for new leathers for Anders and Ronyn.”
He paused, as if he were expecting Tristan’s approval or permission.
“Oh, right.” Tristan glanced at Veronyka. “We were just training.”
Elliot made no move to smile or greet her. Veronyka glanced at Tristan, but whatever he’d been about to say when they arrived, it was clear he didn’t intend to say it in front of Elliot.
Veronyka fought a pang of disappointment that their night was cut short so abruptly.
“I guess I’ll see you later,” she said to Tristan before grabbing Wind’s reins and leading him inside.
Later, Veronyka tiptoed through the shadows of the courtyard.
The stronghold was deserted, save for the sentries posted atop the walls, and she avoided even their notice as she scurried toward the bathhouse.
She’d been too afraid to go up until this point and had taken to washing with a rag and a bucket of cold water from the well. But it had been more than a month since she’d first arrived, and she couldn’t hide from it any longer.
The bathhouse was a low stone hut between the servant and apprentice barracks. There were two doors, one for men and one for women. Veronyka edged through the men’s entrance and peeked inside.
The hut was filled with steam and burning incense—but no naked men, thank Axura. A fireplace burned in the wall that divided the bathhouse, heating both sides, while small oil lanterns hung from the ceiling. There were three round tubs sunk into the ground, each big enough to fit five or six people. Wisps of steam sat on the surface of the water, along with the pale, fragrant petals of the sapona plant.
Veronyka grabbed a towel from one of several woven baskets, then paused, listening for approaching footsteps. All was peaceful, save for the constant trill of crickets and frogs.