Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Feet skittering as she slid down a ditch, barely managing to stay on her feet, Iryana scrambled back up the other side.
The dakii were right behind her.
Reaching the top, Iryana kicked a fallen tree with all her might, not waiting to see it tumble down the trench toward the dakii. Hopefully giving her an extra moment.
She was moving so much slower, breathing ragged, but she could hear the water now.
Still, the dakii closed in through the moonlit trees.
She stumbled over roots and through hanging branches, barely deflecting a snapping jaw with her shield as she flung herself the other way.
Everything hurt; everything burned. But just as they were almost upon her, Iryana crested a small ledge overlooking the river.
She jumped and the cold swallowed her.
The shock of the freezing water froze her limbs as the current swept her under the surface and carried her away. Her lungs were close to bursting before she finally fought her way to air. She swam with the river, begging it to carry her through the Yuresh Valley as quickly as it could.
When she was far enough from the dakii that had been chasing her, Iryana rolled onto her back, floating instead. Stared at the bloated moon hanging above. She was battered and bleeding, barely clinging to consciousness.
She wasn’t sure how much of the numbness in her body was due to the cold water and how much was caused by her injuries; didn’t have the energy to care.
She just floated.
When she eventually hauled herself onto the muddy bank downstream, the forest was quiet.
Panting, Iryana took stock of herself. The blood had been washed off, and she’d smell of the river instead. Her white dress was far better disguised now, stained brown, black, and red. She couldn’t fight anymore, not with her arm, so she’d have to stay quiet. Move carefully.
Iryana ripped off a bit of cloth from a cleaner section of her skirt and tied it around her arm to slow the bleeding. There wasn’t much she could do about her side but press her hand to the wound and hope for the best.
But she’d done it. Her family was safe. And she still drew breath.
The moon was sinking toward the horizon when Iryana slowly inched back across the rope crossing.
Her legs shook, and her one good arm struggled to hold on to the top rope. She wasn’t in good enough shape to tie herself to the safety rope, so she’d gone without. Her spear was gone, and her quiver left behind with her cousins. She still had her bow, but did not know what shape it was in.
She couldn’t feel much of anything anymore, other than the cold that had seeped all the way into her bones. Everything was just a dull ache that permeated through her shaking muscles. Her hand struggled to grasp the rope, every joint far too stiff.
The soft groan of the river below hid the sound of blood and water dripping off of her. It would hide the sound of her falling in, too.
Iryana was amazed she had made it out of the forest, surprised her muscles had pulled her up the tree to the rope crossing no matter how agonizingly slow it had been.
As she hung high in the air, she wondered if she had made it all that way just to slip and crash into the river, to slip into a peaceful death as she knew she lacked the strength to fight above the surface twice in one night.
But then her feet hit the edge of the tower and she tumbled inside, groaning as her good arm fell back down to her side. It felt like her shoulder ripped a little, hot pain stabbing into the joint.
As Iryana gasped, trying to catch her breath, she watched as a puddle slowly gathered beneath her. She could only hope the mix of black and red, watered down into a thin stream that trickled off of her, would just look like dirt when it dried.
When her breathing slowed enough to slow the spasms in her chest, she looked away from the puddle.
The door to the lookout at the top of the tower was open, a beam of moonlight cast across the wooden floor, leaving the rest of the tower in a light glow.
She was not alone.
Leaning against the far wall, with one crossed arm catching the light, was Pyetar.
She froze, her muscles clenching. He was looking right at her, and she at him.
His eyes were heavy-lidded, as if he had been asleep, but the longer they stared at each other, the more that sleepiness vanished and raw intensity replaced it. His jaw was tight, his eyes dark in the dimly lit room.
In the rush of trying to find and then protect her family, she had forgotten he’d tried to stop her from leaving altogether.
Pyetar pushed off the wall and stalked toward her, each move sharp and tense. Iryana squared her shoulders, temper rising in anticipation.
His voice was a low growl. “What were you doing outside the wall?”
Had he been waiting there for her to come back? For the entire night? She could only imagine how many theories he could have come up with in so much time.
“I had a mission, one I can’t tell you about,” she snapped, raising her chin. Let him think that’s what the letter he’d seen her reading was about. It wasn’t technically a lie. “So step aside and forget you saw me tonight.”
It was shadowed in the tower, impossible to see clearly. As long as she didn’t draw attention to the state she was in, Pyetar wouldn’t know. Iryana desperately hoped he wouldn’t notice, wouldn’t see how vulnerable she was.
Instead of stepping aside, he stepped even closer. “Did Karvek send you out there?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“I think I need to have a talk with my brother,” he snapped. “He can’t send initiates out there like that, and certainly not mine. He’s going to get you killed.”
“No,” Iryana gasped, mind spinning. Pyetar could not tell Karvek. “You can’t say anything to him.”
“Why not?”
She couldn’t quite make out his expression, the moonlight gathering against his back leaving his face in even darker shadows in contrast.
Why not? What could she even tell him that would not dig her deeper? She hadn’t a clue.
“Karvek didn’t send you, did he?” His voice was tight.
Again, what could she say? So she said nothing.
“Who sent you?”
Iryana slowly stepped to the side. Maybe he would just let her pass like he did earlier.
“Who sent you, Iryana?” he demanded, cutting her off.
“No one!” she snapped, looking past him.
She didn’t think she could stay upright much longer. She needed to get away from him.
He kept watching her.
“No one sent me,” she pleaded, voice losing strength. “I sent myself.”
“Why? Do you have a death wish?” Pyetar’s hands grasped her shoulders. “Where the hell did you—”
Iryana gasped when his hands squeezed, pain flashing through her body. She tried to hide it, smother it, but her knees nearly buckled and a wave of nausea stole her breath.
His hands flew away from her. As she sucked in a few breaths to clear her head and wait out the burst of pain, Pyetar kept staring at her.
He had been blocking the moonlight, keeping her in shadow, but then he stepped aside.
She knew how she must look. She was freezing, her hair and clothes still damp from her dives into the Yuresh River to escape the dakii.
Her right arm was drenched in blood despite the cloth she had tied around the gash just below her shoulder.
There was a cut on her side, too, but he wouldn’t be able to see that, not with the mud splattered across the rest of her.
“You’re covered in blood.” His voice was soft, so different from his earlier tone that Iryana blinked with surprise.
Had she bled that much again?
“Don’t worry about it,” Iryana answered, just as lightly.
Could he see her shivering, see the way her arm hung? She was trying to stand straight, but was she hunched over her battered side? She just needed to make it back to the barracks, and then—Iryana winced. Vaneshta would be there.
She would think of something.
Iryana tried to move around Pyetar, hoping he would just let her go, but her muscles were stiff and barely responding, and she stumbled.
Pyetar’s arms were around her before she could fall. He pulled the bow off her shoulder and slung it over his before scooping her into his arms. Iryana’s head tilted back with a grunt as her body protested the movement.
“I don’t need your help,” she groaned.
He looked at her, his face inches from hers. “You’re bleeding, you’re cold, and if anyone sees you, you’ll have to answer for sneaking out. As your captain, I’m responsible for your mistakes.”
Iryana didn’t have an answer.
“I’m going to help you.” His voice was tight, uncompromising.
She should say no, try to keep her distance. There’d been a moment when they were dancing where she’d truly wondered if he wasn’t that bad. But she’d been drunk, and he still had to obey his brother. Had to keep everyone in line.
Besides, he was right about the state she was in, and she wanted desperately to not have to worry about anything, even if it was only for a few moments. So she answered weakly, “Fine.”
His breath rushed out, and his eyes furrowed, as if surprised. Quietly, he carried her down the stairs and into the passageway through the wall.
It was dark, but Pyetar seemed to know exactly where they were going, walking quickly around the fortress.
He seemed as used to sneaking around as she was, and that surprised her even though it shouldn’t have.
If he was trying to stop Karvek from starting a war, he’d have to do so from the shadows. From behind his brother’s back.
There was a chill inside the wall, and Iryana couldn’t keep herself from sinking into Pyetar’s chest, into the heat his body was giving off.
She drifted off a few times as he carried her, missing where he came out of the wall, but she felt his cloak going around her as he snuck across a path and into one of the fenced yards.
Iryana could see the barracks; they had gone past it, and Pyetar was approaching the back of a house.
Where was he taking her?