A poison brewer, a whisper catcher—a spymaster. This person moved unseen, unnoticed among the Pyraean ranks of fighting queens and flying heroes. As such, their deeds are often lost to history, and even their names exist in no surviving record books—except one. Shadowheart.
Pyraean surnames are either inherited through ancient lineage and powerful magical bloodlines, or they are earned. A Shadowheart could rise up from the lowliest of births and stand proud among the queen’s most loyal servants.
It is said that when the empire was founded, the position of Shadowheart was no longer utilized. The council demanded transparency, so such clandestine affairs were no longer tolerated.
Then again, it is the nature of the Shadowheart to be unknown and unremembered. Perhaps they have been here all along.
—“Queen and Council,” from Government, Then and Now by Olbek, High Priest of Mori, published 137 AE
I would have given her everything. Everything.
- CHAPTER 33 -
VERONYKA
ERSKEN WAS BY VERONYKA’S side for the remainder of the day, giving her no opportunity to sit with Xephyra and explain their circumstances. Maybe Xephyra was happy here, or maybe she was desperate to leave. Veronyka wanted to know. There was so much she’d missed out on, weeks of their lives together lost.
Though she was eager to have some alone time with Xephyra, Veronyka wasn’t thrilled at the idea of burdening her bondmate with the harsh realities of what being in the breeding cages would mean. She’d just have to take it slow and get a sense of how Xephyra was feeling before she caused more pain and fear. Her phoenix needed some time to recover. They both did.
Veronyka figured her best chance to spend time alone with Xephyra would be after nightfall, when the majority of the stronghold’s occupants retired. She wiled away her evening in the kitchens, begging food from Morra and helping where she could. When Tristan entered the dining hall, she watched him as he craned his neck and scanned the tables, only to drop dejectedly into a seat next to the other apprentices. Was he looking for her? The thought made her ache.
Later, when the stronghold was quiet, Veronyka made her way back to the Eyrie. She was halfway down the steps to the enclosure when a sudden tremor rippled through the bond.
Xephyra.
Veronyka pressed a hand to the wall, steadying herself, and turned inward. She found the place in her mind where Xephyra’s connection lived, but the thoughts and sensations funneling through were muddled and incoherent. Veronyka had forgotten what it was like to have a bond, to keep a part of yourself open at all times, and perhaps Xephyra had lost that instinct as well. All Veronyka could discern was that Xephyra was being fitted with a leash again. What was happening?
At the bottom of the stairs, Veronyka slowed her pace, willing herself to relax. Maybe Ersken allowed them an evening fly as well as an afternoon one. Maybe this was normal.
Still, her heart was a wild thing inside her chest—and not just because of the dozens of stairs she’d just run. Xephyra’s confusion was her own, and the sensation reminded Veronyka all too much of the moments before Val had poisoned her.
Pausing just inside the shadows of the gallery, Veronyka peered down into the courtyard below.
Ersken was standing next to Commander Cassian, facing the enclosure as if watching a show. They murmured together, but Veronyka couldn’t hear them or see what they were looking at from her vantage point. Xephyra was calm for now, but it didn’t change the feelings of unease she was emitting.
Instead of continuing down the stairs and entering the courtyard, Veronyka edged along the gallery. At last she saw Xephyra, but she wasn’t in the enclosure with the other two females.
She was in the matching enclosure next to them.
A hand dropped onto her shoulder, and Veronyka whirled, her heart jumping into her throat.
Tristan stood in the shadows just behind her, a frown on his face. “Hey, are you okay?” he asked softly. His eyes raked her face, taking in the details of her strained expression and the way she kept looking down at the enclosure below. “What are you doing?”
He followed her line of sight and spotted Xephyra, separated from the other females. His face hardened.
“That’s why he asked me to come down here . . . ,” he muttered.
The questions bubbled up in her throat, but she didn’t speak them—she already knew the answer. Veronyka hadn’t given the second enclosure much thought earlier today, but it was clearly used for mating. A tremor rippled through Veronyka’s body. She thought she’d have weeks to figure this out, but it had been less than a day.
“No,” Veronyka whispered, her voice faint. She craned her neck, seeking Xephyra, reaching through the bond. “She’s too young. She’s never . . . She’s not—” Veronyka was blathering, but Tristan cut her off.
“I know,” he said grimly. He stared at her and seemed to come to a decision. He turned away and strode down the steps.
“Tristan, you’re late,” the commander said by way of greeting. “Call Rex down, and let’s get on with this.”
“Don’t you think this is a bit quick?” Tristan asked, coming to stand in front of his father but making no move to follow his orders and call his bondmate. “The phoenix was captured yesterday. She’s clearly young and frightened,” he said, pointing at Xephyra, though at that moment, she looked nothing so much as politely curious.
Biting her lip, Veronyka reached out to Xephyra. She didn’t want to actually scare her, but instead she simply asked: Xephyra, do you trust me?
The answer was swift as breath. Not a word, exactly, but a feeling.
Yes.
Warmth spread inside Veronyka’s chest. Soon she wouldn’t even need to ask; soon they would be completely in sync again.
Smiling, she asked her bondmate to have a bit of a tantrum. She was happy to oblige, squawking indignantly and flapping her wings so her chain rattled.
Tristan seemed puzzled by her abrupt change in attitude, but also pleased, gesturing to the phoenix as she proved his point. “Her wound has barely even healed. Do you really think this is a conducive environment for breeding?”
“Ersken has measured her tail feathers. Their length indicates an age between three to six months. She is fully mature.”
Veronyka swallowed, her throat thick. Xephyra was large for her age—she always had been, even in her first life. She might have lived for over three months cumulatively, but this life, this body was closer to two months.
“Female phoenixes are extremely defensive creatures, Tristan,” the commander continued. “The sooner we engage in breeding exercises, the better the chances she will not yet claim this place as her own. Xolanthe and Xatara have both exhibited territorial behaviors in their mating attempts. This is our chance to counteract that.”
Tristan’s expression was hard. He set his feet and crossed his arms, bracing himself. “I won’t do it. I—this—it’s not right. It’s not the best way. I can’t stop you from doing it, but I can stop Rex and myself from being a part of it.”