“No, I can’t. I can’t be the Third. That’s a joke.” After everything she had done, everything they had done…
The First watched Iryana, not reacting to her outburst.
“I know you wanted more time, that you don’t feel ready,” the First said calmly, talking directly to Iryana. “But the fact that you did this—infiltrated the 18th, spent months with those corrupt thugs—shows that you can do this. That you’re ready.”
Iryana couldn’t stop herself from shaking her head.No, her grandmother was wrong.
“We need a Third,” Vesima said calmly.
“Figure something else out,” Iryana demanded, voice shrill. “I won’t. I can’t. And you wouldn’t be suggesting me as Third if you had a single other option.”
Vaguely, she was aware that a few voices were trying to argue with her, but her head was pounding and she ignored them.
She stumbled to her feet, everything spinning. She couldn’t stay. “I will send word if I learn anything from the 18th that can help.” Iryana rushed for the door.
“You’re going back?” Hadima cried out with a gasp as she chased Iryana into the courtyard.
The sky was angry; dark, roiling clouds loomed overhead. She could feel the tension in the air from the storm about to break.
“I can’t stay here; I can’t help with this,” she shouted back to her sister, voice rising into a cry. “I would ruin everything!”
Then Iryana broke out into a run, needing to put as much distance between herself and the rest of her family as she could. Hadima, thankfully, didn’t follow.
Her family didn’t know how to act around her. When she’d still lived there, they’d talk around her as if she weren’t even there. Go off on their own and not invite her. It wasn’t intentional; she was just sootherthat they didn’t think of her. And when Hadima forced it, Iryana always ruined things. Sometimes she tried too hard and grew frustrated at every bit of distance between them. Grew so angry that they avoided her. And when she tried to be calm, to just be accepting of it and not try as hard, it was like she slipped into the shadows.
When she was around them, she second guessed everything she did. Worried about how she’d upset them next, how she’d push them further away. And anytime they wanted to rely on her, the times she’d let them down, haunted her. In her mind, she couldn’t escape those moments when everyone had realized Marisha was dead. When the clan had blamed her in anger.
In the years she lived with them before saying her guardian oaths, Iryana realized she would never truly be a part of her family again.
She couldn’t live like that, let alone take responsibility for the entire clan.
Lightning flashed overhead, a deep roar of thunder rumbled through the valley, and the sky opened up. Iryana didn’t bother pulling the hood of her oiled cloak over her head. She just let the rain soak her through. Let it hide her tears.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
When Iryana finally made it back to the fork in the river where she had agreed to meet Pyetar, she was days early. She had run like she was being chased, not stopping to stay the night in her cottage. It had rained almost the entire time.
Iryana threw her head back and sucked in a few rasping breaths. Her legs were nearly shaking, and even though the rain had stopped, all her clothes and bags were drenched. Still, she wished she could keep running. It was so hard to stay still.
Throwing her eyes to the stars, Iryana begged for clarity. Had she found the well for nothing? Had she been forged for nothing? Iryana tossed her pack down with a thud.
She had known her grandmother would use this to push her to come back, had suspected that when she was young, the First had been training her to be Third. Iryana had been given extra work and assignments, given special lessons with the First directly, or brought to watch meetings. The others sometimes were, too, but none as often as Iryana. But that was a long time ago.
Despite her frustration and fears, she was now a soldier of the 18th. There were other ways she could help on her own. There was still a little time for her family to figure things out. Levek was eighteen, just old enough to be forged too. If they could get him to the metal temple, they’d have a better option for Third. They’d just have to get him there—by traveling a week in beast-infested woods.
Her head fell into her hands. How were they supposed to manage that? They didn’t have the charts of the dakii paths like the brigade did.
“Iryana?” A low voice came from a few paces away, and Iryana spun into action, forming her bow and nocking an arrow.
She realized whose voice it was just as she stared down the arrow at him. Laughter caught in her throat. It wasn’t the first time she’d aimed at him, though this time she felt far less desire to let her arrow fly.
“Pyetar.” She stared, chest heaving. “You’re early.”
Brow wrinkled, he nodded. “As early as you. I thought you needed another—”
“No.” Iryana cut him off, finally remembering to lower her bow. “Not anymore.”
He was watching her too closely, and she didn’t like it. “What happened?”
