To escape and rescue them. To make up for her mistakes.
She didn’t pause until she was safely across the river before she gave in to the need to look back.
Heart shredded, face damp with tears she kept trying to wipe away, Iryana stared at the walls of the fort. They held her family. Her friends. Pyetar.
She had known when she looked upon those walls for the first time that she would end up failing her family. She had never imagined just how thoroughly. How was she going to save them? Hot tears poured down her cheeks, and Iryana pressed a fist to her mouth to muffle her wail. It felt hopeless, like they were gone forever.
Lidishta had bought her the chance to escape, but what could she even do?
She stumbled into the forest.
Her sister. She would find her sister.
There were so many dakii in the forest, wild and snarling, but they seemed intent on reaching the fort, and it wasn’t hard to sneak past them.
The reaching pine needles curled over Iryana as she ran past, like stretching finger bones. The sun was high in the sky, but it felt like the short puddles of shadow were growing, like they would swallow her up.
Everything was pressing in, closing in around her.
They were all captured. Captured or dead.
Her body was bruised, her armor needed repairing, and she knew she was bleeding in a few places. She felt disconnected from her body though; all of her focus was on making it to her sister, grandmother and the other brigade leaders.
They would know what to do; they had to.
The scouts stared as Iryana ran past, but didn’t dare leave their post. Iryana stumbled past them, whipping through the trees. The camp was tucked against an overhanging cliff, and she had to slip between the rocks to burst into the clearing where everyone was waiting.
Iryana halted.
Tents of browns and tans had been erected against the tall rock wall behind them. Reserve soldiers, cooks, healers, and others milled around waiting to be useful. It was a swirl of muted colors in every direction. Then the crowd noticed Iryana, standing there with her dirt and blood-streaked clothes, eyes wide and haunted. Their heads spun to her, and their faces slowly fell.
Oh, gods, how would she tell them?
Iryana looked through the growing crowd, but their faces blurred together. She sucked in a shuddered breath as her vision darkened. She didn’t know what to do, what to say.
Then she saw Hadima rushing through the blur of darkening colors. She carried two baskets of wraps and ointments with a team of others trailing behind her, likely more healers. When Hadima saw Iryana, she handed the larger basket to the others and sent them away.
Hadima rushed toward her. Iryana could only wait, not able to take another step.
Warm arms wrapped around her, and Iryana wanted to curl up against her sister like she had as a little girl and cry. Let Hadima push her hair back and tell her that everything was fine in that bossy way of hers. The way Iryana had seen her comforting Misha.
“Shh,” Hadima whispered. “We can’t talk out here.”
Iryana was brought to a large tent, layers of fabrics and tarps stretched and draped over it. Anything to muffle the sound.
She felt wooden as she was pulled into the stifling heat inside. It was already set up with tables, benches, and rugs covering the ground. Her grandmother was leaning over the table, arguing with Nenad, Jesha, and a couple of others that Iryana didn’t recognize.
“You’re shaking,” Hadima said. “You need to sit down before you collapse.”
But there wasn’t time for that.
“We’ve lost,” Iryana blurted, the rest of what happened spilling out of her mouth like sick.
Nenad wrapped his arms around Jesha, pulling her close to whisper in her ear. It took Vesima a moment to gather herself, but she had led the Kleesolds through fifteen years of surviving the dakii. She was not a woman who gave in easily.
“Sit, everyone,” the First demanded, cutting off the others in their panicked rambles.
They gathered around the table, though Iryana sat at a smaller side table with Hadima, who had been given permission to treat Iryana while they talked.
