Vaneshta raised a brow, holding out a strip of dark cloth.
Iryana stared at it as if the material would jump up and strangle her. But she needed to do this, needed to succeed, she reminded herself. And forced herself to step away from the others and approach her roommate. Her fingers hesitantly grasped the fabric.
“It’s a blindfold. Put it on,” Vaneshta ordered, crossing her arms.
She hesitated, looking at the others, but they seemed just as confused. Iryana had sparred hand to hand while blindfolded a few times—it was always a sloppy mess—but she doubted that was what Vaneshta had in mind. Unless this was a punishment and not a real exercise.
Iryana tied the blindfold around her head, not letting herself question it too much.
With the scratchy linen pressed against her cheeks and brow, the world was reduced to darkness. A few speckles of light waved between the fibers from the torchlights. Her breath instantly sounded louder, her heart thudding heavier in her chest. She clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to rip off the blindfold. She was all but defenseless, armed with nothing but the small dagger in her belt.
Movement shuffled around her as Vaneshta whispered to the others and directed them. Iryana just stood there, her whole body tense and aware.
“We are going to navigate you through the city, and you have to trust us enough to listen.” Vaneshta’s voice was hard, but there was a hint of hope in it.
Her gut sank further.Trust. Couldn’t they have asked her to fight a dakya bare-handed instead?
Iryana shook away her doubts. One step at a time. She could do it.
“Walk forward,” Vaneshta ordered, her voice coming from behind Iryana’s left shoulder.
Her boots shifted, her heel dragging as she reluctantly took a step. The ground was uneven beneath her feet, the muddy road covered with debris and moss and other wildlife growing through the cracks.
Every order she followed was like trudging through deep snow.
“Turn to the right and duck your head, then take a few steps forward.” Vabihn sounded close now, off to her side.
She turned and took a first hesitant step forward, slowly bending her knees and ducking her head. The air in front of her felt cooler, the space darker. Was he leading her into a building?
When she hesitated, Vabihn urged her on.
She exhaled through her teeth, but obeyed. The top of her head bumped against something, not enough to hurt, but enough to send adrenaline coursing through her body.
They led her around, and then outside that building, down street after street, through some sort of park or overgrown garden. Every footfall felt like a mistake, like she was on the edge of a precipice and they were about to throw her off.
Vaneshta was trying tofixher. Trying to make her fit in the way she wanted. It was just like when she was a teenager, living in the main house. Hadima hadordered her around, dragged her around the family, trying to force her to get used to it. And what had that gotten them? Marisha was dead.
Somehow, Vaneshta could sense that Iryana didn’t fit with them. And she would push and push Iryana until that changed, or she broke. Just like Hadima.
“Go to the right,” Shahn said, sounding bored.
“Wait,” Pepha stopped her. “You need to turn slightly more, and there’s a board on the floor you need to step over.”
Iryana’s hands balled into fists, frustration making her body feel unsteady. They needed to be more careful. More specific in their directions.
“Take a step up,” Mezhimar ordered.
She moved her foot forward until it hit something solid, then slowly raised it until she could slide her foot across the smooth surface, whatever it was. Her chest expanded as she shifted her weight, pulling herself up. Shuffling slowly, Iryana felt a ledge to her side. She wobbled, arms thrown out to keep her balance.
“Steady,” Pepha yelped quietly from somewhere up ahead. “Shuffle slowly forward, straight toward my voice.”
Gods, she was on a ledge of some kind, wasn’t she?
Her feet were glued in place, her heart pounding relentlessly. They didn’t care if she fell, wouldn’t care if she got hurt. Maybe that’s what they wanted: an excuse to kick her out. A failure to blame her for.
“Iryana, you need to move,” Vaneshta urged. “Trust us.”
But she didn’t. She didn’t trust them at all. She didn’t trust anyone.
