They practiced all day, sending words to each other whenever they were apart—eating or sleeping or distracted by other things—but the best test of their bond always came when they practiced together. Exercises like the obstacle course Tristan had done to finish out his apprenticeship were such an example, but Veronyka wasn’t there yet in her training. Besides, she and Xephyra both preferred flying.
Veronyka waved to the perimeter guards and the Rider on patrol—currently Beryk—but everyone was well used to her late-night flights by now. She and Xephyra soon arrived at their destination, a practice course called Soth’s Fury. The series of caves were filled with tight, narrow spaces that tested a Rider’s ability to maneuver at high speeds, and they’d installed targets throughout to make a challenging run for any would-be warrior to hit them with arrow or spear.
Veronyka loved Soth’s Fury, and she and Xephyra were getting better and better at navigating its darkest depths.
Ready? Veronyka asked as they approached the mouth of the caves.
Xephyra didn’t reply so much as give a surge of excitement and adrenaline. An obvious yes, but Veronyka pushed her to communicate more clearly.
Words, Xephyra, Veronyka pressed.
Xephyra huffed beneath her. Aeti, she said at last.
Veronyka rolled her eyes, fighting back a grin. Whenever Xephyra grew tired of Veronyka’s constant pushing, she rebelled. In this instance, choosing to reply in ancient Pyraean rather than common Trader’s Tongue.
You think this is funny? Veronyka asked, going for stern but not quite managing it. There was no hiding your emotions from your own bondmate, after all.
Sia, Xephyra replied smugly. That was a northern Arborian dialect that she’d picked up from Anders, who sang old Arborian songs to the other Riders and translated them for anyone who’d listen. Most people didn’t, but apparently Xephyra did.
Are you finished? Veronyka asked, the gaping mouth of the entrance drawing steadily nearer.
Verro. That was… Ferronese, maybe? How Xephyra had picked that up, Veronyka had no idea. She couldn’t help it; she laughed as they dove down into the dark.
Veronyka had flown through the caverns many times and felt comfortable there, despite the dank echoes and shifting shadows that made it a somewhat spooky place. There were targets positioned at intervals within the caves, providing a variety of different shots for a mounted archer to hit. They were metallic, so they reflected sunlight—or phoenix fire—but were still difficult to spot, not to mention the fact that some were better suited to a spear throw or even a short sword or dagger, if the Rider was daring enough to fly so close.
And Veronyka was.
Her favorite part of the course was a stretch of targets that alternated between those she could hit on phoenix-back and those she could only hit on foot—partially obscured by rocky outcrops or tilted at an impossible angle. To get them all, the Rider must leap from their phoenix’s back, run across uneven rocky ground to strike the target, then leap back onto their bondmate to grab their bow and continue on to the next target. It was nearly impossible, and required pinpoint precision and top-notch communication.
Veronyka gripped her reins as they barreled through the narrow opening. They weren’t true reins—they didn’t lead to a bridle and bit in Xephyra’s mouth like a horse’s reins did—but were meant to act as handholds and restraints, allowing inexperienced Riders to remain safely attached to their mounts during flight, and for more advanced flyers, they allowed a Rider to stand or reposition themselves. Veronyka had seen Fallon, the second patrol leader, fly upside down, using his reins to hold his body tight to his phoenix, defying gravity.
Veronyka was usually a no-nonsense flyer during lessons and drills, but after her failure in the ring today, she was determined to push herself and try her hand at some theatrical acrobatics of her own.
They moved swiftly into the labyrinthine caves, the stony walls closing in on them. They were smooth and high, like columns of dripping wax, while spiky stalagmites rose from the ground, some so large they had to be dodged as they whipped past. The shadows grew thick and cool around them, while trickles of water could be heard in the distance, remnants of some long-ago river rush.
Veronyka withdrew her bow, and through the bond she told Xephyra which targets she wanted and in what order, loosing arrow after arrow into the metallic bull’s-eyes. Since it was pitch-black in the caverns, Xephyra emitted a faint glow to light the way.
Soth’s Fury was divided into three courses in varying levels of difficulty, and though she knew it was foolish, Veronyka followed the most challenging route, each target marked by a circle of vivid purple paint around its edge like the tips of Xephyra’s plumage.
While the start was easy enough, the course became more difficult with every target they passed. Up ahead, the stretch of concealed targets loomed, and Veronyka braced herself.
Telling Xephyra to slow her pace ever so slightly, Veronyka tightened her handhold and carefully pulled her feet from the stirrups until she was squatting on Xephyra’s back. Her phoenix flapped her wings as little as possible, keeping her flight steady, but still Veronyka wobbled and struggled for balance.
The first concealed target appeared, tucked into a crevice above a narrow ledge and hidden behind a stalagmite that jutted from the ground. Veronyka braced herself, waiting.
Now, she said to Xephyra, leaping to the right as her phoenix flew left, just missing the stalagmite by inches. Veronyka slipped and stumbled as she tried to regain her footing, but she couldn’t slow down—momentum was all that was keeping her on such a scant foothold. She careened forward, whipping out a dagger and hitting the target with a resounding thud, before hurtling past it and leaping out into the empty air of the cavern.
But then Xephyra was there, as Veronyka had known she would be. She slammed hard into the saddle, but even the pain couldn’t dim the feeling of triumph coursing through her veins.
Xephyra swung her neck around to look at Veronyka, and her dark eyes danced with fiery pleasure.
Good? she asked, turning back around and soaring gracefully between rocky spires.
Aeti, Veronyka replied, and Xephyra crooned.
Afterward, they sat on their favorite slab of stone and watched as the sun began to rise in the distance.
Veronyka leaned against Xephyra, her body exhausted and her thoughts still, finally finding the peace she failed to get alone at night. After a while something stirred in the back of her mind, and Veronyka knew that Tristan was awake.
Just like that, her peace was shattered.
Everything about her bond to Xephyra made Veronyka feel better, stronger, and more alive. Her bond to Tristan did too. But she couldn’t let it. Being bonded to another human was dangerous…. Veronyka had learned that lesson the hard way. She kept trying to forget about it, kept hoping that it would resolve itself or fade into the background. Tristan deserved to know that a magical link existed between them that gave her insight into his thoughts and feelings, but it was hard to face telling him that without any words of comfort or reassurance.
Why, yes, Tristan, I can hear your thoughts and sense your feelings—and no, I have no idea how to stop it. You’re scared? Me too.
Veronyka knew nothing of shadow magic and only the barest fragments of how to strengthen or weaken its power. The only person who had the answers she sought was Val, and reaching out to her was a risk Veronyka couldn’t take.