Now that they had begun, Tristan knew the phoenixes would be at it for a while. He nudged Nyk, whose large round eyes reflected the fiery performance, and returned to sitting against the wall near the entrance. Nyk followed, walking backward so he didn’t miss a single second of the show.
Tristan didn’t know if it was guilt over how he’d first treated Nyk or gratitude for the help he had given Tristan since, but for some reason—he didn’t want to think too hard on it—making Nyk smile made Tristan’s own heart lighter. Nyk had a way of bringing out a happier, more positive side of him. Barely an hour ago he’d been ready to deem his long-desired promotion to patrol leader a failure just because it wasn’t happening as quickly as he’d hoped. But Nyk had made him truly appreciate the success for what it was: a step in the right direction. And before that, when Tristan had blurted out his fear of fire, Nyk hadn’t laughed or ridiculed him. He hadn’t even batted an eye, instead listing off famous Riders with issues of their own so he wouldn’t feel alone and then providing Tristan with a life-changing solution.
It wasn’t that their friendship was all fun and laughter—in fact, Nyk was one of the few people, besides his father, who called him on his arrogance and bad temper. But unlike his father, who held Tristan’s every bad decision against him, Nyk never seemed to hold a grudge. After their rocky start, Nyk had been steadfast and loyal, a constant friend in a place where Tristan didn’t really have any. He’d never fit in much with the other apprentices, and he wasn’t yet a Master Rider. He was stuck somewhere between, which was often a hard place to be.
But then he’d look at Nyk, and his endless hope would make Tristan want to hope too, just like Nyk’s faith in Tristan made Tristan want to have faith in himself. He wanted to be the person Nyk seemed to think he could be, and he needed Nyk by his side to remind him of that.
He needed Nyk by his side because he never felt more himself than when they were together.
They continued to watch in silence as the phoenixes painted the night sky. At one point Nyk’s head drooped onto Tristan’s shoulder, and Tristan let his own head fall back against the rough-hewn wall.
Eventually the birds gave up the dance and returned to their roost. The night around them grew darker, until only Rex remained. With a last flash of light, he took his final descent into the shadows.
Tristan bade him good night and thanked him before moving to get to his feet. Nyk slumped against the wall, fast asleep. Tristan prodded him with a foot, then gave him a gentle shake with his hand, but Nyk was dead to the world. Everything about him was bright and vivid, as if Nyk didn’t do anything by half—couldn’t, even if he wanted to. When he ran, no matter how tired, he pushed until his legs buckled beneath him. When he talked about phoenixes and Riders and animal magic, his whole face lit up.
And even when he slept, he did so with reckless abandon—his shock of messy black hair standing on end and his mouth slightly open.
With a smirk, Tristan bent down and lifted him, carrying Nyk in his arms back into the stronghold. It was strange, holding him close like that—having Nyk’s face pressed against his chest. It was a relief to unburden himself when he reached Nyk’s bed in the servants’ barracks, but when Tristan stepped away, he felt strangely bereft as the cold air rushed into the places where Nyk’s warmth had been.
Tristan knew that he should have told Nyk about the eggs. But he’d feared the information would cause Nyk to leave, and the idea made Tristan miserable. There had to be a way. He would go searching himself if he had to. The last time he’d disobeyed his father’s orders, he’d been assigned extra lessons with Nyk—and the time before that, he’d found Nyk wandering the wilderness. Both instances had worked out far better than he could have imagined.
Maybe if he did it again, something even better would befall him.
Maybe Nyk would be made an apprentice and Tristan a patrol leader. And when it came time to choose his second-in-command, Nyk would be top of the list.
Together we could have been unstoppable.
- CHAPTER 26 -
VERONYKA
VERONYKA AWOKE SUDDENLY, DISORIENTED as she stared up at the wooden ceiling. She blinked into the darkness and saw the familiar rows of hammocks that filled the servants’ barracks. Slowly the night before came back to her: the stone-carved Eyrie, the fire-drenched phoenixes . . . and Tristan.
She must’ve fallen asleep, and—Axura above, did Tristan carry her to her bed?
Heat prickled her cheeks, and she couldn’t tell if she was mortified or pleased. It was kind of Tristan to let her sleep, but she’d begun to fear that kindness. She didn’t want to need it. As unrealistic as it felt, she wanted them to be equals. While he’d called them friends, she felt the imbalance between them: He was older, stronger, more experienced, while she was younger, weaker, and new to this place. He was the commander’s son and would rule one day. She was . . . nobody. Not even an apprentice. It was similar to her equally disproportionate relationship with Val, and Veronyka never wanted to feel like she owed someone her life again.
She reached into her pocket for her braided bracelet, fingering the familiar beads.
The Eyrie was at once better—and worse—than she’d been expecting. All the history and beauty was there, and the feeling of magic was powerful, as if embedded in the stones. But then there’d been that sense of wrongness, that fluttering, agitated tremor in the air.
Breeding cages.
Veronyka had never even considered such a thing. When she’d thought about the Riders trying to get more phoenix eggs, she’d always assumed that meant searching, not trying to produce them. Guilt gnawed at her belly, as if she were somehow complicit in their imprisonment. All this time she’d been here, there were females locked away in cages somewhere out of sight. How did people like Morra stand for it?