Chapter 42
Chapter Forty-Two
Iryana tried kicking, biting, and even using the last of her strength to summon her dagger to drive it into Karvek’s side. Nothing worked.
With each attempt, Karvek seemed to enjoy it more. If she let him take her into the estate, she would never be free again.
She looked around desperately for anyone and anything that could help. But there was no one left. Tears burned her eyes and poured down her cheeks. It was like Marisha all over again. Worse. A thousand times worse.
A sob forced its way out of her throat. She’d wanted to keep her clan together, and instead she’d surely gotten half of them killed. She was poison. Destroying everything that was good, everything that she touched.
Her fingers dug into Karvek, almost ready to beg for death. To be free of the guilt that was strangling her.
Karvek met her eyes, the promise of a slow death glinting in them.
She deserved it. Found herself sagging in his grip, defeated.
She had entirely given up hope, but in the corner of her eye, she saw a figure launch at Darish.
Lidishta.
She sent Darish to the ground. And then she was throwing knives and rocks at Karvek, kicking out at his legs.
It was a pathetic attempt to kill them or even cause much of an injury, but it surprised Karvek.
When his arms loosened, Iryana used her new leverage to rip free.
“Go,” Lidishta shouted, already retreating in the opposite direction. “GO.”
Iryana didn’t hesitate; she bolted. She may not have deserved to make it out, but she wouldn’t turn her back on her last chance to save them.
The shadows of the fort welcomed her as she followed the familiar paths through the walls and out of the fort, not pausing to look around her. She was singleminded in her focus to escape.
To escape and rescue them. To make up for her mistakes.
She didn’t pause until she was safely across the river before she gave in to the need to look back.
Heart shredded, face damp with tears she kept trying to wipe away, Iryana stared at the walls of the fort. They held her family. Her friends. Pyetar.
She had known when she looked upon those walls for the first time that she would end up failing her family.
She had never imagined just how thoroughly.
How was she going to save them? Hot tears poured down her cheeks, and Iryana pressed a fist to her mouth to muffle her wail.
It felt hopeless, like they were gone forever.
Lidishta had bought her the chance to escape, but what could she even do?
She stumbled into the forest.
Her sister. She would find her sister.
There were so many dakii in the forest, wild and snarling, but they seemed intent on reaching the fort, and it wasn’t hard to sneak past them.
The reaching pine needles curled over Iryana as she ran past, like stretching finger bones. The sun was high in the sky, but it felt like the short puddles of shadow were growing, like they would swallow her up.
Everything was pressing in, closing in around her.
They were all captured. Captured or dead.
Her body was bruised, her armor needed repairing, and she knew she was bleeding in a few places. She felt disconnected from her body though; all of her focus was on making it to her sister, grandmother and the other brigade leaders.
They would know what to do; they had to.
The scouts stared as Iryana ran past, but didn’t dare leave their post. Iryana stumbled past them, whipping through the trees. The camp was tucked against an overhanging cliff, and she had to slip between the rocks to burst into the clearing where everyone was waiting.
Iryana halted.
Tents of browns and tans had been erected against the tall rock wall behind them.
Reserve soldiers, cooks, healers, and others milled around waiting to be useful.
It was a swirl of muted colors in every direction.
Then the crowd noticed Iryana, standing there with her dirt and blood-streaked clothes, eyes wide and haunted.
Their heads spun to her, and their faces slowly fell.
Oh, gods, how would she tell them?
Iryana looked through the growing crowd, but their faces blurred together. She sucked in a shuddered breath as her vision darkened. She didn’t know what to do, what to say.
Then she saw Hadima rushing through the blur of darkening colors. She carried two baskets of wraps and ointments with a team of others trailing behind her, likely more healers. When Hadima saw Iryana, she handed the larger basket to the others and sent them away.
Hadima rushed toward her. Iryana could only wait, not able to take another step.
Warm arms wrapped around her, and Iryana wanted to curl up against her sister like she had as a little girl and cry. Let Hadima push her hair back and tell her that everything was fine in that bossy way of hers. The way Iryana had seen her comforting Misha.
“Shh,” Hadima whispered. “We can’t talk out here.”
Iryana was brought to a large tent, layers of fabrics and tarps stretched and draped over it. Anything to muffle the sound.
She felt wooden as she was pulled into the stifling heat inside. It was already set up with tables, benches, and rugs covering the ground. Her grandmother was leaning over the table, arguing with Nenad, Jesha, and a couple of others that Iryana didn’t recognize.
“You’re shaking,” Hadima said. “You need to sit down before you collapse.”
But there wasn’t time for that.
“We’ve lost,” Iryana blurted, the rest of what happened spilling out of her mouth like sick.
Nenad wrapped his arms around Jesha, pulling her close to whisper in her ear. It took Vesima a moment to gather herself, but she had led the Kleesolds through fifteen years of surviving the dakii. She was not a woman who gave in easily.
“Sit, everyone,” the First demanded, cutting off the others in their panicked rambles.
They gathered around the table, though Iryana sat at a smaller side table with Hadima, who had been given permission to treat Iryana while they talked.
“Is Pyetar…” Nenad asked, face tight.
“Not when I left.” Iryana swallowed. It was all she could be sure of.
Hadima’s face scrunched with concern as she poked and prodded at Iryana carefully, the small table consumed by her supplies.
Iryana knew her injuries weren’t serious, though her inability to take a deep breath was likely worrying her sister.
It wasn’t an injury that caused the tightness in her chest.
“Do we have enough soldiers to launch another attack?” the First asked, face disturbingly calm.
“No, not even close,” Jesha answered with a grimace.
“Do we think he will kill the prisoners or negotiate for some kind of ransom?” someone else asked.
Iryana couldn’t listen to them, closing her eyes and desperately trying to remain calm.
“Hey,” Hadima whispered as she cleaned a nasty looking cut on Iryana’s arm. “It’s not your fault.”
“I failed them.” Her voice sounded wooden even to her own ears.
Hadima’s hand froze. “I failed them first. If I had killed Karvek before, no one would be in danger today. Or better yet, if I had let someone more qualified go in my place, you or Uncle Dinhal could have killed Karvek.”
Swallowing down a wave of emotion, Iryana admitted quietly, “I don’t think he could have.”
“Regardless, it wasn’t your fault. We’re going to figure this out.”
A tear leaked down Iryana’s cheek. “I thought I could do this—be Third and lead our people, but—”
“Stop it,” Hadima growled, pulling out a needle and thread to stitch up the wound. “We’re all they have, so we can’t give up. If you want to blame yourself or mourn your mistakes, do it after we’ve saved them. Don’t give up, please.”
Iryana blinked, staring at her sister. Some of the shock parted, and Iryana felt a little stabler, clearer. “I won’t. I won’t ever give up on them.”
“Iryana.” The First pulled her attention back to the main discussion. “Do you think Karvek would be amenable to releasing his hostages for payment?”
She knew the answer without having to think. “No, he won’t release them, not without demanding far more than we would be willing to give him.”
“Are you sure?” one of the smaller brigade leaders scoffed. “Everyone has a price.”
Iryana felt her temper warming. They needed better ideas than these. “Karvek would ask for all of your territory and the allegiance of your soldiers before he would consider letting anyone go.”
“Surely not.” Jesha clenched her jaw.
“He defeated us. Holding our people is a display of power. He loses that power if he gives them up. Only more power would sway him.”
“It’s not an option,” Nenad said quietly.
The First shook her head. “No, it is not.”
The thought of abandoning them was not something Iryana would consider. She couldn’t stop seeing her family on their knees before Karvek’s soldiers. The sight of Teshya wrapped up in her husband’s arms. The sight of Pyetar; the way he was looking at her. A shudder wracked her whole body.
Karvek was obsessed with power, with control. With no one seeing him weak or vulnerable. Her betrayal had to be driving him crazy.
If done just right… “He might accept a duel,” she realized.
“Then we challenge him to a duel,” one leader declared.
“And who could defeat him?” Iryana demanded.
“Some of our personal guard are brilliant metal-forged fighters,” Jesha answered.
“No.” Iryana rubbed her face with the arm Hadima wasn’t stitching back together. “He has an advantage against metal-forgings.”
“I thought he was metal-forged.”
“He is but—” Iryana hesitated. There was only one thing that made sense, but it was impossible.
“But what, Iryana?” her grandmother asked, voice strained.
“I think he is double-forged.”
The First narrowed her eyes, and the others gasped.
“That’s impossible,” Hadima said loudly.
“Are we sure?” Nenad asked, looking at his wife.
Jesha frowned. “I don’t know anyone who’s tried, but I’ve heard the stories.”
“There was someone from the city I grew up in who tried,” Vesima cut in. “They died horribly.”
The tent was quiet.