Iryana stared at him. This was what they’d been at an impasse over before, she realized. They wanted Pyetar to take over his brother’s command.
“If you want us to support you and risk our soldiers to remove Karvek and those that won’t switch sides, we need to know that our new ally is someone we can trust and work with. We aren’t taking this big a risk without that.” Jesha’s voice was firm and passionate, Nenad nodding along beside her. “We know you; we’ve worked with you for years. We trust you can gain the respect of the entire brigade. It has to be you, or we aren’t taking part in this.”
That wasn’t something she’d expected, but hearing them lay out their condition, Iryana understood it. She watched Pyetar, the way he stiffened in his seat and his face tensed until he could only be described as horrified.
She reached for his arm under the table, but he didn’t even react to the touch of her hand.
“I have been a captain for a few months. I am not nearly experienced enough for the soldiers to listen to me, especially in the chaos that will surely follow a takeover. And I know nothing about leading or running a brigade.” He was panicking, his voice getting faster and faster.
But she’d seen him lead the soldiers, and he’d taken to it like a fish took to breathing water.
“Choose an experienced major,” Jesha pushed. “And we can help you learn what you need to. This isnon-negotiablefor us. We will be moving against a larger brigade and without the King Commander’s permission. This is a big risk for us.”
Pyetar opened his mouth, and Iryana knew without a doubt he was about to refuse.
“Can we have a minute to talk this over?” she asked quickly, looking urgently at Nenad and Jesha.
The majors acquiesced and left the room to give them privacy to talk. When Iryana turned back to Pyetar, he was still staring at the same spot across the table.
“Hey,” she whispered, turning in her chair and leaning forward to be more in his line of sight. “I know this is scary. I know you didn’t want this, that you don’t think you can do it. Trust me, I am in the exact same position, and I understand.”
Pyetar turned his face toward her, a pleading look in his eyes, as if begging her not to make him.
“It’s okay to be scared. It’s okay to feel unprepared. But Pyetar… this is the only way. And they’re right.”
She knew he wanted to leave, to put aside the soldier he’d been. Her heart ached for him.
“I’ve seen how the soldiers respect you; it’s not just out of fear.” She squeezed his arm. “I’ve seen you lead our team, our squad. I’ve seen you lead a bunch of random soldiers that just happened to be repairing spikes together. They fell under your command so naturally. Youcando this.”
“And,” she added, seeing the pain swimming in his eyes. “It doesn’t have to be forever. A few years until things stabilize and Jesha and Nenad trust whoever you want your replacement to be.”
“It’s not what I wanted.” His voice was hoarse.
“I know it’s not.”
“I’ll be trapped in the 18th after this. I won’t be able to just slip away.” He searched her eyes. “I won’t be able to defect like I’d planned. Help hold the duchess’s border instead.”
Her heart pounded so hard she nearly clutched her chest, just to make sure it didn’t rip through her ribs. Had he been considering coming to the Dovaki Post after everything? To… be withher? Would the First have even let him?
If he did this, took command after they overthrew Karvek… she would be tied to the Kleesolds, he would be tied to the 18th. That would be it. Their people would never accept their being together. Even if he stepped down in a few years, would her clan ever accept a retired general being with their heir? She couldn’t imagine it.
“You think I should do this?” he asked quietly.
She wanted to ask if he’d forgiven her, if he would really come to her post if she said no. But she couldn’t be that selfish.
“It’s the best path forward.”
He nodded gravely and took a slow, lingering breath. It felt like mourning to her.
“I will get the majors,” she offered weakly. And then she’d lay out their plans.
Iryana watched Pyetar across the table in the main room of his house. The dim lights played across his face, which had been so serious lately.
The last few days had been a flurry of preparations since they’d returned. It was already the sixth day of the Thatching Moon, her deadline looming closer. The weather was cool and dry, but soon the autumn rains would make things more difficult. It was already a time of year where there was more work than hands to go around. Root crops had to be harvested, game hunted before it hid away for hibernation, roofs to be repaired, walls insulated, firewood gathered… the list was endless. And they were also planning a coup.
She hadn’t brought up what Pyetar had said—how he had implied he wanted to join her when this was all over. Neither had he. The opportunity was gone. But she thought about it constantly.
Pyetar tapped his fingers against the worn wood table, chewing on his bottom lip.
