Chapter 7 #2
Iryana reached inside, fingers dancing across light green fabric. The color of fresh shoots in spring. It was earth-imbued, the fibers barely showing their age. As if it hadn’t been sitting in the trunk for years.
A shuddering breath forced Iryana to curl over the trunk, clutching at her chest.
The dresses were for walking along tidy streets, sitting in lavish rooms, dancing at festivals.
There wasn’t a place anymore for bright whites, colorful embroidery, and delicate beading, but Iryana still wished she could see her mother wear them again.
Back in Klees, her mother had thrived. Moving around gracefully and elegantly, seeing to her guardian duties like one of the noble-born.
She had loved being a Kleesold.
Until Iryana drove her away.
If only Iryana had been able to behave, to leash her frustration at being separated from the rest of the family.
If only she could have been helpful like Hadima would have been, making things easier for their mother.
But no, Iryana had been a wild disaster that fought her chores, practiced her fighting forms instead of tending the garden, and argued with both her parents constantly.
Her eyes burned, and Iryana threw her head back, blinking away the emotions.
The liaison had offered her a few days to get ready, but Iryana had insisted she leave first thing in the morning.
She didn’t want to draw the goodbye out, even if it was just to the empty house.
She was feeling extremely grateful for that now as she closed her mother’s trunk and slid it back under the bed.
Whoever the liaison was sending for her would be there soon.
Hadima would come by later and take her cows and chickens back to the village, ensuring the cottage was closed up tight. All Iryana had needed to do was pack her things.
Everything was ready; her small bag of clothes slumped next to the door, her weapons carefully laid across the table.
The core parts of her armor were already carefully tied in place, the rest stuffed amongst her things.
She’d carefully cleaned her falchion, sharpening the curving single-edged blade.
It was her preferred backup weapon; the one-handed, wide sword had good cutting power if she had to fight up close.
When a knock sounded at the door, Iryana stiffened. It was time.
Iryana slung her bag and quiver onto her back, tucked her knife and her falchion into her belt, and grabbed the freshly strung bow from the table.
She could do this. She just needed to hold out as long as she could; send back whatever useful information she gathered.
Perhaps find the well, if she was lucky. That was it.
Wishing for the next few weeks to be smooth and quiet, Iryana reached for the door handle.
She opened the door to furrowed blue-gray eyes. Pyetar’s eyes.
“You?” she accused.
Pyetar had obviously come to collect her. He wore a thick cloak and cap to ward off the chill, sturdy-looking boots and wrappings up his calves for the mud. A bag slung over his back. Why did it have to be him of all people?
He seemed as happy about it as she felt. Pyetar looked one insult shy of a brawl, the muscles along his jaw tense.
Iryana scowled. What right did he have to be angry with her?
“Are you even recovered enough to take me?” she demanded, looking toward the leg he’d been limping on earlier.
“Whatever you want from the 18th, it’s a mistake,” he growled, ignoring her question. “Unpack your bags, stay here.”
“No,” she growled right back. “I earned that coin, and it’s my right to use it.”
He filled her doorway, muscular arms crossed over his broad chest. The way the light fell on his face left deep shadows beneath his prominent brow, his eyes impossibly dark.
It should have been threatening, ominous.
But instead, she thought about how she should have loosed her arrow when she had the chance.
Part of her acknowledged that Pyetar was dangerous, that she should try to avoid his anger.
She’d seen what he did to her cousin, the way he’d threatened her family.
But she was far past being able to win him over, so there was little motivation to cower or simper at his bullying.
He was nothing. A lackey. An enforcer. He was likely among those who brought drugs to the posts.
He shook his head, exasperated. “This isn’t a scenic trip for a sheltered guardian, used to being safe behind her walls. Plus, your kind isn’t very popular among mine. I wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up dead.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“I do what I must, remember that,” he growled. “Heed my warning and stay here.”
“I assure you.” She stepped right up to his chest and glared into his eyes. “I don’t need advice from a peddler.”
There was a flash of something in his eyes, and he clenched his jaw. “Fine.”
“If you don’t want to take me, send someone else.”
“I’m all you’ve got, little guardian.” His lips turned up in a mocking smirk. “But you’re more than welcome to stay here.”
Iryana stared back coldly, looking him up and down with displeased appraisal. Without a word of response, she shouldered past him and headed toward the path to the ridge.
“That’s not the way to the gate,” he called from behind her.
“I’ll meet you outside the gate, by the river.” Her family was supposed to think she was going to another post, not beyond the wall.
“Afraid to be seen with me?”
She couldn’t tell him the truth, so she just said, “Don’t want anyone to stop me.”
“Because they’re so desperate to keep you close.” His eyes narrowed.
Iryana tensed. “This may surprise you, but the Kleesolds are short on hands right now. Even losing mine will hurt.”
“Ah, yes.” Pyetar slid his thumb across his chin. “But how will they know what they’ll be missing? You risked your life leading an entire pack of dakii away, but they have no idea you saved them all.”
She looked away. “Just because I don’t want to see more people ripped apart by the dakii, doesn’t mean I’m close with my family. I prefer to avoid attention. Can we go now?”
After a long silence, he sighed. “I will meet you at the river.”
Finally.
Iryana turned hard on her heels and headed for the cliffs. Hopefully, she would calm down before she saw him again. She didn’t know how far the brigade’s home was, but traveling with Pyetar would not be a pleasant trip.