Val had told her that phoenix mating rituals were highly mysterious, that even the ancient Riders didn’t know much about them. They often bred and laid their eggs in secrecy, which was why caches of eggs could still be found all over the mountain, untouched for centuries, waiting to be hatched. It was only during the last fifty years of the empire that phoenix eggs were deliberately hidden to keep them safe. There was trouble brewing long before the Blood War, the divide between animages and nonmagical people growing more pronounced with each passing year.
The Phoenix Riders had always been a symbol of the empire’s power, the force used to unify the lesser kingdoms and to keep the peace and protect the people ever since. But where their loyalties lay was always somewhat elusive. In the beginning a Phoenix Rider always sat on the throne. First it was Elysia Ashfire, the Peacemaker, and then her daughter, Ellody. Many more followed, both sons and daughters, because when the Pyraeans took control of the valley, they vowed to respect and adopt the customs of all its people. Now the heir to the throne was always the eldest child, whatever their gender, and not the eldest daughter as it was in Pyraean culture, or the eldest son as it was done in most of the lesser kingdoms. The crown thrived, and for decades, man or woman, a Phoenix Rider sat in the empire’s golden seat.
If, as in the case of King Hellund, the heir was not an animage, they were swiftly married to one in order to keep magic in the royal line and to appease the animage supporters. During King Hellund’s reign—before his marriage to Queen Genya the General, a brutal fighter and Phoenix Rider—there were several recorded instances of the Phoenix Riders refusing to take orders from their king. Their allegiance was with their commander, which was often the position held by the local governor where they served. So, when King Hellund ordered the troops positioned in Ferro to fly across the empire to deal with a band of brigands terrorizing Arboria South, their Phoenix Rider commander simply refused. King Hellund’s marriage to Genya set things to rights, but not all the governors and politicians of the empire could forget that the Phoenix Riders’ loyalty wasn’t so much to the crown as it was to their own kind.
By the time Avalkyra and Pheronia were born, the foundation for the war between them was already firmly in place. Those without magical blood saw themselves in Pheronia, who had the support of the nonmagical councilors, merchants, and governors. Of course the Phoenix Riders sided with Avalkyra, who was one of them—and whose mother had been a renowned warrior in her own right—but that didn’t buy her political support. And the Phoenix Riders’ numbers were small compared to the empire’s growing army of conscripted foot soldiers. Eggs became highly valuable, things to hoard and hide, not parade out in the open, and it had been that way ever since.
A shudder ran down Veronyka’s spine as she thought of those majestic birds, trapped against their will and forced to breed. It was like caging and breeding people. Phoenixes were no ordinary animals; they were highly intelligent even without a bond and had powerful magic all their own. But what were her chances of ever getting a phoenix again without the cages? And furthermore, what were the Riders’ chances of expanding without more eggs?
If Val hadn’t been so controlling and cruel, Veronyka could have come to the Eyrie with her own phoenix. She could’ve met Tristan as herself, as Veronyka, and trained with him and the other apprentices. He would have been better than her at first, but she’d have caught up to him. She’d have taught him what she knew about animal magic, and he would have helped her learn horseback riding and archery. Before long they would have soared through the sky as equals: Riders, warriors, and friends.
Tristan was already there when she arrived in the training yard later that morning, leaning against a barrel of practice weapons and dressed in his fitted training gear.
He opened his mouth to greet her, but Veronyka interrupted him, unable to bear it a second longer. “Thanks for, uh, getting me back to my bed last night.”
Tristan appeared startled at first. Then he grinned shyly, the barest hint of his dimples showing. “No problem,” he said, handing her the recurved bow that Veronyka had practiced with before.
After several shaky attempts, she managed to string it, and they made their way over to the targets. The training area was tucked against a corner of the stronghold’s walls, with a wooden fence on two sides. Targets lined the base of the stone wall, while soft sand combat areas and padded dummies filled the rest of the space. Next to the targets was a small wooden shed, which Tristan disappeared into, emerging several moments later with two quivers and a longbow.
“Might as well get in some practice,” he said, in response to her unasked question. “Don’t worry. You’ll still have my undivided attention should you need it.”
She felt moderately better that he was at least getting in some exercise for himself instead of devoting his entire day to her. Again the sense of the imbalance between them nagged at her.
A group of servants cut through the far corner of the yard, accompanied by Anders, Latham, and some other apprentices. They laughed and chatted excitedly, and Tristan glanced in their direction. They waved and called him over, but he shook his head and indicated his bow.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go with the others?” Veronyka asked, keeping her eyes on the bow in her hands—and not his face. They couldn’t have a proper solstice celebration up here, since the last thing they wanted was to draw attention to themselves, but the commander did allow a small group of villagers from Petratec and Montascent to come and participate. Apparently most of the servants and craftspeople who lived at the Eyrie were from those two villages, along with several of the Riders.
The visiting villagers brought arts and crafts to sell, fine clothes and jewelry, and participated in the games that were being held in the open field where the obstacle course usually took place. Later there would be music in the dining hall, while everyone enjoyed a large feast. At the very end of the night the phoenixes would take to the skies.
Tristan’s feet moved into her line of sight, and she looked up to meet his eyes. He was frowning. “I already told you I don’t want to do that. This is about getting you some time with proper targets and equipment.”
Veronyka nodded, but she didn’t answer.
“What’s troubling you, Nyk?” he asked, sticking the pointed end of his bow into the ground and leaning against it for support. “Do you not want to train?”
Veronyka struggled with the words. “No, of course I do! I just—I’ll never be able to repay you for all this help.”
He considered her for a moment, the morning sun casting his features into a haze of warm brown and gold. “I never said you had to. Besides, it’s thanks to you the commander is even giving me a patrol in the first place.”
“You’d have gotten that on your own eventually,” Veronyka said. “But what you’re giving me . . . the chance at being a Rider . . . I can’t give it back. I can’t match it.”
“Nyk—we’re friends now, all right? And that’s not how friendship works. Besides, we’ve both got a long way to go. I’m not patrol leader yet, and you’re not an apprentice. So, enough talk, and show me what you’ve got.”