“Just be careful. Karvek will blame me if you don’t come back.”
“Of course,” she answered quickly, something twisting in her gut.
But what if she didn’t return to the 18th? Would she need to after her family had the location of the well? There was still the war Karvek was planning to keep an eye on, maybe avoid. But she couldn’t say for sure. It might be the last time she would see him, and that was a confusing feeling. She would regret what Karvek would do to Pyetar if she didn’t return, but her family came first.
There was a tightness to Pyetar’s face that suggested he knew she might not come back, but he was trusting her enough to let her leave. Did he really have that much trust in her? Guilt weighed heavily on her.
They stood there awkwardly, looking around the temple courtyard.
It was Iryana who broke the silence. “I am going to pack up and get going to take advantage of my head start.”
“Alright.”
The tension was returning to his shoulders.
She took a few steps toward the small room she had slept in her first night, but looked back at him. Would she see him again after leaving the temple?
He watched her back, and it almost seemed like he was wondering the same thing.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Iryana climbed the last few yards across the cliffs, her limbs full of trapped energy. When her feet finally hit reliable ground, her head tipped back to glare at the sun. Climbing into the post had taken far longer than usual; she was falling out of practice. She was covered in too much sweat with how sticky the air already was.
With a quick check to make sure the map to the metal well was still safely tucked into her bag, Iryana headed toward the village. It felt strange to be back, the path not as worn as usual, but the same trees dotted the way as always, and the flowers were in full bloom.
She was tempted to stop and see if her cottage was the same, but she didn’t have time.
When she crossed the river bridge, Iryana headed toward the main house, fingers sliding the fabric of her skirt against her thumbs. She kept her head down, avoiding eye contact. She hadn’t seen a Kleesold yet, but her family was probably on duty or doing tasks at the house. If she were lucky, she could slip in a side door to find her sister’s workshop before anyone else noticed her.
The closer she got, the more her hands clenched and her breathing quickened. She hadn’t realized how comfortable she’d grown at Myura River until she returned to the post and suddenly she was an outsider again.
Finally looking up, Iryana faced the courtyard gate. Bunches of upside-down water irises were hanging from the arched top, their once-purple petals dripping black. Iryana sucked in a breath, staring, begging them to be a figment of her imagination.
She turned and saw that black-dyed bouquets hung from more gates and doorways throughout the village. In her focus, she had somehow missed them on her walk through.
Someone had died. And with so many flowers, it had to be someone important.
No. No, no.Dread curled inside her. She refused to guess at who it could have been; she needed toknow. Now.
She charged into the empty courtyard as if possessed, finally able to hear people from inside the hall. Urgently, Iryana snuck past the windows and slipped in the side door. The weight of the surrounding house pressed in tightly, but the fear-strangled hope in her chest was enough to force her onward.
About to slip into the hall where Hadima’s workshop lived, the sound of her own name made Iryana spin toward the kitchen.
Hadima stood there in the doorway, bordered by the cluttered walls of the clan’s home. She stared at Iryana, arms burdened with a large, chipped pitcher.
An enormous crash of relief made Iryana stumble. Hadima was safe. It wasn’t Hadima they mourned. Her sister’s dress was wrinkled, and an apron hung loose around her waist as the knots drew perilously close to untying completely. But she was whole.
“You’re back?” her sister asked with a frown, eyes examining her.
Iryana pressed down her discomfort and drew in a ragged breath. “I’ve done it.”
Hadima’s eyes widened. “You’ve found a temple? You’re forged?”
Iryana flinched at how loudly Hadima spoke, afraid someone might overhear.
“Yes, and I have a map. The Keeper said that as long as—” Iryana cut off as Hadima hoisted the pitcher onto her hip and grabbed Iryana’s hand.
“Things can be how they were meant to be now,” Hadima mumbled, tugging on Iryana. “We have to hurry and tell the others. I thought you wouldn’t make it.”
