“Actually, Sena, I think you’d beat them to a pulp for that, not make them do laps,” Pepha pointed out.
Iryana half expected Pyetar to storm in and do just that. Her eyes flickered to the door, but he was nowhere in sight. He was out on a mission, most likely; she hadn’t seen him since they got back.
“It’d teach them a lesson,” Vaneshta agreed with a vicious smile on her face.
“You’ll get your opportunity soon,” Vabihn chuckled.
Iryana raised her eye at that.
“Did you know our dear Vaneshta is alady?” Pepha cackled. “She’ll be promoted soon; everyone knows it.”
Vaneshta snorted, downing her drink, before shooting a glare around the table. “If you ever call me ‘lady,’ I will shove my foot up your ass.”
Iryana blinked. Vaneshta looked nothing like one of the ketsan. Unrefined, unpolished, and there was nothing noble about her drunken slouch. But the thought of Vaneshta dressed like one of the ketsan brought a smile to Iryana’s lips.
“Still, it’s good for her to know she’s with social superiors,” Pepha teased quietly. “What if we defeat the dakii and the ketsan take their old roles back, Iryana would look super stupid if she addressed a—”
“The dakii aren’t going anywhere,” Vaneshta interrupted. “And guardian families are ketsan, too. She’s practically a lady herself. She’s another ofyoursocial superiors.”
Pepha gasped at that, a worried glint in her eye, but Vabihn burst out laughing and Mezhimar cracked an actual smile. Pepha’s worry softened into fake horror.
Iryana realized she was still smiling. Their teasing, the jokes, it felt easy for the first time.
A young soldier walked past, his walk and smirk competing for cockiness. Mezhimar jerked forward as the man’s elbow slammed into his shoulder. Mezhimar’s jaw tightened, but he kept his eyes down and stayed silent.
Pepha’s eyes followed the random soldier who was laughing as he walked away, a scared look on her face.
Her own smile fell away too.
Iryana wasn’t really friends with Mezhimar, but she hated bullies. The desire to stand up for him lit a simmering rage in her gut, but she couldn’t risk acting on it. Her hand clenched tightly around her glass as she took a long gulp.
She had almost been having fun for a moment there, but the true nature of the surrounding soldiers of the 18th came crashing down.
She was tired of this place. Tired of these people.
“I had a few drinks,” Iryana pointed out, holding up her empty drink for Vabihn to see. “All good?”
“Mmm?” He rubbed his chin. “Almost.” Then he filled her cup back up, some of the pour ending up on the table.
Iryana was questioning whether her coins were worth this torture when a woman came up behind Vabihn, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She was beautiful, short and soft, with curling blond hair loosely pulled back and eyes that gleamed with joy.
Vabihn smiled, pulling the woman around to sit on his lap. “Where’s the wee one?” he asked her.
“With my sister.”
“Good.” He offered the woman that must be his wife his cup, a loving smile on her face.
Iryana blinked. She knew her teammate had been married, but somehow the interaction still surprised her.
“So,” Pepha squeaked, eyeing Iryana. “You met both the Horvol brothers before coming here, right? What is Sen Pyetar like with the guardians?”
“I bet they dread his visits,” Vabihn laughed.
Tipping the wooden cup back, Iryana took a few large gulps, a wave of numbness almost immediately rolling over her.
Iryana shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I don’t spend much time at the main house, but my family definitely hates him.” She hoped that would be enough, but they kept staring at her expectantly. “I’ve seen him rough my cousin up, heard of the threats he gave the rest of the family.”
Vaneshta seemed to consider that, expression too contemplative for her sobriety level. “He’s a bit rough, but he is reliable.”
