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Iryana stared out at the clearing, the poppies reaching out of the snow. Suddenly still. Suddenly quiet.
It started to sink in.
“I—” Iryana shook her head violently.
It was like her mind ran an endless circuit—unable to accept what she’d learned, but unable to let it go. She pressed her hands to her cheeks, trying to focus on the feel of the coarse wool. Pyetar was rubbing her back.
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
“You’re shaking,” Pyetar said roughly, meeting her eyes. The worry, the shock… it was all reflected in his gaze.
She was shaking. Her whole body was trembling. Her breaths were mere gasps and sputters.
“Let me get you out of the cold.” Pyetar righted her snowshoes, pulling her pack from where it had sunk into the snow and heaved it over his shoulder.
Iryana let him pull her up, let him lead her away from the clearing with a firm grip on her wrist. Let him take her through the trees. All the while, her mind spun.
When Pyetar pulled her toward a smaller cave, Iryana realized they had backtracked, though this cave was thankfully without a giant pool of poisoned water.
Iryana sunk down onto the floor while Pyetar started setting up their camp. He sat their fire-imbued lantern beside her to ward off the worst of the cold, casting the stone walls around them in golden warmth. She just watched Pyetar’s broad back as he worked, trying to make sense of everything.
The gods were returning. The war was to continue. The dakii were an army. She had to protect her clan.
She had to protect her clan.
Pulling her knees tight against her chest, Iryana dropped her head.
How the hell was she supposed to do that? She was just pretending she knew how to be Third, pretending she could handle it. Now she had to get them through a gods’ war? It was too much. She couldn’t do that.
What would they even do? They’d already retreated to the far corners of Istri. Where else was there left to run?
Gods, she hoped the First would know what to do. Her grandmother would guide them through this, just like she brought the clan through the arrival of the dakii. But was there any way they’d make it through this unscathed?
Could they make it through at all?
She couldn’t stop a sob from ripping out of her throat.
Strong arms immediately wrapped around her, pulling her into a warm chest.
“I’m here.” Pyetar ran his hand up and down her back.
It was all crashing around her.
“I can’t do this,” she cried. She could hardly breathe, hardly see through her tears.
“We’ll do it together.”
“No, we won’t! You’ll be at the fort and I’ll be at my post!”
“Then I’ll leave the 18th now and—”
“You know that’s not an option. Not for either of us. My clan isn’t ready for it. And—and we need this alliance more than ever, don’t we?”
Pyetar sighed, pulling her tighter against him. His lips pressed into her hair. He didn’t have an answer.
She sat there, curled in his arms and listening to his heartbeat. Desperately trying to calm down despite the roar of thoughts ravaging her mind.
“Are we all going to die?” she whispered.
