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 Karvekhave 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.
Chapter Twenty-Four
