Taking her stick, Trix drew in the dirt in front of her. With a few hasty lines, she had a rough map of the Golden Empire, with divisions marking the provinces of Ferro, Stel, Pyra, and Arboria North and South. In the middle was an A for “Aura Nova,” the capital city and its own, separate district. Aura Nova was built on neutral territory, so that no one province would have political power over another, and was ruled directly by the council and not a separate governor.
“They were cornered,” Trix explained, using Xs to mark the Phoenix Rider forces, and Os for the empire’s foot soldiers and horse-mounted cavalry. “When Avalkyra led her troops to the Nest, the empire’s forces circled around, blocking their escape. They could obviously fly out of range, but the empire’s catapults were placed strategically around the city. And besides . . . Avalkyra would never approve a retreat. By taking the battle to the empire, we were forced to fight on their terms—on their turf, so to speak. Avalkyra had been forced to flee the capital and set up residence in Pyra, but everyone knew she wanted the Nest. Pheronia’s generals took advantage of that and waited.
“Phoenix Riders are best in open fields or high terrain, not in cramped cities. Our attack patterns are usually sweeps—a small unit rips by, loosing arrows and trailing fire, before circling back around. But in such tight quarters, those kinds of assaults were difficult. There were too many hiding spots for the archers below—they just camped out in upper-story windows and picked us off. Most of Aura Nova is stone, but even still, the entire city was on fire. Everything that could burn did . . . buildings, trees, and flesh. Ash fell from the sky and blanketed the streets like a rare winter snowfall. Luckily for the poor folk squatting in wooden tenements and cheap, run-down cookhouses, the majority of the battle took place on the Rock.”
The Rock was a thrust of stone that held the Nest, the name of the palace that had housed the royal line since Queen Elysia the Peacemaker built it when she founded the empire. They said Queen Elysia chose the rocky outcrop because it reminded her of their abandoned home atop Pyrmont. There, the palace was built, and on the flatter ground surrounding it, the public service buildings, courthouses, and temple district. Marble Row, the street of lavish houses where the provincial governors lived while they were in the city, along with wealthy merchants and other people of importance, was situated on the eastern side of the Rock, where they had a view of the harbor and the Fingers where they sliced through the capital.
Marble Row had been decimated during the battle and had been in a constant state of rebuild for the fourteen years Sev had lived in the capital.
“And on the Rock is where the war ended. Just as they were born, they died—together,” Trix continued.
“Who did?” Sev asked.
“The princesses—the Ashfire heirs. They were False Sisters, you know. Shadow Twins. Siblings born mere moments apart by the same father and two different mothers. It creates a kind of bond, a connection that goes beyond blood. Avalkyra’s mother was queen, a Rider from an old Pyraean line who died in childbirth, and her sister’s mother had been a wealthy Stellan consort—until the death of the queen, when the king decided to marry her next. Even though Avalkyra was the first legitimate child of the king, his second marriage made Pheronia legitimate as well. And of course, no one was sure which princess was born first. The king never officially named an heir, the old fool, so the girls were pitted against each other from day one. She loved her, though, Avalkyra—she loved her sister, but it’s the strongest love that turns into the strongest hate. And hatred wins wars.” She paused. “Usually. In truth, neither sister won the Blood War. Avalkyra’s phoenix, Nyx, was gravely wounded—I watched from a tower window as both Rider and mount fell from the sky. They landed amid the rubble and destruction near the outer walls of the Nest. Before long, the flames engulfed them both.”
Her voice had gone hoarse, and she cleared it before continuing.
“Riders are immune to their mount’s fire, of course, but only while their phoenix is alive to protect them. As for Pheronia, the foolish girl left the safety of her tower room—looking for her sister, some say, hoping to make peace or surrender—and was taken by an arrow as she roamed the palace walls. They brought her to me, you know,” she said, and Sev straightened. He had no idea she’d been so closely involved. He’d assumed that as a spy, she’d simply watched from the shadows.
“Oh yes. I was an assistant healer working inside the Nest, and of course all the properly trained practitioners were busy elsewhere. They brought that dying princess to me and wanted a miracle.” Trix sighed. “The arrow went clean through her chest. There’s no saving someone from that sort of wound. Still, I did what I could for her. . . . People like to talk about the princesses as if they were seasoned politicians, analyzing every fault and misstep. But seeing her there, dying on my table . . . she was just a girl, barely eighteen, alone and afraid.”
Sev was eighteen, old enough to be considered an adult and allowed to join the military instead of the labor camps for his criminal sentence. It was hard to imagine having the weight of an empire on his shoulders when he could barely keep his own life together.
Trix’s gaze was distant, as if she were reliving the past inside her head. Finally she seemed to come back to herself and poked at the fire once more.
“Now we have no princesses, no queen or king. The governors bicker and squabble, back to their old ways, fighting against one another for every scrap of power and control. It’s been sixteen years, and they’ve yet to get a majority vote for someone to succeed the throne. The prudent ones fear a civil war; the power-hungry ones are simply biding their time. Their provincial armies are only just now coming back to full strength, but soon someone will make a move and seize the power that is there and waiting.”
“Do you think the Phoenix Riders could do it? That they could put someone on the throne again?” Sev asked.
Trix looked at him sharply, as if surprised by the question. Her eyes were dark, shadowy pools when she replied. “In truth, I don’t know what their purpose is, hidden as they are up in the mountains. But yes, I believe that one day, they could put a Phoenix Rider queen on the throne again.”
Sev wanted to ask if she thought they should, but he held back. Surely it would mean more fighting, more wars, and he couldn’t help but feel that the struggle might not be worth it . . . that the Phoenix Riders would return only to be wiped out once more.
“And what about . . . what happened to your phoenix?” Sev asked hesitantly. Whatever had happened to Trix’s bondmate, it couldn’t be good, but curiosity got the better of him.
She stared at the flames. They’d burned quite low, only just gilding the bottom of her face. “Her name was Bellatrix.”