Chapter Twenty-Eight #2
A soft hand squeezed her shoulder, and Iryana looked back toward Hadima. Her heart sped up at the anguish there.
“The Kleesold Guardians have no heirs; the Second is gone.” Hadima’s voice was heavy.
The mourning bouquets were for the Second?
“What happened to Gornhal?” He was Vesima’s nephew, barely middle-aged. He hadn’t been the largest of the Kleesold men, but he was tough and scrappy. She had heard countless stories of the scrapes he had gotten himself out of.
“Dakii, what else?”
Her eyes found the Second’s son, Velimik, sitting near the side of the room, curled up and staring blankly at them. Her heart ached for him. But then the reality of what it meant for the clan hit her.
Iryana’s head was spinning. A guardian family had to have an heir; their entire future was based upon it. Surely this couldn’t change things that much, though? There were rules, but—
“Who cares who the heir is? We just need to pick someone and worry about taking control of the valley back!” Kladara threw her arms out wildly, her voice sounding hoarse and overused.
Part of her was glad that the cousins were fighting back now, no longer resigned to the clan’s downfall, but the rest of her was spinning.
“There are no options that follow the accords, dear.” Aunt Emadya reached down to pat her daughter, but Kladara spun out of the way.
“But surely now we can—” Hadima started but was immediately cut off by Kladara, who was even louder now.
“I know the rules, Mother. But it would be stupid to hold to the same rules we did before the dakii,” Kladara snapped angrily. It didn’t seem to be the first time they had that same fight.
“It’s our tradition,” Levek interjected stiffly. “Our legacy. We aren’t a guardian family without it.” His brows raised as if daring his older sister to argue with him.
Tonhald handed the baby to his wife and walked toward his siblings, hands raised. “This isn’t the time to fight; we will figure something out. Together. By not fighting.”
“Like it will matter either way.” Edvar shrugged his thin shoulders, his face slack and eyes glassy. Was he drunk so early in the day?
Iryana took a step away from their argument, trying to sort her thoughts enough to see a way out of this.
“We’ll figure something out, right?” Misha asked softly, now clinging to Hadima’s arm.
Hadima tucked a few loose strands of hair behind Misha’s ear, wearing a tight smile. “Of course we will; we always do.”
Iryana could barely hear them over all the arguments going on around the room.
“Enough!” Aunt Emadya and the First yelled at the same time.
Kladara glared at her mother, but the younger two hung their heads and shut their mouths. Tonhald and Hadima just looked relieved the fighting had stopped.
The room was silent for a moment, and Iryana hoped they could figure out a plan now. It couldn’t be too late, not after everything they had gone through. After everything she had gone through.
And then the cry of a newborn pierced through the air.
“I’m so sorry,” Teshya gasped as she started bouncing and shushing at Anara. Tonhald hurried back toward them.
“Now look what you’ve done,” Edvar snapped at Kladara, who puffed up her cheeks, rearing back to begin the fighting anew.
The First climbed onto the nearest bench, Uncle Byorsh hurrying to hold her steady when she wobbled, but she swatted him away.
“Darsha, please take the unforged to their rooms,” she ordered her niece, who barely looked like she was holding it together.
Stepping from the wall where she had retreated, Darsha began gathering up her own three children, her nephew, and gestured for Misha to follow.
There was relief on her face, like Darsha wanted to be anywhere but in that hall, and Iryana couldn’t blame her.
She had lost her husband to the dakii years ago, her mother too, and now her brother?
She was the only living adult on their side of the family, likely responsible for her nephew now too.
Poor Velimik. Iryana’s eyes burned as she watched the small five-year-old cling to his aunt.
“I will go nurse Anara and put her down for a nap,” Teshya murmured, wincing and rubbing at her temples as she slipped from the room.
The First stared down those that remained. “If any of you aren’t prepared to discuss this like adults, you may leave.” She took extra time staring down some of Iryana’s cousins.
Iryana found herself pulled by Tonhald onto one of the central benches. Her whole body felt stiff as all her hopes and relief from the last week were wrung from her drip by drip.
“So you’ve joined the gangs?” The First said suddenly, making Iryana whip her head toward her grandmother.
Iryana swallowed. “Yes, the 18th. To find the metal well.”
“And you didn’t think to tell us about this plan?” The First’s glare turned onto Hadima. “You’ve been hiding this from us. What is the point of being a Kleesold Guardian if you will not let us help you? If you won’t do these things with us?”
“I’m so sorry, Grandmother, you’re right,” Hadima answered meekly, twisting one of her pale braids. “It was one of Iryana’s conditions that no one—”
Iryana cut in, “I didn’t want anyone to get their hopes up. I—could have easily failed. And the less you all were involved, the less likely it would backfire on the clan…”
Though that didn’t even feel like it contained half her worries.
The First watched her for a moment, and it was the same way she usually did in her office when she was wondering if Iryana would finally come home. Her shallow breathing, her pounding heart—it all seemed to get worse under that stare.
“No more secrets.” The First took a slow breath, rubbing at her face until a look of exhaustion so pronounced crossed over her face that Iryana worried she was about to collapse.
“Then I should mention that a few of us found out a while ago,” Tonhald admitted quietly.
Kladara glared at her brother.
The First just sighed. “We will deal with that later.”
“How did you do it?” Uncle Byorsh asked, looking intently at Iryana. His leg was still bandaged, and he’d lost weight.
Iryana stammered for a moment, unsure what to say.
Hadima sighed. “She was lucky enough to have impressed the 18th’s leader when he saw her taking down a dakya in the forest. And he invited her.”
“You went into the Yuresh Valley after I’d forbidden it?” Vesima snapped, making Iryana wince.
“He was in the area?” Aunt Emadya cut in, her face scrunched with worry.
The First gave Iryana a cutting look. “So you must have told them you weren’t one of us? That you had no loyalties? That’s the only way they would have taken in a guardian.”
Something foul ran its way over Iryana’s body. Her hands squeezed so tightly that her nails bit into her palms, but she couldn’t stop. She needed to leave, to breathe fresh air, but she was surrounded and her grandmother had her pinned in place with that stare.
Voice tight, Iryana forced herself to answer.
“I’ve always been a loner, so it wasn’t too hard to convince them.
I just trained with them and scouted and…
” Iryana gulped. And helped Karvek murder the late general, prepare for war, who knows what else.
“I have a guardian’s training, so they were impressed. ”
Iryana pulled the map to the well out of her bag and placed it in front of the First. “This is a map to the Temple of Noshriven, where there is a metal well. The Keeper there, Tomislar, said he would forge anyone who could get there.”
The First looked carefully over the map. “If we can get there.”
They had a metal well, Iryana had done her part.
Her grandmother and the others would know what to do now; it would be off Iryana’s shoulders.
And they would have more important things to worry about than Iryana.
She could sink back into the background while they finished saving the family until they forgot the part Iryana had played.
But the First was still watching her so intently as she sat back down that Iryana squirmed.
“How much do they trust you?” came a scratchy voice from the far side of the room. Iryana’s Uncle Dinhal limped closer to them, watching her intently. “Enough for you to learn their plans?”
She froze.
Naturally they’d ask her to do more; they would keep asking for more until she failed, and then they would blame her for it all. “I don’t know.”
“Of course she could,” Tonhald said.
Iryana opened her mouth to argue, but her family was throwing out all sorts of ways for her to help.
Kladara wanted her to sabotage them; Aunt Emadya wanted her to convince them to take out more of the dakii; Dinhal wanted her to spy on them.
With each suggestion, each demand, Iryana’s throat grew dryer.
She looked at the door, so far away. She’d have to make it past her cousins, who were gathered so close she’d have to shoulder her way through, but how could she explain that? They would never understand.
She didn’t want this. To be wrapped up in their plans and thrown to the wolves.
Then Kladara’s too-loud interruption quieted the others. “None of these ideas matter if the Kleesolds don’t have a Second or a Third.”
They were all quiet for a moment, and Iryana tried to calm her worry, just happy their attention had moved on.
“We still don’t have anyone who qualifies,” Edvar grumbled.
“If we can forge the new guardians in a metal well, there will be options,” Aunt Emadya pointed out.
“Will be. But not for a while,” Kladara didn’t hesitate to add. “I still think we should have the rules changed, or throw them out entirely.”
“But now we have—” Hadima started, but she was drowned out immediately.
“The only thing holding this border together,” Levek snapped at his sister across the table, “is tradition and duty, and you want us to throw that away? It’s the only thing we have left!”
“We have each other!”
“For now.”
Hadima leaned between them, eyes wide with desperation. “Hey, we all care about the Kleesold family’s honor. We will do what we must.”
Hadima was always the peacemaker of the bunch.
The First twisted her mouth. “The duchess has been very clear in her plans for us, what the conditions of our being able to keep this post were.”
Iryana made the mistake of looking over toward her grandmother to find the First staring right at her. Iryana blinked, nearly looking away, but there was something accusatory in that stare that she couldn’t bring herself to look away from.
“We have a new metal-forged now,” the First reminded them all. “One in the third generation. One who infiltrated the gangs.” With each of Vesima’s words, Iryana’s heart beat faster. “The duchess would accept Iryana as the Kleesold’s Third.”
The room exploded into a silence so loud that Iryana could do nothing but recoil from it.
Hadima’s head snapped around, looking at her with wide, hopeful eyes. They were all staring at her, Iryana realized as her stomach tumbled. They looked at her as if she were the answer, as if they could ask such a thing and expect her to save them.
It was a fucking joke.
Kladara broke the silence first. “That will work; we just need to get the duchess on board.”
“And then as the others come of age they can be metal-forged,” Dinhal continued.
Tonhald smiled. “If we have new metal-forged, more would be willing to help out the post.”
Iryana stared at them, face frozen in a mask that hopefully hid the horror she felt. “How can you ask that of me? You’d be stuck with me; an heir can’t be replaced. So you’d buy a little time for the clan and then make me run it into the ground? No, thank you.”
They quieted and looked at her with surprise, but Iryana couldn’t stop the words tumbling from her mouth. “You don’t want me to lead the Kleesolds after grandmother, you can’t.”
“But you could—” Hadima tried to say, clutching onto her arm, but Iryana leaped up from the bench and stepped back.
“No, I can’t. I can’t be the Third. That’s a joke.” After everything she had done, everything they had done…
The First watched Iryana, not reacting to her outburst.
“I know you wanted more time, that you don’t feel ready,” the First said calmly, talking directly to Iryana. “But the fact that you did this—infiltrated the 18th, spent months with those corrupt thugs—shows that you can do this. That you’re ready.”
Iryana couldn’t stop herself from shaking her head. No, her grandmother was wrong.
“We need a Third,” Vesima said calmly.
“Figure something else out,” Iryana demanded, voice shrill. “I won’t. I can’t. And you wouldn’t be suggesting me as Third if you had a single other option.”
Vaguely, she was aware that a few voices were trying to argue with her, but her head was pounding and she ignored them.
She stumbled to her feet, everything spinning. She couldn’t stay. “I will send word if I learn anything from the 18th that can help.” Iryana rushed for the door.
“You’re going back?” Hadima cried out with a gasp as she chased Iryana into the courtyard.
The sky was angry; dark, roiling clouds loomed overhead. She could feel the tension in the air from the storm about to break.
“I can’t stay here; I can’t help with this,” she shouted back to her sister, voice rising into a cry. “I would ruin everything!”
Then Iryana broke out into a run, needing to put as much distance between herself and the rest of her family as she could. Hadima, thankfully, didn’t follow.
Her family didn’t know how to act around her.
When she’d still lived there, they’d talk around her as if she weren’t even there.
Go off on their own and not invite her. It wasn’t intentional; she was just so other that they didn’t think of her.
And when Hadima forced it, Iryana always ruined things.
Sometimes she tried too hard and grew frustrated at every bit of distance between them.
Grew so angry that they avoided her. And when she tried to be calm, to just be accepting of it and not try as hard, it was like she slipped into the shadows.
When she was around them, she second guessed everything she did.
Worried about how she’d upset them next, how she’d push them further away.
And any time they wanted to rely on her, the times she’d let them down, haunted her.
In her mind, she couldn’t escape those moments when everyone had realized Marisha was dead. When the clan had blamed her in anger.
In the years she lived with them before saying her guardian oaths, Iryana realized she would never truly be a part of her family again.
She couldn’t live like that, let alone take responsibility for the entire clan.
Lightning flashed overhead, a deep roar of thunder rumbled through the valley, and the sky opened up. Iryana didn’t bother pulling the hood of her oiled cloak over her head. She just let the rain soak her through. Let it hide her tears.