Iryana let out a shuddering breath.
Misha.
Her youngest sister had always looked more like Iryana than their older sister, other than their eyes. That seemed to have gotten even more pronounced. Where Hadima’s beauty was soft and classic, Misha’s was sharper. More delicate. Hadima and Misha had those same hazel eyes though, earthy green on the edgeswith a starburst of brown and gold in the middle. Those similarities seemed to tie them together, something that could never be taken from Iryana. All three sisters had the same wide eyes, arching brows, and full lips, though they were easy to tell apart. Hadima stood out with her softness, Iryana with her blue eyes, and Misha with her constant furrow of concentration.
How had she not seen her?
Why was she training with the guardians and not the younger cousins her own age?
Iryana froze, still as a deer.Hurry Dinhal, she begged as Misha glanced her way. That look was so casual. So dismissive.
Uncle Dinhal started working through a sequence with Levek for demonstration, movements slow and precise. Iryana considered how horrible it would be to just race out of there, damn the consequences.
Then a small girl, the fairest of all the Kleesolds with her near-white hair and pale blue eyes, shot into the courtyard. Her steps were light, and her face scrunched with focus. Nevedya, one of Iryana’s more distant cousins, was only… seven, she thought. Assuming she remembered properly.
The demonstration stopped, all the Kleesolds turning toward the interruption. Iryana took a cowardly step backwards.
“I want to watch, Gyen Dinhal,” Nevedya pleaded, bowing slightly.
She was bundled in a thick cloak with slits for her arms, and a fur cap over her flowered headscarf. The days weren’t yet warm enough to forgo a cloak, at least not without armor or significant exertion.
“Where does Gyena Emadya think you are?” Uncle Dinhal demanded, brows raised.
Nevedya shrugged, like she hadn’t a clue.
“Nevi,” he ordered, but his voice was kind.
The little girl sighed. “I said I had a stomachache and had to lie down.”
“Your studies are just as important as your martial training.”
Perhaps once it was, but times had changed.Iryana kept that thought to herself.
“All we get to do is run and step through forms over and over. It’s boring,” Nevedya whined. “Besides, how will knowing my numbers and Istrin history help me kill dakii and defend our people?”
Uncle Dinhal threw his head back with an exasperated sigh, and Iryana wondered how common this interruption was.
“Nevi, are you not satisfied with your training?”
“It just feels like I am nowhere near ready to fight the beasts.” Nevedya’s serious face twisted into a pout, her arms crossed. “And I am tired of being coddled.”
Edvar sighed, mumbling. “That’s because you’re seven. Don’t wish away the brief childhood you have left.”
Kladara shot him a look. “It takes time, but you’re building up the muscles and instincts you will need one day.”
“The best thing you can do,” Uncle Dinhal told her gruffly, “is to work hard at your studies and training. Your first watch will come far sooner than any of us would like.”
Iryana shuddered at the thought of the little girl out with the beasts, trying to fight one off. Nevedya was too young to have ever been beyond their walls, to know what it had been like to retreat through the ruins of Istri in a desperate hope for salvation.
She needed to understand what was out there. The danger.
“A dakya tore my father’s leg off,” Iryana muttered, her voice louder than she intended based on the eyes that cut to her.
“Iryana!” Kladara hissed. “No need to traumatize the child.”
Iryana’s eyes flew wide. “Sorry, I—sorry.”
Edvar and Levek exchanged a look, no doubt about her.
