“I still can’t believe he’s the better option,” Grandmother Vesima mumbled quietly, eyeing Pyetar as he talked with Dinhal.
The question made her feel strange, knowing her worlds were overlapping. Her family, her grandmother in particular, knew a very different side of Pyetar than she did now. “Yeah. There’s a lot more to him than you think. He will lead the 18th after Karvek.”
Her grandmother squinted her eyes further, not trying to hide her scrutiny.
There was no love lost between the military and the guardians.
“Tonight is the full moon,” the First reminded her. “An auspicious night to celebrate our victory.”
It felt wrong to think that far ahead, so she just nodded awkwardly. “We should get moving.”
“You’re right.” Grandmother Vesima grabbed Iryana’s hand. “I am very proud of you, my granddaughter. And glad to have you as Third. We have many wounds to heal, especially among you and your sisters, once this is over. Don’t think I’ve forgotten.”
Iryana could only nod.
When they started heading toward the last meeting spot, Pyetar found his way to her side again.
Major Jesha was waiting with a small force exactly as planned, and the group split up to cross the river at different points quickly and efficiently. It worried her how smoothly things were going, but Iryana didn’t let herself question it.
The only bit of contention was the tension between the different groups, exchanging suspicious glances and avoiding walking next to each other, but a common goal united them. For now, at least.
Iryana marched with the largest group, careful to avoid the patrols, and when they reached the edge of the abandoned city outside the fort, they split again into groups of ten or twelve. They filtered through the buildings, staying out of sight from the wall, and meeting up with the others hidden inside.
Iryana climbed to the top of one townhouse, the rest of her group waiting down below. She looked out across the city and toward the wall that they’d have no hope of breaching if the gates stayed shut. The cold morning air seemed to claw at her armor and through the layers of her clothes as she waited.
Seeing a flash of blue, Iryana let out the breath she’d been holding.
Small scraps of azure fabric slipped over the sides of the wall across the entire length as all the soldiers that were behind Pyetar signaled their readiness.
So many.
There would still be soldiers on the wall that weren’t on their side, but they hopefully had a large enough majority to overwhelm them. To keep their cover from being blown as long as possible.
She let out a bird call, listening as it repeated around the city. All the teams were ready to move.
Iryana hurried back down the floors of the abandoned townhouse, ignoring the deep claw marks that littered the steps, and slid back into the alley.
“Ready?” Pyetar asked.
He looked like a general, his armor fine, every piece matching as if it’d come from one set. Leather-wrapped steel, a fur-edged wool cloak, and a determined expression that one couldn’t fake.
Swallowing, Iryana nodded and wished she wore as much armor. She at least had her training leathers on, which Karvek wouldn’t find unusual even this early. She’d even worn a pale pink, flowered headscarf over her braid. Something Karvek would know she’d never risk going beyond the walls in.
The soldiers with them followed as quietly as they could as Pyetar led them through the city.
Her ears were listening carefully for any sign of an alarm being raised, and she could tell Pyetar was doing the same as he moved beside her. Every step seemed too loud, every glimpse of the wall too long, but they drew closer and closer.
It was wild to think that within a few hours, it should all be over.
Karvek would be dead. Pyetar, the new general of the 18th. A concerted effort beginning to deal with the dakii. Or if they failed—
No, she wouldn’t think of it. It felt like something would go wrong if she did. Yet they reached the last few rows of buildings outside the gate uneventfully.
Iryana crouched in a secluded alcove and peeked out, looking around the corner and across the street. She could see other groups filtering in around them, filling the alleys and the side streets. Anticipation made her heart pound loudly in her chest.
Pyetar crouched down right beside her, legs almost pressed to hers.
“Iryana?” he called, her name soft on his lips.
