Iryana familiarized herself with everything and transferred the contents to her own pack. It was all things that were easy enough to get now that the Kleesolds wouldn’t miss them.
“I should probably get back.” Iryana looked up at the moon. Too much time had passed, and they were both hours from home.
“Yeah.” Hadima shifted nervously. “Meet here in about two weeks? On the full moon? I’ll send a message.”
Time was passing far too quickly.
Iryana nodded, and they slung their things back onto their shoulders. She didn’t know how to say goodbye, didn’t want to, so she just mumbled something about seeing her later and beelined away from the linden tree.
She would try to make better time heading back.
“Iryana?”
Her sister’s words stopped Iryana in her tracks, and she turned back, only having made it a few paces. Hadima looked so small standing next to the great trunk of the tree, leather guardian armor out of place over the intricately embroidered hem of their mother’s old shirt.
“Please be careful.”
Her throat tightened. Iryana inclined her head toward her sister and then hurried into the forest, not letting herself look back.
The meeting—the whole arrangement—was starting to blur the careful lines Iryana had drawn between herself and her family. Between the dakii, the brigade, and her own abilities to ruin things, there were too many paths that ended in disaster.
Iryana alternated between running and walking, setting a grueling pace as she headed back toward the fort. She kept the Yuresh River to her right until it met the Myura, both still high with meltwater, then followed that upstream. It wasn’tthe fastest path, but given she wasn’t as familiar with the forest this far out, it was better than getting lost. She only had to backtrack and find an alternative path around scouting beasts a few times.
When she finally made it back to the bank across from the fort, the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon. Morning mist rose over the swollen river, dancing and leaping as if hoping to taste the first golden rays.
It took a few minutes to find the right tree, and then her body protested the whole climb up and the slow slide across the rope crossing back into the fort. The soft blue crawling up from behind the trees, taking over the night-black sky, urged her on faster.
When she reached the wall walk, Iryana walked slowly toward the soldier on guard, a woman staring out at the old city beyond the walls.
Iryana didn’t know her name, but it was the same guard that saw her the morning before. Iryana had left the fort early, lugging a basket of clothes on her back. When she had returned with the rising run, they saw the same basket full of clean, dripping clothes. The morning before that, she had gone fishing, bringing back a silver, orange-finned dace dangling from her hook.
The guards were used to her early morning trips by now, but this morning she had more than the guards to fool.
She had to join another mission at daybreak.
“What was it this morning?” the soldier asked with a smile, shaking her head at Iryana.
“Just some supplies for the infirmary, Sen.” Iryana patted her basket.
“You know, you don’t have to rip yourself out of bed early every morning to impress Captain Darish and Major Karvek.”
“No, but I bet it helps.” She tried out a grin.
The soldier chuckled as Iryana slipped past. The moment she was out of the soldier’s sight, Iryana hurried down the stairs into the fort.
Her body tensed each time she passed someone on her way back, but no one paid her any more attention than usual. Farmers and craftsmen were heading toward their fields and workshops, maids were gathering laundry, smoke from the cook’s chimneys was already drifting steadily into the pink-tinged sky.
Iryana headed around the back of the barracks to take one of the less-used gates. There was still an edge of shadow in the sky. She was finally starting to relax as she rounded the corner to the gate.
Then she collided with a large chest.
“Iryana?”
She tried jumping back, but her muddy boot slid on the cobbled street. Hands closed around her upper arms, pulling her back in close. She struggled to orient herself amidst the black leather and wool, the smell of woodsmoke.
Her head tipped back to find Pyetar staring down at her, his eyes still soft from sleep, as if not yet believing it was her he held.
He had never looked at her with such an unguarded expression. His jaw was relaxed, his lips parted. Slowly, his brows tugged together with a question in his eyes.
