Last time she heard that, she was fourteen years old, stuck on a training mission with her sister and cousins. One of the many attempts to help Iryana fit back in with the family during the few years she lived at home after her father died and before she moved out at sixteen. It was meant to be safe, living off the land in a nearby valley that was too rocky for farming but thought to be undiscovered by the dakii.
It flashed through her mind, scene after scene.The forest at dusk, gathering firewood with her cousin. Her cousin Marisha’s disgusted expression when she asked about Iryana’s scars, then pushing Iryana to answer. Pushing and pushing until Iryana shouted the truth. Her cousin’s horrified face. The beast leaping through the trees. Iryana drew her bow while her cousin ran, leaving her with the dakya. Abandoning her.
Iryana looked down and clutched her shoulder, where the new scars from that night still marred her flesh, joining those her father had left. Somehow Iryana had survived, but her cousin that had left her to die had not. The only death of their generation so far. All Iryana’s fault.
The family hadn’t supported her afterwards in her guilt and grief—they’d blamed her.
That was the last time she let one of the Kleesolds try to get close to her.
“Iryana,” Hadima pleaded softer, pulling Iryana back. “We can do this together.”
Iryana’s lungs tightened. If only that were the truth. “No. Please, Hadima, please don’t tell anyone.”
Hadima reared back. “What?”
“This isn’t an option. It wouldn’t work. If I thought there was any chance—”
“This is the best chance we have. Theonlyone.” Hadima clung to one of Iryana’s hands. “We have to try. Please, I know I’ve asked a lot of you over the years, butplease. I’ll ask nothing else of you if you do this.”
Gods, her heart was ripping. Why did Hadima have to do this to her? The pain of it was as physical as any blade running through her flesh could be. “I can’t. It won’t work.”
Hadima had to know that, and yet she pushed Iryana anyway. Pushed and pushed and pushed. Iryana couldn’t get close to her own family, how could she infiltrate a bunch of strangers? She couldn’t. She would fail.
“Do you resent us that much? I have tried to be a part of your life, tried to make amends, but you have made it very clear that you want nothing to do with us. But please. Think of Misha; she needs her family.” Hadima squeezed Iryana’s hand so hard the joints ached.
“I know she does!” Iryana pulled away and scrubbed her face with her hands. “I just can’t do it.”
Hadima was wrong; Iryana wanted nothing more than to be a bigger part of her family’s life, but she just didn’t know how to make Hadima understand.
“Try! Do something for this family for once and try,” Hadima cried, her words uncharacteristically cruel, as if she had already barreled past the end of her patience. Then her voice dropped low and soft, tormented and desperate. “I will never forgive you if you don’t.”
Iryana recoiled, but a wave of anger simmered up and drowned out the pain. It didn’t matter what she did.
“You wouldn’t forgive me either way,” Iryana snapped.
Her sister’s face dripped with disappointment, looking at Iryana like she just couldn’t understand what had gone so terribly wrong with her.
“You say that,” Hadima scoffed, “But you’ll never forgive me either.”
Iryana opened her mouth to argue, but Hadima held up a hand to silence her.
She watched as the anger drained out of Hadima, exhaustion tugging at her brows.
“I don’t know if I should stop hoping that you’ll ever come back. If I should expect you to disappear one night without a word. Like Mom did.” Hadima’s voice was small, pained.
“I won’t do that to you,” Iryana promised. She would at least say goodbye.
Hadima nodded slightly, like she wasn’t sure if she could believe it.
Iryana’s heart clenched. Her sister wanted her back. Thought she did, at least. But if Iryana returned, moved back in and sat through family dinners, and played games in the hall… it would be just like before. Iryana, unable to fit in, and Hadima desperately trying to force it. She would be a burden, a constant source of frustration. And when something happened again, like Marisha, they would cast her out for good.
“I can’t do it, Iri.” Hadima shuddered, leaning against the gate limply. “I can’t leave my home again, pack up my life. Worry about everyone every single day.I can’t do it.”
Iryana’s hands were shaking at the sound of her sister’s distress. Like the very foundation of her world was coming apart.
If she said no, she would lose Hadima. That was clear. The family would get disbanded, leaving Iryana adrift in the world.
If she said yes, she would inevitably fail the Kleesolds. Maybe they’d have to renounce her to protect the post. Maybe they’d tell the duchess to put her somewhere she couldn’t do any damage. Maybe it wouldn’t matter because the brigade would discover her and Iryana would be dead.
