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She wished she could see the major’s face, whether he was surprised or bothered by any of it. He certainly wasn’t doing anything to shut them up.

The door to the study was locked, but it only took the major a moment to let her in.

Walking into the study was like walking back in time; nothing had changed. The large table where she’d pored over maps with Karvek, the pelt-covered couch she’d sat on beside him, and the desk where she’d watched him working. It was all the same. And the room was cold, unused.

“Do you need anything else?” Major Tenar asked. “I have a few things to take care of.”

Iryana shook her head quickly.

After he closed the door behind him, Iryana slowly peeled off her sweltering layers. She dropped her bags and weapons at the side of the couch, pulled off her hat, and then unwound the scarf around neck and added it to the pile. She finally breathed a sigh of relief once the extra layers were off, the oppressive heat dissipating.

She’d spent so much time in there with Karvek that it was like she could still feel his presence watching her. Like something of him still lingered. As she turned, taking it all in, she almost expected to see him there, watching her with that intensity he always wore. She had always understood what was expected of her in this room. Never felt like she was inadequate.

But she had also always been on edge. A little afraid.

Iryana sat at the desk, the chair squeaking as she pulled it out. There were piles of papers and journals strewn across the surface. A glance told her they were Karvek’s; she recognized the handwriting. They were probably the records Pyetar had been going through.

Avoiding the chipped crystal glass Karvek had used, she picked up the journal she remembered Karvek writing in during the long nights working on the Midmarket plan and started flipping through it as she waited for Pyetar. She quickly realized what Pyetar had meant about the shorthand being like code. It was almost impossible to make sense of. But the third time she ran across one particular term, Iryana found herself fixating on it.

The Steelsworn.

She was looking through a few of the other journals to see if she could find more of it when the door opened.

Pyetar stood in the open doorway, dressed in padded training clothes, the red belt of a general around his waist. His face was flushed and sweaty, as if he’d just finished sparring. Those blue eyes were bright as they found her. He quickly crossed the room, his long legs eating up the distance between them.

“Do you know what the Steelsworn is?” she asked at the same time he demanded, “What are you doing in here?”

Iryana tensed. “I—did you not want me to see this?”

“I just thought it was locked.” Pyetar was flustered, nervous. “I avoid this room. And I don’t like seeing you in here, imagining you in here.”

Oh. Oh. “I’m sorry. Your major let me in so I didn’t have to wait out there.”

Pyetar’s face darkened a bit.

“We don’t know what the Steelsworn is, but it’s on the list of things we’re trying to find more references on,” Pyetar told her, sounding strained as he helped her stand and led her across the room. “Let’s go to my study; we can talk there. And I can send someone for your coats and such later.”

Iryana nodded, regretting how upset she’d clearly made him.

Soldiers kept interrupting them as they made their way to the upper floor. Thanking Pyetar for helping with an initiate who was struggling, congratulating him on a successful hunt, sharing how excited they were about the upcoming tournament. While some of the soldiers were clearly still at odds with his rule, most of them seemed to want his attention and approval. Pyetar remained stoic and serious with them all.

“You started tournaments?” Iryana asked as they climbed the stairs.

Pyetar nodded; he looked tired. “The fights my brother ran were stupid, injured too many soldiers, but they were a motivator and a morale booster. I figured a tournament would give everyone something to look forward to and would help make winter more bearable. I make sure that the competitors are similarly matched so there are fewer serious injuries. Plus, they can earn extra days off by winning.”

“That’s a great idea.” Iryana couldn’t help her smile.

Pyetar glanced over at her. “You look surprised.”

“No, it’s just—I guess I thought you just wanted to ride this out. But you’ve always been a good leader, Pyetar. I’m not surprised by your potential.”

He shrugged, seeming to struggle with her praise.

Once they were finally alone in the upstairs study that Pyetar seemed to favor, he shut and locked the door behind them. Her eyes trailed over the familiar wooden furniture, the low fire in the hearth, and the couch where they’d had sex for the first time. She felt her cheeks warming at the memory.

She looked over to Pyetar to see if he was thinking about it too, only to find him entirely oblivious.

He seemed to be shaking off that version of himself he’d been in the hall, rubbing at his temples. Iryana took advantage of the time to study the room again, enjoying the heat emanating from the fire.