There was something magnetic about watching her family interact. A strange mix of longing and nausea filled her.
But she couldn’t just stand around; it could be hours before the courtyard cleared, and the longer she stood in the shadows, the higher the chance someone would find her. She shuddered at the thought of having to explain what she was doing. Why she was hiding.
You are not a child,she reminded herself.
Taking a deep breath, Iryana stepped out of the shadows and into the cool air that still held the remnants of winter’s chill. She stared at the courtyard gate unwaveringly and marched toward it, intent in her steps as if she had somewhere very important to be.
Her cousins still sparred, she could hear the thuds and whacks of the staves echoing, their feet sliding over the dirt, but it felt like their eyes were still on her. Watching her every move, questioning her expression, wondering why she was there.
By the time she was about to pass their group, her hands were a sweaty mess where she still held her helmet, her jaw tight and spine stiff.
But she was almost there…
“Enough,” Uncle Dinhal ordered as the siblings abandoned their staves to grapple with each other, trying to toss the other into the dirt. Then his voice rose, calling over his shoulder, “Iryana, hold on.”
No.Her stomach clenched.
She paused, forcing herself to step up behind her uncle. To wait.
Kladara and Edvar didn’t acknowledge her at first, though the weight of Levek’s gaze fell solidly on her.
She avoided his eye contact, but tried to look as if she were unaware of it, looking around the courtyard as if absorbed in her own thoughts and not watching every move and expression of the others from the corners of her eyes. Her body was taut as threads on a loom.
“I basically won anyway,” Kladara snapped, tossing her braid over her shoulder as she straightened and brushed herself off.
Edvar rolled his eyes. “Oh please, everyone saw I was winning. If you can’t even beatme, you probably need to step up your training.”
Kladara looked ready to launch herself at her brother when Uncle Dinhal held up a hand to separate them. Levek just sighed and shook his head at them both.
Iryana was trying to look relaxed, but then her uncle turned to her.
“You spoke to the First?” When she nodded, he continued. “I have your schedule then. I’ll get it for you in a moment.”
She nodded again and tried to distract herself from her cousin’s questioning looks—glanced down at her helmet and rubbed her thumb against the side as if there was a smudge. She focused on one even breath after another.
Iryana had endless memories of her closest cousins bickering. They usually started when Kladara would snap at something stupid, like losing a game, or Edvar being overly moody—which was often—or Tonhald being too bossy, or Levek trying to rush her. Edvar was usually the one who escalated the fight, quick to take offense. Tonhald would try to break them up but would shut down and storm off whenever Kladara yelled at him. Levek usually stayed out of it, but he could be cuttingly critical when he felt obligated to step in.
She never thought she’d miss their fighting.
Hadima, Iryana’s older sister, was usually the peacemaker. Swooping in with a distracting joke or well-placed compliment. Thankfully for Iryana, she wasn’t there that afternoon.
“I was winning. Right, Iryana?” Kladara said, staring with sharp focus at Iryana and forcing her to look up.
Kladara’s gaze was cutting, intense. It always was. She’d never just let Iryana be, always had to poke her sore spots as if curious to see what she’d do.
Iryana looked at them, gaze flicking between Kladara and Edvar, both looking at her expectantly now. No matter what she said, one or both of them would be upset.
“I, uh,” she started, trying not to shrink. “I don’t know.”
Kladara scoffed and looked away, disappointment clear on her face. It was like a blow to the gut.
At least they returned to fighting between themselves, though Uncle Dinhal cut them off with various compliments and critiques from their bout. Ignoring the nonsense as he usually did.
It had been years since Iryana had been around them enough to pick up on such things, but watching them bicker again was almost like stepping back in time. There was a bit more tension between them than she was used to, though.
Then a young girl stepped out from beside Levek, and Iryana sucked in sharply.
The girl was closer to a woman now than Iryana remembered, watching their uncle closely, face flushed and hazel eyes wide from exertion. Brown hair fell in two long braids down her back, the ends golden from the sun, and messy like she’d braided them in a rush instead of letting their older sister help her. Her headscarf even hung down her back, her ears red with cold. Training leathers wrapped around her small, thirteen-year-old frame.
