“No,” Iryana growled at herself. “Get a hold of yourself.”
He had left Hadima here to die. To be ripped apart by the dakii.
Iryana’s stomach heaved, threatening to upturn onto the bloody grass.
It took every ounce of her strength, ignoring the throbbing in her leg that was now starting to ache severely, to pull Hadima onto her back. She stumbled trying to stand the first time, but Iryana kept trying. The weight was too much for her leg. It didn’t matter.
Iryana looked up at the sky, at the rising moon, and took a shuddered breath. The dakii scouts would be out now. They had to get back to the post.
She pushed what she could of her shield around her sister, hopefully masking most of the scent of blood, and darted into the trees. Her sister would not die. She would not let Misha be alone.
Every time her leg threatened to buckle, she reminded herself how she had failed Hadima and took another step.
When her aching side made it too hard to breathe, she reminded herself that her cowardice might have killed her sister, and she forced down another breath.
Hadima’s head draped over Iryana’s right shoulder, her breath a faint reminder against Iryana’s neck that she was still alive. Iryana held onto that, focused on every slow exhale, unquestioningly aware that if it were to stop, Iryana wouldn’t have the strength to carry on.
Thankfully, Hadima’s breath never stopped.
The family must have been waiting for them. As soon as Iryana could see the main watchtower, someone started climbing down the ladder.
She had just made it to the base of the twisting path that led to the gate, unsure how she would make it up with Hadima, when Uncle Dinhal and Kladara were pulling Hadima off her back.
“What happened?” Kladara demanded, voice tight, at the same time their uncle barked, “Is it done?”
Iryana couldn’t answer, couldn’t get the words through her burning lungs. The moment the weight was off her, she fell to her knees. She tried to swallow to wet her dry throat.
“Help her,” Iryana croaked, barely audible, but they were already too far away to hear.
Uncle Dinhal had Hadima in his arms, carrying her up to the gate, Kladara at his side checking Hadima over, talking to her softly. They didn’t notice that Iryana wasn’t following, or perhaps they didn’t care. She’d rather they focused on her sister, anyway.
Iryana couldn’t feel her leg anymore, but everything else was on fire. Her heart hurt worst of all.
She considered collapsing right there, but she had to know if her sister recovered—had to know if she had killed her. So she crawled, her fingers scraping at the rocky earth, up the long switchback path that was steep and mostly grown over, but she made it to the gate, thankfully still open. She managed to pull herself back onto her feet.
Someone said something to her, whoever shut the gate behind her, but Iryana couldn’t make out the words. Uncle Dinhal almost had Hadima to the main house, and Iryana scrambled after them.
Her shoulder slammed into the door of the main house, supporting her weight as she struggled to open it.
The door opened from the other side, and Iryana slid into the house, landing on the floor with a groan. Then, hands were on her arms, pulling her up.
A face was in front of her. Shadowed eyes, pale hair, firm jaw. Worried eyes. Tonhald’s mouth was moving.
Iryana felt nothing, absolutely nothing. As she stared at him, his face growing increasingly panicked, the buzzing in her ears grew. Iryana blinked.
She was being pulled onto a bench in the main hall, her eyes still locked onto Tonhald’s. The chorus of whispers slowly rose to frantic voices.
“—is with her now, we need to give them some time.”
“What does this mean?”
“I’ve sent Dinhal back to get water.”
“—and we’ll be ready.”
“She will not like this.”
“I know!”
