She built up a fire every morning that would last the entire day, keeping the house warm. All her food was baked inside. She could lay the boards across the top to sleep on for chilly nights, and could put the large cast iron tub inside it to bathe in warmed water.
She had two milk cows and two calves of the smaller Istrin breed that originated in the hills and valleys on the mountains. They were small and hardy, ableto handle the cold winters, and while the rest of the cows were white with a few dark spots across them, one calf was black. She also kept chickens for their light brown eggs and meat: a brood of colorful hens ranging from speckled yellow to white to red to black, and one reddish-brown feisty rooster.
It took her hours every day to milk her cows, collect eggs, and clean up their stalls, but at least they could soon spend time outside.
Living as isolated as she did meant she had a lot of chores. Usually, that was a good thing. It settled her. But today, she could not stand still. Iryana paced along the path she had kept bare beside the potatoes. She had too much energy.
The walls around her felt smaller than usual.
It reminded her of how cramped the cottage had felt when she’d lived there with her mother, father, and little sister. Her father hadn’t been able to climb atop the stove with his injury, so they pulled the bed around to lay right in front of it at night. And in the warmer months, he’d slept alone in the bedroom. Iryana, her mother, and her sister spread out along the benches to sleep. Hadima never stayed the night the few times she visited.
Iryana looked at the large stove, remembering how she used to climb on top of it with her little sister to sleep. Misha had always been small, and they would snuggle up for warmth, even in the summer months when they could forgo most of their layers.
A pang in her chest sent Iryana looking for another task to complete.
When she finally let herself collapse into her bed, listening to the cows snorting and moving around below her, the occasional chicken clucking at the others, Iryana found herself looking at the coin again.
It was still in her fingers when she fell asleep.
Iryana woke early the next morning. It was nearly dawn, the valley breeze just beginning to stir, and the last remnants of the night’s fog resting at the base of the valley.
Eyes burning and muscles sluggish from the lack of sleep, Iryana bundled up and headed toward the main house, having no trouble slipping inside. The sun hadn’t risen yet, and the only sounds in the house came from the kitchen. Someone was probably tending the stove and checking the porridge for breakfast.
Hadima’s study was empty, and Iryana pulled the plants she had gathered out of her bag and carefully laid them on the biggest worktable. Hadima would be sure to see them next to another crate of supplies. Hopefully, it would be enough.
Having completed her mission, Iryana found her fingers slipping back into her pocket for the coin. Its presence made her anxious.
She needed to put it somewhere it would stop tempting her.
Head down, Iryana left. She hurried through the courtyard and headed toward the river. The path was cast in shadows; the clouds bore the slightest hint of fire as the sun thought about rising. The sound of the stream was a balm as she neared. It was always quick to unfreeze when the spring air warmed. The water would carry the military coin far away.
“What is that?”
Iryana’s head snapped up, her fingers tightening around the coin. Her gut sank.
Hadima dropped the bucket she was carrying, water sloshing over the sides, and closed the distance between them in three quick steps. Her hand darted out and ripped the coin from Iryana’s grasp.
“Give that back!” Iryana tried to reach for it, but Hadima slipped past her.
“Do you know what this is?” Hadima mumbled, holding the coin up to her face. “I can’t believe you.”
“You can’t show that to anyone!” Iryana begged, but Hadima took off toward the main house.
Panic clamped around Iryana’s throat. Every concern dissipated but the need to stop her sister.
Chapter Seven
“Hadima, stop.” Iryana grabbed her sister’s shoulder and pulled her aside right before the gate, jaw clenched and eyes wide.
“What?” Hadima snapped, a tortured look on her face. “This is a military coin. From the 18th Brigade! I don’t know how you got this, but this is our ticket in.”
“It’s not,” she begged.
Hadima’s brow pulled up, her face pleading. “We can do this. Our family will support you and we will do whatever we can to help you get to their metal well.”
Iryana recoiled sharply, the words effective as a slap across her cheek.
Our family will support you.
