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“You said you’d follow my orders. I’m ordering you to let me carry you.”
Misha relaxed after a moment, head dropping to Iryana’s shoulder. “Thank you, Iri.”
Iryana stood on the covered walk above the gate tower. She couldn’t see the entirety of the lower valley, but she could see the western watchtower and the makeshift platform they’d rebuilt out of the eastern one. And she could hear the signals the scouts sent out.
She’d taken over for Tonhald, sent him to rest; she just couldn’t sleep. At least here she knew what was happening instead of tossing and turning in her bed, wondering.
The Bitter Moon was a low, waning crescent in the sky, casting long shadows across the snow. The bare, skeletal branches of the birch trees looked like hands from up on the wall. Like giants had been buried by the snow and were thrusting their hands up, reaching out of the depths.
They’d made it through the day, but they had to make it two more days to give those retreating the time they needed. There was no saying how long the reprieve between waves of attacks would last.
She tried to comfort herself with the thought that daybreak was still hours away, but the looming weight was slowly crushing her to death. And her heart raced.
“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” came Pyetar’s deep voice, accompanied by the light tapping of boots against ladder rungs.
Chapter Forty-One
“Shouldn’t you be asleep, too?” Iryana turned her head, surprised to see Pyetar. He’d looked ready to drop the last time she’d seen him.
“I slept a little. It’s enough.”
She shook her head. But she hadn’t gotten any more sleep than that herself. She’d left Misha curled up beneath the covers.
Pyetar reached her side. They were nearly shoulder to shoulder, and his eyes scanned the scene before them. “All quiet?”
“So far.”
They shared a somber moment, looking down at the valley below them. She hardly knew how to act around him now. Pyetar made it harder to keep her real thoughts and feelings repressed, harder to cling to the numbness she needed to weather this. Every day she felt a little clearer, and it was easier to trust in the strength and skills of those around her. To keep up the momentum of the plan they’d set in place.
“Do you think we can make it two more days?” she asked.
He didn’t answer. Iryana wouldn’t have either.
She thought of Misha in her bed and tried to put together a way to get her sister through this alive. But her mind was so tired and her breaths became quick, short pants. She couldn’t get enough air.
“Can we pretend for a moment that this is all going to work out?” Iryana whispered quickly, fingers clutching the railing. “That we can hold this post for another three weeks? That the gods will defeat Noshtiz and everything will be alright?”
Pyetar was quiet for a moment. “What will you do first? After we win?”
Iryana tried to focus on the question, her chest still heaving. “I want to be alone for a little while. Just a few hours. Just sit under a tree somewhere where it’s quiet and not have to worry about what might come.”
“I want to take an ice bath in the river.”
“You’re not cold enough?” Iryana scoffed, breathing starting to level out. “I want to be warm. I’d love a hot bath.”
“I just want to feel clean.”
“Alright, I can accept you taking an ice bath, then. But I still find the idea physically painful.”
“And I’m tired of rations,” he admitted, the rougher edges of his voice softening. “I want a potato stew with fresh meat. I want to drink so much ale I burst. And pies, lots of pies.”
Iryana laughed. “My teeth hurt from chewing so much jerky.”
“Mine too.” His smile slowly fell. “What do you think will happen with all the gods’ creatures after they’re done with their war?”
She sobered. “I don’t know. Will they all be defeated? Will the gods need them? I like to hope most of them will be killed in the war.”
“We can only hope.”
