Finished, Karvek sauntered back up the steps, satisfaction clear in the glint in his eye. From what she knew of belting ceremonies, it had been lackluster, but putting his brother on the spot had worked.
Iryana watched Pyetar carefully as he stood, trying to understand his reaction. What he wanted.
A few of the new soldiers started working through the crowd toward Karvek. They carried baskets, but Iryana didn’t know where they’d come from. When they reached the base of the estate stairs, they sat the baskets down and turned, smirking at the crowd.
“More territory means more tribute,” Karvek announced, voice loud once again.
More theft, Iryana thought.
Karvek tossed the lid off each basket, revealing grains and iron ore and piles of leather. A fortune in goods. “And now we can bring in enough to fund our expansion.” From the last basket, he lifted a flower, holding it up to the sun.
Iryana’s breath caught in her throat.
Light filtered through the gossamer black petals and reflected off the feathered, dark-purple leaves. The flower that had come with the dakii.
The Beast’s Poppy.
She couldn’t stop staring at the flower in Karvek’s hand, struggling to come to terms with his association with it. It felt like a betrayal, even more so than his tricking her into helping him commit murder.
Pyetar was the peddler, the one with the drug operation—right? Yet it was Karvek with the poppy. The way he was looking out at the crowd—had he always looked so cruel? There was a dark, sinister intensity in his gaze that hadn’t been there before. Or perhaps she simply hadn’t noticed it. Maybe even ignored it.
Opium had existed long before the dakii came, and with as much combat as guardian families saw, the Kleesolds always had some on hand.
But when the dakii first came and a new poppy was discovered, the world had tried to shun it. Anything that came with the dakii couldn’t be good, and they should have never forgotten that lesson. But people were dying, and supplies were low. Everyone was desperate. She remembered hearing her family whisperingabout it early on, about using some of the plentiful flowers for some of the injured in Klees. To reduce their suffering.
They soon learned it was as similar to normal poppies as the dakii were to wolves. Even touching it was a mistake.
The addictiveness was the worst part. People used and used until it eventually killed them. Taking away access to the poppy only made it worse. Everything about it was horrific. How quickly it destroyed the body, how painful the withdrawals were. It was a way to escape the horrors around them, to escape the pain for a little while. Seventeen months passed from the first day they heard rumors of beasts to the day they fled Klees, and in that time the poppy took over the streets.
She remembered seeing the addicts from her window before they’d been forced to flee. The way their bodies had floated right up into the air, hovering a story or two high, pressed against a building or tree where the wind had slowly blown them. They’d drifted over the walls of the family’s fortress a time or two, bumped up against her shutters even. She’d never forget the random thuds and cracking sounds when the drug had worn off and the addicts suddenly crashed back to the ground. Hopefully dying on impact, if they were lucky.
And then they’d given it to her father.
Karvek tossed the flower back, and the baskets were carried off once more, Iryana unable to keep her eyes from following the blonde-haired soldier with the poppies. She felt ill, like the contents of her stomach were about to surge out of her.
“There will be changes to come, but for now, get back to work.”
Slowly, everyone filtered away. Iryana caught Vaneshta’s eyes for a brief moment before she turned away.
When Iryana finally pulled her attention from the direction the golden-haired soldier had taken the poppies, long since out of sight, she found Karvek standing right in front of her.
His face was intense but playful, like it had been the first few times she had met him in his study.
“I think we can do great things.” He tilted his head slightly, the sharp edge of his jaw casting a shadow down his neck. “You have so much potential. I hope you see that now.”
Iryana swallowed. Why did he have to say those things?
“No one here sees you, not the way I do. Beneath the surface, you are so full of pain, of rage.” He leaned closer to her. Could he see her shame? “I have so many plans.”
He didn’t wait for her to answer before he was moving away from her. Was that the only kind of person that could accept her for what she was? Someone just as broken? Someone willing to kill for what he wanted?
Iryana stumbled back toward the barracks, taking a side road to avoid the crowd still working their way back.
Then another Horvol was blocking her path, staring down at her with tormented blue eyes.
Gods, he knew why she was at Midmarket now.
“What do you want, Pyetar?” she demanded. She needed to be alone.
