They spoke little at first. Just murmured questions and short confirmations amidst the rustle of parchment and the soft scratch of a quill. But the silence was never awkward. It was focused. Purposeful.
Iryana was earning her place.
She pointed out everything she noticed: shifts in routines, the way guard rotations lagged a bit longer after supply days, the way they adjusted for a night of partying and the resulting morning when so many were hungover. Karvek rarely interrupted, but sometimes leaned closer, following her line of thought, making adjustments in his own notes.
Sometimes captains she only recognized by the green belt around their waists slipped into the room and passed Karvek sealed letters or whispered in his ear. She burned with curiosity, but kept herself from asking.
But a few hours into the third night, they received a new set of diagrams. They unrolled them together on the table, pushing aside what they’d been working on before.
She started scanning the diagrams, looking for anything new. In the corner of one page was a note about the general’s movements within Midmarket.
Her heart began to thud wildly. She wasn’t sure if she was meant to see that. Karvek had been careful not to name the place they were analyzing. She had heard Midmarket whispered about; it was where the general of the 18th lived. Karvek’s superior. Karvek would see the note soon enough, know she saw it. She couldn’t pretend she hadn’t.
“So,” she started softly. “You’re infiltrating Midmarket?”
Karvek stilled. Just for a breath—but the air changed. Tense and bloated.
He didn’t look at her at first. He finished reading the notes scrawled down the side, then turned to look down at her.
“Iryana,” he said gently, “you see things others don’t. You understand the patterns. That’s rare. And it’s useful.”
She said nothing. Just waited.
He looked at her then, with an almost fond expression. “You’re new to our way of life, to the 18th. But answer me this: what happens when a leader is dying? Sick? Unable to rule? Especially in a dangerous world like ours.”
She frowned, hesitating. “Someone else has to step in, hold power. Keep people in line.”
“And if the wrong person stepped in?” His voice was low, almost coaxing. “That would be a problem.”
“So—” she started, then stopped. “The general of the 18th is sick? And you’re worried the wrong people will wrestle control?”
Karvek gave a soft breath that could have been a sigh or a smile. “Exactly,” he said. Then his voice gentled. “The general has been training me to take over. It was always the plan, especially with my family’s legacy. But there are factions of Midmarket that are moving in as well. I have to get there first, before it’s too late. Those factions would keep me and my soldiers from entering, so I have to sneak in and take position. Complete the handover with the general formally.”
She nodded slowly at his sharp gaze that was tracing over her face, as if gauging her reaction. “I understand.”
He turned back to the maps without another word, as if the matter were settled. And she didn’t press again. The whole thing made her nervous, but the world they lived in was not for the meek.
There was more pressure now, knowing what was at stake. And she couldn’t help worrying over what would happen to the 18th’s territory if the wrong person took over. It could make things even worse for her family. And if Karvek ended up demoted or punished for failing, her chances of being accepted might be lost.
They had to succeed.
So she ignored the twinges of suspicion and worry that there were too many aspects of this plan that she was in the dark about and got back to work.
The next day, Vaneshta questioned her again about avoiding the team for dinners and coming back to their room so late. There’d been a suspicious glint in her eye, and Iryana knew she’d heard the rumors. When Iryana just repeated her story, that she was answering Karvek’s questions about the settlement, Vaneshta sighed and walked away. There was a noticeable strain when she worked with her team, but Iryana knew Karvek was her best chance for success. Besides, it was only temporary.
And Karvek’s study soon became a retreat, a safe space. No one watching and judging. Just Karvek, happy to let her focus on her work. Not caring when she struggled to make conversation.
She could finally breathe.
Iryana slipped through the side gate of the barracks, walking in the shadows that pooled along the wall where the moonlight couldn’t reach. The hood of her thin black cloak was pulled over her shoulder and braid, hiding the armor and pack she wore underneath. Her bow and quiver were cradled under her left arm. If everything went according to plan, she wouldn’t need them.
Sheneededeverything to go according to plan.
Rounding the barrack’s stables was easy, but that left her staring at the exposed expanse beyond her safe shadows and the back fence of the estate. The well-trodden grass was bathed in the soft glow of the moon.
Iryana looked up at the torches on the top of the wall, evenly spread out across the walk. She knew the soldier on this bit of the wall would walk from the tower at the main gate all the way to the corner tower and then stop to scan the ground around the fort. It was impossible to make out the soldiers in the dark from such a distance. The roof over the walk blocked even the moonlight, but Iryana was patient.
One of the torches midway down the south wall went dark, for just a moment. Then, the torch on the left flickered a little while later. The corner of Iryana’s lip perked up. The south guard was moving away from the river, facing away from Iryana.
