The building seemed to glow as lantern light spilled from the open doors and music bled into the square. A drummer, a flutist, and a few fiddlers played a traditional Istrin folk song that Iryana faintly remembered learning the steps to.
Iryana’s feet dragged as she forced herself toward the warehouse.
Clusters of people talked outside in the puddles of light spilling out; others bordered the inside of the building in loose clumps playing dice or cards, but most were in the center of the room dancing. Lanterns hung above the dance floor,leaving it brightly lit but casting shadows across the dancers’s faces. There was too much movement to pick out everyone that was there, but the usual tension of the last few weeks was gone.
It seemed pretty tame so far, but the night was still quite young.
She stepped into the party. The crush of people, the humidity in the air, all pressed in on Iryana—it was hard to breathe.
“I like your braids,” Vaneshta called out as she spun past. Her face was red from drink, and she was smiling, laughter bursting out of her as a new partner caught her. Silver beads hung from her neck.
“Oh, thanks.” Iryana reached up to touch her hair.
She had wrapped her braids in a crown around her head instead of letting them fall loose down her back like usual. It was how Hadima preferred to do it for festivals, although her sister usually wove flowers in too. Iryana pushed those memories away.
She didn’t need flowers in her hair.
Iryana looked around, smelling the sweet pies and honey cakes before she saw them. Deciding that would be the safest activity, Iryana headed toward the treats laid out on one of the large makeshift tables.
Before she made it a quarter way around the room, Vaneshta careened to a stop before her, holding out a flask.
Iryana forced herself to nod, returning Vaneshta’s smile, hoping a buzz would help her relax.
Taking the flask, Iryana quickly tilted it back against her lips, the flavors flooding her mouth. It was honeywine, one of her favorites. She loved the rich, syrupy taste of honey and the tart floral undertones of wildflowers. One of the many perks of summer. It ran down her throat easily as she swallowed and burned nicely in her chest and belly.
She realized most of the newer soldiers seemed to be absent, perhaps up to their own festivities in the hall. Either way, Iryana was glad not to see them.
“Come dance,” Vaneshta ordered, taking a swig of her own flask. She was already looking out at the new group forming for the next song, leaning toward it as if being pulled along.
The last time Iryana had been around dancing like this had been at a spring festival with her family and—no. She could not think of that.
The sight of the dancers gathering was too much, and Iryana shook her head. “No. Not this one. Go ahead.”
Vaneshta gave up quickly when Iryana refused to budge, swaying into the others and joining in easily with the steps.
Retreating to a bench at the side of the room, Iryana downed the honeywine as quickly as she could, hoping to banish her memories.
Searching the room, she found Vabihn dancing with his wife, Darish talking to Lidishta, and Shahn hovering by his little sister, who seemed engaged with a group of friends. The others were around somewhere, but it was hard to see much.
Vaneshta waved to her between dances to join them, but she just shook her head each time and gestured for Vaneshta to keep dancing.
She kept telling herself she’d join in the next time. Shewashere to get closer to her team after all. But each time her throat tightened and her stomach twisted. It wasn’t just that she’d last danced with her family—she’donlydanced with her family. With Hadima and little Misha, her cousins, and even her mother.
Now, she justcouldn’t.
Even though she wasn’t dancing herself, the room emanated heat, and Iryana found herself uncomfortably warm. Her skin was sticky, her face hot, and the hairs at the nape of her neck clung to her skin. It mirrored the way she felt inside.
She just hoped everyone was too distracted by their own merriment to notice her.
But eventually, a man moved in between her and the line of spinning soldiers.
Iryana looked up, meeting a pair of familiar hooded eyes.
Pyetar was staring down at her carefully; his face was flushed, and he wore only a shirt tucked into his trousers, the sleeves rolled back above his elbows.
She quickly sat up straighter.
“You look like you’re having fun,” Pyetar said sarcastically, lips tipping into a smirk.
