Iryana waited, afraid to move.Was he suspicious? Had he seen her sneak out last night?She was so focused on him, her whole body seemed to buzz. Pyetar seemed to stare right through her, displeasure growing on his face. He swallowed, jaw tightening. She felt like a deer, her blue eyes wide as she stared at him.
With a jerk, he ripped his hands off her arms, but she was still a hand’s distance from his chest, and he didn’t step back. His posture morphed from relaxed to tense and looming. It became impossible to ignore how he towered over her, tall enough that she could fit beneath his chin. Armor formed to his body; a dark woolen cape draped over his shoulders. A black cap covered most of his short, light-brown hair.
She shivered from the heat radiating off him, and she realized how cold her body was.
“You look tired.” His voice was rough, jolting her from whatever spell he’d put her under.
She tried to parse his expression, but he always looked at her suspiciously.Was that an accusation? Did he know?
“So do you,” she said. Because what better defense than a counter-offense?
He grunted and took a quick step back. “The captain wants to leave soon—get as much distance in as we can before the dakii are fully awake.”
She was about to respond when his pale eyes flashed wide and he adjusted his cape, the dark fabric covering most of his right side. But it wasn’t fast enough for Iryana to miss the pouch tied to his belt, the glimpse of folded paper sticking out of it. Her gaze darted back up to Pyetar’s face as if she hadn’t noticed.
She tried to keep her body from reacting. He could have been hiding letters; perhaps he was embarrassed by something as benign as a scandalous love note. But why hide it from her then?
A memory surfaced unbidden. She was eleven, with hair in two long braids that were always coming undone. Her father was shouting and moaning behind her as the withdrawal tore him apart. A knock at the door sent her running. The new liaison from the brigade pushed a rumpled, paper-wrapped package into her small, trembling hands. She jumped as the door slammed shut.
The younger Iryana peeled back the paper to reveal a black cake of dried, pressed opium made from the Beast’s Poppy. The sight always made her want to vomit, crush the drugs into pieces and throw them into the fire. But that would be the same as murdering her own father.
Her stomach heaved, pulling her back to the fort, back to Pyetar staring down at her. His presence was as repulsive as the poppy, but she forced that feeling down.
“Just need to drop this off.” She gestured to her back, where her pack of plants and roots hung. Then she replayed his words; he’d saidwe. “You’re coming?”
Pyetar shrugged. “The major ordered it. This path is always full of dakii; it’s a level three mission.”
Iryana nodded, a frown tugging at her lips. She knew that a mission that dangerous always called for pulling squads together and some of the specialist soldiers in. But she wasn’t trained for level three missions, hadn’t even gone on a level two.
She’d wanted an opportunity to prove herself, but this made her nervous. Especially with so little sleep.
Pyetar was still watching her carefully, but thankfully when Iryana moved to slip past him, he didn’t stop her. She needed to be more careful around him. Pyetar already seemed suspicious, and if he caught her, he wouldn’t hesitate to turn her in. But she’d have to worry about that later.
Pyetar wasn’t the only new face joining them on the scouting mission west of the fort. Darish said their goal was to thin out the dakii, but Iryana felt like they were looking for something else too.
She trudged along with the others as they followed a rough path between the trees. The ground was slowly drying out, and the air was warm enough that she didn’t need a cloak over her armor and wool tunic. But despite the nice weather, the group was less chatty than usual. Their eyes hardly left the surrounding forest. Iryana could practically feel the tension among them. The dakii were worse in these parts of the forest.
Vaneshta glanced back at her—like she had done every dozen paces. Her mouth twisted, and Iryana could practically hear the thoughts she was broadcasting. When they had set off, Vaneshta had argued with Captain Darish about Iryana coming, saying she wasn’t ready. Vaneshta had insisted it would put the rest of them in danger. He hadn’t cared.More hands are more hands, he’d said.
There was little Vaneshta could do against the order of her superior, so she had given Iryana a quick rundown of what to expect, what to do. And Vaneshta had made it clear that it was a bad idea.
Iryana looked away from her roommate. It wasn’t like it was her decision to go on the mission. She didn’t fully understand the formation they walked in, only that she was to march next to Mezhimar and another archer from another team.
“It’s quiet,” Pyetar said in a low voice from his stance at the center side of their party.
Iryana watched his stance ever so slightly widen, and then he reached out, letting his magic form in his hand. That dark, stormy beast spear again. It had only been a few days since she’d seen him defending the fort with that spear, and she remembered how well he used it.
When she tore her eyes away, she realized everyone else had formed weapons too. Mezhimar was a few paces off to her right, just finishing stringing his forgedbow and nocking a wooden arrow from his quiver. He was quicker at forging his bow than most guardians in her family, unfurling the string he kept at his waist and hooking the end of the bow as it materialized. He could bend the bow, string the other side, and proceed right into nocking and drawing as if it were one smooth movement. It was impressive.
There were plenty of purple and gray-tinged spears, shields, war axes, and war hammers at the ready as well, few as deeply colored as Pyetar’s.
“Spread out.” Darish took a few steps in front of the group, slowly turning and inspecting the trees.
With everyone on alert, the party was quieter, and Iryana could hear the forest. The silence.
She took a few steps down the path, further from the others, and nocked an arrow. The wait felt bloated, charged.
They came from the south, from Pyetar’s side. Blurs of gray-blue fur and gnashing black teeth.
