She looked just like she did drunk. Iryana shook her head at the thought of why Vaneshta had developed that skill.
It was time to find Pyetar.
After leaving Lidishta on the small wooden platform up in the canopy, it didn’t take Iryana long to meet up with Pyetar.
“Let’s try to make good ground before we have to camp,” was all he said. It was almost the moonless night, almost the end of the Harvest Moon, and the night would be particularly dark.
She’d fallen in beside him, familiar with the way he moved through the trees by now. They were in a particularly beautiful valley; the leaves starting to change color at the ends of branches. Soon the whole forest would look washed in the colors of sunset.
Pyetar slowed, pulling out one of the charts Vaneshta had given them.
The good thing about intentionally disrupting the dakii’s paths was that one could mostly predict how they would change. While Major Darish thought they needed a week to watch and re-chart them out, Vaneshta already knew what their movements would look like—at least to an extent—and she’d drawn up the charts for them already.
“She really could not have planned this better,” Pyetar mumbled.
Iryana smiled. “Vaneshta certainly earned her sergeant belt.”
Pyetar nodded, but then fell silent again. He’d been that way—absorbed in his thoughts—since they’d started planning.
Needing something to do to distract herself from the awkwardness between her and Pyetar, Iryana practiced with her forgings. She summoned her bow, now consistently able to form it already strung, and an arrow, nocking it as smoothly as she could and letting it fly.
Just a little longer, she pleaded, body straining as it flew and flew and—disappeared. Better than the last time at least, but she was far from a long-distance shooter.
Pyetar glanced at her, and she tried to ignore the attention, letting the magic of her forgings return to her. She took a steadying breath and prepared to try again. If she could get as fast as Mezhimar, she’d be happy.
Iryana sprung into action, her hands moving as if she already held her bow and arrow, sinking into that muscle memory. As her hands moved, she formed her bow and an arrow.
“Ow!” she gasped as the arrow didn’t nock right, the end smacking her in the face.
“You’ll get it eventually,” Pyetar said, choking on a laugh.
Iryana sighed. “Given that we’re planning to take Myura River by force, it would be nice if I could get itnow.”
She’d worked through how long everything would take, but there was no wiggle room in the schedule if they were going to make it in time. And there was always the chance that winter came early. Sometimes they’d have all of autumn, both the Thatching and Falling Moons. Sometimes only the one.
When winter settled into that part of Istri, it would be sudden. One morning she’d wake up and see thick frost on the ground that wouldn’t melt even during the sunniest parts of the day. And then the next thing she knew, it would start snowing and snowing until everything was white. The rivers would freeze over, all except for a small current at the bottom.
Without fire-forged gear and armor for all the soldiers, they couldn’t march an army to Myura River in winter.
“So,” Pyetar said softly. “What is your plan for after? If we succeed and put someone else in charge of the 18th?”
“Oh.” She winced slightly.
“You’re belted.” He looked at her waist, at the yellow-brown belt there. “You will always have a home with the 18th.”
She smiled, realizing how comfortable she’d grown at Myura River despite everything.
“The 18th has felt more like home than anywhere else in a very long time.”
“So, are you going to stay then?” He watched her reaction carefully.
“No,” she answered softly. “I am going to be moving into the family’s main house, actually. If all this goes according to plan.”
He was quiet for a while before asking, “You’re ready for that?”
She shrugged. “I have to be. I, uh—I’m Third of the Kleesold clan now.” The only one she’d told so far had been Vaneshta. “I mean, technically there is a ceremony, but we didn’t have time for that yet,” she continued awkwardly. “But it was the best way to get the duchess off my clan’s back. To give us the time we need.”
“Heir to a guardian clan,” he mumbled. “I can see it, actually.”
