In the back of her mind, she wondered if she was still playing the part or if she was actually having fun. That voice was easily silenced by another stream of honeywine down her throat. She felt too good to let herself worry. She was always worrying.
The song switched into a partnered dance, and the warehouse became a chaotic mess of arms and legs as dancers grabbed onto someone for the song.Iryana felt herself tucked against a warm chest, one large hand splayed across the arch in her back, another holding her hand.
When she looked up to greet her partner, she sucked in a small gasp as she found Pyetar looking down at her with a slight frown, as if also surprised they had ended up partnered. She hadn’t even realized he’d joined the dancing.
“Captain,” she greeted; a slight slur to her words.
They began to twirl around the room, and Iryana laughed at the oddity of it. She wasdancingwithPyetar. Never in a million years would she have predicted such a thing.
Pyetar’s face somehow grew even grouchier.
She found it hilarious. “I told you I could have fun. You were wrong. Admit it!”
“It’s not that. I just… This is the first time I’ve seen you actually smile.”
That wiped the smile off her face instantly as her stomach flipped, and she hurried to change the subject. “Well, I don’t see you enjoying yourself very often either. You’re always brooding. Or threatening violence. Ordoingviolence.”
“I don’t brood,” he argued, his face a complete contradiction.
He looked around them, perhaps nervously, but Iryana was far too drunk to tell.
Iryana laughed more freely than she had in years. “You’re doing it right now.”
Pyetar just shook his head at her, but the corner of his mouth tipped up.
Iryana let herself relax as they spun the around the room again. His grip tightened ever so slightly, and Iryana felt her head getting lighter.
He wasn’t so bad like this, uncomfortable and flushed. Just a man doing what he had to, to survive.
“Pyetar,” she whispered, leaning her head against his shoulder so her mouth was close to his ear. “Pyetar.”
“What?” he sighed.
“You don’t really want to hurt people, do you?”
Surely he would answer her—Iryana was convinced he would even though he didn’t trust her. They each knew enough of the other’s secrets to get them killed, which was better than trust.
He stiffened. “No, but some people deserve it. My brother’s new men—I don’t mind keeping them in line.”
“Thought so.” She sighed. “You’re still an ass though. And I will never forgive you for being mean to my grandmother.”
“Your grandmother is a fearsome woman; I think she can take it.”
Iryana chuckled. “You’re telling me.”
“I still don’t understand why you—” he shook his head. “Nevermind.”
Even in her state, she knew she didn’t want to answer the question, whatever it was. So she let it go.
Closing her eyes, trusting Pyetar to lead her, Iryana focused on the music. She didn’t hear music very often, and she wanted to appreciate every moment, but then an argument began drowning it out, and Iryana couldn’t help but overhear.
“But Major, shouldn’t we be patrolling extra to keep the dakii away from the duchess’s posts?” Iryana heard one of the younger soldiers asking. It took a moment for her to connect that they were talking about the increased dakii in the area again.
Iryana opened her eyes and shook her head slightly, trying to pay attention. Her head was so foggy.
Darish shrugged, a scowl squishing his face more than usual. “The settlements don’t care about our safety out here. They can take care of themselves for once.”
She was making it harder for Pyetar to spin her around, trying to focus on the conversation.
