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She wanted to follow Pyetar but hesitated, glancing toward Hadima.

“Hadi.” Iryana tentatively placed her hand on her sister’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I got so upset last night, I know you’re in an impossible situation.”

Hadima smiled weakly. “It’s okay, I should have run it past you beforehand. I don’t blame you for not handling the surprise well.”

“Okay, we’ll… we’ll talk later,” Iryana squeezed Hadima’s shoulder and took a step back. “I need to make sure he’s alright.”

Hadima nodded.

Iryana eventually found Pyetar alone in the war tent at the far end of the camp. It wasn’t much warmer than the outside air, but it was at least sheltered from the wind.

Pyetar leaned over the makeshift table, fingers gripping the sides so tightly she was sure his fingers were white under those gloves. She approached him hesitantly.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“They’re dead because I didn’t take them in,” Pyetar bit out, chest heaving.

Iryana stepped closer. “They’re dead because they didn’t retreat when we asked them to.”

He shook his head violently, face crumpling. “I could have saved them.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.” He stared at the table. “They’re dead because of me.”

Iryana grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her. “Pyetar, you made the best call you could. You had no way of knowing what would happen.”

“I made the best choice for me, because I didn’t want to be responsible for more people.” He sounded so tormented, but he didn’t pull away.

Iryana slipped her hands down his neck, over his chest, and around his waist. She held him tightly. “There’s no undoing it; you just have to focus on the next step. The next course of action. We can all mourn and wallow in our regrets once this is over. I’m sure we’ll have many.”

Pyetar pressed his face into the wool scarf wrapped around her head and neck. His arms wrapped around her, clinging to her. He said nothing else, just breathed. Iryana held him.

If they survived this war, this would follow them. There would be so much grief, so many regrets and pain that would take a long time to heal.

“It’s getting bad again, isn’t it?” Hadima asked softly that evening as she finished covering Iryana’s wound with the imbued paste.

Iryana winced, looking at the deceptively painful gash on her shoulder. The dakya hadn’t gotten her, but she’d grazed one of the spikes at the front when the beast had pounced on her.

“It’s not too bad,” Iryana said defensively. “Not nearly as bad as it got before.”

Hadima paused, the bandage she was holding hovering over the wound. “You mean it’s not as bad as when you nearly died?” Her voice was hard.

Iryana looked at Hadima’s cluttered worktable and bare shelves instead of at her sister.

“I’m keeping a close eye on it. I will stop using my forgings if it gets too bad.”

“Have you made any progress settling the magic?”

Iryana sighed. “No? Maybe? The meditation doesn’t really help. I haven’t had too much time to think about it.”

Hadima wrapped the bandage around Iryana’s shoulder, securing it tightly.

“You can’t push yourself until you have nothing left to give. Until you can’t even defend yourself.”

Iryana let out a pained laugh. “If I can make it the next few weeks, either it won’t matter anymore or I will have plenty of time to figure it out.”

“Iri…”