Page 9 of Because the Gods Left

Slowly the door opened, and Teshya crept out, sliding silently across the floor and gently pulling the door shut behind her. She held a finger to her lips and offered Iryana a tired smile as she listened, trying to see if Anara stayed asleep.

Iryana couldn’t help but notice Teshya’s wan face, the dark smudges beneath her red-rimmed, wide-set eyes. Teshya hadn’t bothered trying to tame her hair yet that morning; the dark brown curling wildly to frame her face and tumble down her back. Motherhood was not without sacrifice.

Satisfied, Teshya waved for Iryana to follow her down the hall and farther from the sleeping babe.

“Third,” the tired woman said in greeting, voice still raspy from sleep. “What can I do for you?”

Iryana swallowed, hating that she had to ask more of the fire-forged.

“The First doesn’t find my winter wardrobe to be adequate for my new duties,” Iryana began awkwardly. “Could I help you find some time to make a few imbued pieces for me…”

Teshya smiled warmly, with a motherly softness. “Of course. I had the same realization last week. I already started putting together a few things. I know I’ve never knitted you an underlayer. But I will try to find time for some coats and hats too. And before you ask, you can tell your grandmother that I’m almost done with everything for the pilgrimage. I will stay up if I need to, but it will be done.”

Iryana tried to return her smile, but she felt too guilty. “Perhaps I can watch little Anara later, give you a few easier hours.”

“Emadya is already taking her this afternoon,”

“Oh.” Iryana tried to think of something else she could do to help her cousin’s wife, to make things easier, but she was about to leave for weeks. There wasn’t much time.

“How about you watch her for a while once you’re back.”

“Yes,” Iryana smiled. “Yes, I can do that.”

“Do you need anything else? Because if not, I promised my Tono that I’d join him for breakfast once Anara was down.”

“No, no. You go ahead.” Iryana didn’t want to take anymore of the brief time her oldest cousin got to spend with his wife.

After parting ways with Teshya, Iryana sought her grandmother. She slipped quietly through the halls, mind still spinning on solutions to strengthen the post through winter.

Later that morning, Iryana watched the training yard. Uncle Byorsh had wanted her to see how they were progressing with some of the formation tactics she’d shown them, and while she had made a few suggestions, she wasn’t an expert. She’d mentioned that instructors at the brigade could teach far more, but her uncle had scoffed at that.

Now she lingered, though she was supposed to be coming up with ideas to supplement their supplies—her grandmother had pointed out flaws in everything she’d come up with so far—but she kept finding herself watching her younger sister.

Misha was only just nearing her fourteenth birthday, but she already moved like a full guardian. She picked up the formations quicker than the others, trained with the older cousins instead of the other unforged most of the time. There was so much focus behind her every movement. Misha wanted to be a guardian; it was obvious watching her.

Iryana had heard their Uncle Dinhal say Misha was practically a prodigy, and that scared her.

The family didn’t put those under sixteen—those yet to give their oaths—in any real danger. They didn’t stand guard or go beyond the wall. And even once they were full guardians, they were usually kept on safer missions until they were forged. But a prodigy… her family would make use of her as soon as they could. And Misha looked so desperate to prove herself she’d gladly take on dangerous missions.

Once, Iryana had been like that too.

Iryana wanted to keep her sister safe, to protect her, but Misha was almost a woman, a couple of years from taking her oaths. Iryana had to hope that she could mend the rift between them, that they’d one day fight side by side. Despite Hadima’s assurances that Misha would come around, Iryana struggled to expect it to happen anytime soon. Misha was just so distant. But Iryana would keep trying.

Iryana crossed over to where Misha stepped through her drills, her staff snapping through the air with expert precision. Iryana ignored her frantic nerves. She had offered to help Misha train, and at first her sister had agreed, but now she provided excuses anytime Iryana brought it up, so she hadn’t tried in a while. She figured her sister needed space, she just wasn’t sure how much or for how long.

“You’ve improved a lot this year,” Iryana said as she came up beside her sister. It seemed like the type of thing her sister would appreciate hearing.

Misha didn’t react at first, just finished the rest of the drill without so much as a glance at Iryana.

“I can’t focus with you hovering,” Misha mumbled, tossing one of her braids over her shoulder. “And it’s not like you actually care.”

Her heart wrenched. “Of course I care.”

The others training nearby were trying hard not to seem like they were listening.

Misha’s face darkened. “You’ve been ignoring me for years. If you cared, you’d have been here.”

“I’m sorry.” Hurt stabbed into Iryana’s chest, but she didn’t know how to justify what she’d done. Perhaps because she knew she deserved Misha’s scorn. She’d been a horrible sister, and as much as Hadima had worked to bring Iryana back into the fold, it didn’t mean everything could change overnight.