She hated her father, hated how he had ruined her life alongside his. But he had been the only one who could truly stand her.
Iryana forced herself back to her feet, not bothering to fight the torrent of her father’s words, letting them wash right over her instead. Sink into her.
She picked the torch back up and started walking the rows again.
Two days later, Iryana could still feel the heat against her skin. She felt raw, her emotions numb inside her, but she had done it. Watching the field turn to ash washer only comfort. That, and the hope that she had finally pushed things toward her family’s favor. If only she could burn every last one of the Beast’s Poppies off the face of the planet.
Iryana took a large sip of her vodka, perusing the hall from the bench closest to the door. Evening was upon them, light no longer streaming through the windows to remind everyone they were being watched. The edges of the room, far from the lights dangling from the ceiling, were bundles of shadow. Some members of the fort were flocking to those corners while the center of the room filled with boisterous drinking.
“They’re tenser than usual,” Vaneshta whispered, then her thin eyes narrowed even further and her hand fisted her cup tightly. “Be glad you’re off tomorrow. I am tired of getting pushed around.”
Iryana nodded absently, hiding her frustration. What had she expected? For the new soldiers to bleed out of the fort the moment the burned field was found? There was time. That some soldiers were tense meant they knew, were biding their time. Or at least so she hoped.
“I always used to think this place, deep down, was noble. A place where the vicious had to protect the weak. But lately…” Vaneshta’s voice trailed off. Iryana didn’t comment.
She’d gone on a couple of missions since the fights, but mostly her team was training. And that meant being around Pyetar. Watching his muscles moving as he sparred, as he ran them through drills in just his sweat-dampened shirt. Iryana smoothed her hands over her thighs, forcing herself to think of something else.
“You’ve been out of it since your forging.” The words were directed at Iryana, but Vaneshta was watching a couple of muscled men trying to convince the others to start a dance.
“Just tired.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. She definitely wasn’t sleeping well, but she knew it wasn’t what Vaneshta meant.
Vaneshta eyed her, brow raised, but Iryana pretended not to notice, tipping the rest of her drink back.
Standing to refill her cup, Iryana wiped her chin and saw Pyetar slip into the room. His eyes caught on her briefly before he turned away and headed toward a now unoccupied table across the room.
Iryana slowly released the tension in her body, trying not to look his way. She wished he could just act like she didn’t exist instead of seeming to seek her out anytime he entered a space. It didn’t even seem intentional, but she could feel those eyes on her, burning into her skin.
She lost the battle, her eyes flicking to Pyetar. His whole body seemed tight, with a scowl even angrier than usual on his face. He kept looking toward the door, waiting.
Iryana sat back down slowly, wondering what he was waiting for.
It took only a few moments to find her answer. The doors burst open, and Karvek marched inside, a dark cloak partially covering his armor. The other soldiers followed him, but she didn’t even spare them a glance.
Karvek’s face had lost its tension and agitation of the last couple of days. He almost looked relaxed, and there was a sick feeling in her stomach because of it.
After leaning down to share a few words with Darish, Karvek started walking right toward her. Iryana noted her expression and made sure it was mild. Inside, she felt like running. Did he know? But how would he have figured it out?
“Welcome back, General,” she said as he reached the table, attempting a relaxed smile.
“I am glad you joined us when you did, Iryana Kleesolda.” Karvek leaned over the table, arm resting on the worn surface. “Your family is becoming a problem.”
Ice. Her body was ice.
“The Kleesolds?” She barely kept the words from becoming a cry.
“You’re not truly a Kleesold anymore though; you’re one of mine.” Karvek gripped her chin, the touch deceptively light. “Right?”
She nodded quickly. “They never appreciated me the way you do.” The words were stones in her throat, but she forced them out. “I’m where I belong.”
His pale eyes bore into hers, assessing. “Good,” he finally said.
When he was gone, having retreated to his rooms, Iryana realized her hands were shaking. Slipping them under the table, she remembered Vaneshta sitting beside her.
Vaneshta was watching her with a worried look but then turned back to her cup, sighing. “I’m getting another drink.”
She glanced over at Pyetar. He was the one who had visited Dovaki post in the past, so did he know what had happened? Had he been the one to talk to them?
Once Vaneshta’s back was turned, Iryana got up and headed out of the hall as quickly as she dared. What had her family done? What hadKarvekdone? The timing made no sense.
