Chapter 23 #3
“I just don’t understand what you’re trying to do,” he said.
“You say you didn’t know he was taking over the 18th, but you still helped him.
” He sighed, dragging a hand down his face.
“And now you’re running off alone, doing gods-know-what.
I—” He exhaled sharply. “I don’t know what to do about you. You are making everything harder.”
That should have sent her bristling, coaxed a sharp retort from her.
But Iryana said nothing. She was too focused on his nearness. The space between them, his voice, and the fact that she didn’t really want to fight with him.
Her thoughts were pulling in too many directions at once, and he was too close, too steady. That tight feeling low in her stomach twisted again. It made it hard to think, and that she felt anything at all just made her angry.
There was only one thing she knew with absolute clarity.
She needed the well.
She didn’t know what Pyetar planned to do about his brother. But they weren’t enemies, not anymore. Maybe they hadn’t ever been. And they had to stop working against each other.
“I wasn’t lying,” she finally said. “Karvek didn’t send me.”
Pyetar’s lips parted like he meant to speak, but he didn’t. Instead he waited, watching her warily.
“If you ever tell anyone any of this,” Iryana said, her voice flat, “I will kill you.”
And she meant it.
“If I were going to betray you, I would have done it already.” His voice was as hard as hers. He almost sounded insulted.
Tension tightened between them, thick and almost painful. She didn’t want to trust him, but she already did. Not enough for what she was about to tell him, but she was running out of time.
“The Kleesolds can’t hold on to our post anymore. Half of the family is air-forged now, which isn’t enough against the dakii. The duchess is going to surrender the valley before winter, divvy us up between other posts.”
She let out a slow breath. “If I am initiated, I’ll be metal-forged. I will know where the well is. If those of us coming of age can be metal-forged too, we have a chance to keep the post.”
Pyetar was quiet for a long moment. “What you’re trying to do is almost impossible, and dangerous. You’re risking a lot for a family you didn’t seem all that close to.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. This was why she disliked Pyetar so much. He didn’t let anything slide. Where Karvek quietly accepted her broken pieces, welcomed them even, Pyetar poked at them.
“It was the only choice,” she said tightly. “And I had to do something.”
“Why do you care about them so much?” he pressed. “I saw where you lived. Alone on that ridge, far away from the rest of them.”
“I chose to live alone,” she snapped, but then her voice softened. “But it’s not because I don’t love my family. I do, I just… can’t be around them.”
She shook her head slightly, jaw clenched, but forced herself to continue. “Just trust that I’ll do whatever it takes to protect my family. I know Karvek is a murderer, and I don’t want to help him. But I need to be accepted into the brigade. I need to be metal-forged.”
Pyetar was quiet again, but something shifted behind his eyes.
“You went out to warn them,” he said slowly, realization dawning in his eyes. “About the dakii.”
She gave a small nod and looked away. “They were in the Yuresh Valley. I had to make sure they got back safely.”
“I actually tried to leave the brigade once,” Pyetar admitted quietly. “Tried to disappear, join one of the settlements and forget about my brother.”
Iryana’s eyes snapped back to his.
“But Karvek found out. Somehow.” His voice was pained. “My friends who took me in ended up dead. I know it was my brother.” Pyetar rolled his shoulders back, like he was pushing a weight off. “I can’t leave. Not without Karvek killing anyone who helps me.”
Then his voice quieted further. “Please be careful around him. I know you’ve seen what he’s capable of.”
Iryana could only nod. Pyetar was staring at her so intently.
Then his eyes flicked down, just briefly, to her mouth.
The moment stretched between them, breathless and still. She could see it now. He kept himself as isolated as she did. They were both guarded and alone.
And this—the tension pulsing between them. It was familiar. Almost comforting.
She’d always turned to distraction when she was stretched too thin. And right now? She was frayed, burning at both ends.
But it would be a mistake. He knew too much already. That, if nothing else, meant he was the wrong kind of distraction. She saw him realize it at the same time she did.
He pulled back suddenly, awkwardly. Like flinching from a fire that’d burned him.
He cleaned up quickly, almost clumsily, not meeting her eyes. Iryana slipped off the table.
Pyetar brought her a clean shirt and a fresh bowl of water, then some more rags to clean herself up.
Then he left, giving her space. Or maybe protecting them from what they’d both briefly considered doing. She didn’t bother waiting for him to come back.
She slipped out his back door and into the soft wash of dawn.
Iryana managed to avoid both Horvol brothers for a few days. She had the chaos of the fortress to thank. Vaneshta had given her some strange looks when she’d moved too gingerly and when she saw the bundle of Pyetar’s clothes shoved in the corner. Thankfully, she’d said nothing about it.
The extra herds of dakii traveling through the area mostly moved on, calling for a flurry of patrols and scouting missions to check the lay of the land. And amidst the chaos, they still had the normal chores of summer. Honey was gathered, fish were caught, and fields were tended.
Then a representative from the King Commander had visited a few days ago, arriving with far more pomp and revelry than was truly called for. Karvek had been absent from the hall through most of that visit, Pyetar distracted and missing most of their team’s training sessions.
The visit had seemed to divide the fort. Some didn’t mind the King Commander, liked the idea of sticking together and working together. Vaneshta was one of them. But many, the newer soldiers especially, seemed to itch at the idea of more control. Iryana just wanted whatever would bring peace.
Despite his claims when he took control, Karvek had entertained the representative.
Almost as soon as the representative left, a rider had come to Myura River, calling for help from one of the villages of water-forged. It wasn’t as if the entire fortress scrambled to answer their call, but Iryana was shocked with how much and how quickly help was sent.
It calmed the quiet arguments about the King Commander at least.
Iryana had wanted to know how the soldiers operated when truly protecting one of the settlements, but her team had been assigned near-constant patrols instead.
The entire fortress was settling back down now, but there was a buzz of energy that hadn’t been there before. Everyone seemed… awake.
The arguments were louder now, the disquiet more obvious. Some called for quicker action on Karvek’s part, some called for careful patience. Iryana kept her mouth shut.
But now her streak of avoiding the Horvol brothers, or at least one of them, was about to end.
A young soldier escorted Iryana up the stairs to the second floor of the estate.
She looked around nervously, seeing the hallways and glimpses into various rooms for the first time.
The floor was for Karvek’s chambers and the new major’s, but she wasn’t sure what else.
She could faintly hear music dancing through the hall.
The summons had contained little detail.
Just the time and place. Karvek had been a general for almost a month, and he still hadn’t asked her to do anything else.
Part of her was relieved, but other parts were frustrated.
She needed to be forged by winter, and yet she didn’t feel any closer to speeding the timeline up.
Perhaps that was changing, though.
The invite had arrived while Iryana was eating her dinner, a young soldier informing her of the request. No one had said anything, but Vabihn had laughed while Vaneshta watched her with a concerned frown.
That was hours ago now.
The door before her was pushed open, and Iryana stepped inside.
Furs and cushions were spread across the soft-looking rugs where there was space.
It was some sort of sitting room, although more furniture than had ever been intended for the room had been shoved inside.
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting from the small chandelier and the sconces along the walls.
The first thing to catch her eye was the movement at the center of the room. Two young women were dancing. She didn’t think they were soldiers, didn’t recognize them at least, but they were clearly comfortable.
It wasn’t the familiar festival dances that drove their spinning bodies and graceful arms, but something entirely new. Something slower and more sensual, less choreographed.
It was as if the lute and harp players were leading them with their notes.
At first glance, their clothing was typical of what the ketsan would wear to parties: form-fitting bodices and flowing sleeves and skirts.
Jeweled headdresses draped over their hair.
The only thing out of place was their hair, not braided up and pinned under the headdress, but in loose waves that spun around them.
She stared for a moment, feeling as if she were seeing into the past.
Then it became clear how they differed from the ketsan she remembered. The fabric of their dresses was near-translucent, hints of their bodies obvious every time they slowed.
They were not dressed as ketsan, but as courtesans.
Iryana abruptly looked away, nerves climbing as she looked over the room.
She recognized Darish and some of the more favored captains: Lyuna, Nosh, Gintar, and other new captains she couldn’t name. Pyetar was, unsurprisingly, absent. Karvek lounged at the center-back of the room, which seemed to be his preferred location. One of power.
There were others in the room too; young women and a few men, also dressed like courtesans. They were interwoven with the officers, leaning against them or talking quietly in their ears or massaging arms and backs, or even dancing slowly in their laps.
Trying to fight the panic in her eyes, Iryana looked to Karvek.
He was the only one in the room without at least one courtesan attending to him.
His lean frame was clothed in ketsan finery, like every time she’d seen him since he took over as general.
His short, wavy chestnut hair was slightly tousled, like he’d styled it perfectly and then run his hand through it. Even lounging, he didn’t look relaxed.
She didn’t understand what was happening.
There weren’t courtesans in the world anymore, were there?
In all the nights she’d spent in the hall, the soldiers and civilians of the fort seemed to entertain each other.
Was this a treat reserved for those in charge?
Something new that Karvek was bringing back?
Karvek was watching her—not the others in the room—with a curious smirk on his face. He waved her forward, gesturing to the arm of the red upholstered chair he lounged in.
Her stomach roiled, unease slithering along her skin.
Careful not to disturb the dancers or those watching, Iryana trailed along the outskirts of the room, begging her heart to calm its fast march, until she stood before him.
“General,” she greeted, trying to appear at ease.
“Iryana, please join me.” He gestured to the arm of his chair again.
Iryana didn’t know what was expected of her in a room like this, what he wanted, though her mind spun with worry over the possibilities.
Would Karvek have brought her to entertain him?
Did he think she would enjoy the show? Was there some other reason he had summoned her?
The others in the room were clearly commanders with higher status, perhaps he was showing them that he favored her? The number of options was unsettling.
But it didn’t matter. She needed to be forged, and he was her best path to the well. So she sat beside him. Braced for what was to come.