Iryana just nodded.
“I had hoped to celebrate with you.”
Iryana smiled weakly. “Have a drink for me.”
Vaneshta nodded, looking again at Iryana’s family. Tension bit at the air.
Her gaze returned to Iryana. “I will see you later.” Then she turned and walked away before Iryana could say she wasn’t sure if that were true.
The adrenaline had abandoned her completely, and everything ached. Hadima had cried and thrown herself at Iryana when she’d called for her in the streets outside Myura River and then fussed over her injuries. They were both covered in blood now.
She’d told her sister she’d have to wait until they got to the camp and saw how the others fared, but that hadn’t stopped her.
The Kleesolds were quiet on the hike back, their relief tempered by worry for the First of their clan and the others.
She was about ready to collapse by the time they made it to the camp, but she still had enough energy to panic. Eyeing the bloody cliff and ripped tents, Iryana thought the worst at first. But then, people emerged from the rocks.
Hadima rushed forward, demanding someone take her to the injured, while the Kleesolds at her back organized a new perimeter and started taking stock of the situation. They were guardians, protectors. It was what they did.
Iryana went straight to where her grandmother sat on a stool among the wreckage.
Vesima Kleesolda, First of the Kleesold Guardian clan, had fought. That was undeniable from the blood splattered dress and claw marks on her arm.
Iryana fell to her knees at her grandmother’s feet. As much from exhaustion as reverence.
“It’s done,” she breathed. “Karvek is dead. Pyetar holds the 18th.”
Relief flashed over the First’s face.
“I am so proud of you,” the First said. “Proud to be First of such a clan. Such a family.”
Iryana smiled, hiding a wince at the pain lancing through her body. “I am proud to be your granddaughter. You are a warrior still.”
The First nodded at her, face still the hard mask of a guardian who had fought for her life. But then she softened, becoming just her grandmother, and reached for Iryana’s neck. Wiping away the blood to reveal her new tattoos and the bruises forming there.
“You’ve done the impossible.”
“I don’t know how,” she admitted. “But I had to. I never knew I had something like that in me.”
“I’ve known,” her grandmother assured her. “Since you were a little girl.”
Iryana cried, laying her head on her grandmother’s lap. She only let herself linger for a few minutes, letting the suffocating stream of emotions wash over her.
Gentle but firm hands pushed her hair back. Wiped away her tears. Her grandmother’s face was stern and hard. The First once more.
“We don’t have time to fall apart now, Third,” she ordered. “We must rally the clan, get them home. Start securing the valley and make sure these brigades hold true to their word.”
Iryana nodded, rubbing at her cheeks.
“What do you need me to do?”
The First sent Iryana back to Myura River.
One day later, Iryana walked into the study that had once belonged to Karvek. It still smelled like him, his chipped cup sitting on the edge of the large table. A few drops of golden liquid still inside.
“Iryana.” Pyetar stood abruptly from where he sat behind the desk.
He wore clean clothes and a new set of armor. Her stomach tightened. Pyetar wouldn’t be safe in the fort until he finished rooting out all the soldiers who still wished him dead.
