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“At least you aren’t helping with the butchering,” Edvar complained as he came down the stairs, thankfully wearing fresh clothes, his face and hands a bit red from being scrubbed clean.

“I’m surprised every day that you don’t faint at the sight of blood,” Kladara teased, leaning across her chair. “It’s probably good for you to get used to it!”

Edvar scrunched his face up. “Then maybe I’ll chop you up next!”

Kladara looked like she was about to chew her brother’s head off, but Tonhald cut in before she could. “Can we just get along? There’s a lot of work to be done right now, but we’ll wish we were up and about more in a few months.”

She certainly would. Iryana was not looking forward to being trapped in the house with everyone once winter was upon them. She’d have a few weeks escorting the pilgrimage to the well, and then months of unending cold ahead.

Looking over her cousins, Iryana concluded they felt the same. A hint of dread tugged at all their brows in the exact same way.

All of Uncle Byorsh and Aunt Emadya’s four children were fair, with the strong Kleesold features. But despite their similarities the three boys were easy to tell apart. Tonhald was the tallest, his nose a bit chubbier, and his expression was always that of someone fighting a migraine. Edvar, arguably the handsomest of the bunch, had a slightly slimmer face and wore his hair at chin length. And Levek, the youngest, had a blockier head-shape and a cutting stare when he wanted.

Kladara, with her wide oval face, appeared the softest, which was highly misleading. If Iryana were to pick a fight with one of them, Kladara would be her last choice.

“Besides,” Misha cut in, stepping farther into the room. “I don’t want to hear you fussing. I can’t even be on watch! It’s all drills and studying. Boring.”

“Watch is more boring than you’d think,” Edvar pointed out, raising a dark blond brow at her. “It even—”

“And drills are far better than pickling cabbage!” Kladara added, talking over her brother.

Misha planted one of her hands on her hip and stared right at Kladara. “You know, Darsha would probably give you a better job if you were more careful.”

“She definitely would,” Sanora agreed, laughing.

Kladara gasped, hand clutched to her heart. “How dare you!”

Iryana jolted slightly as Kladara launched out of her chair toward Misha. Iryana’s younger sister shrieked with laughter and stuck her tongue out, racing around the room.

It was so… normal. Family getting along, joking and playing. Comfortable and trusting in each other. Would she ever have that with them again? Or would she always be just a little to the side? In the room, but not part of it.

“Hey!” Tonhald pulled his feet back just in time to avoid Kladara landing on them as she leaped, barely avoiding knocking over the low table in the middle of the room. Teshya didn’t even look up, just kept making her knots.

It wasn’t a big enough space for the number of people in the room. It was chaos.

“There’s plenty to keep you busy if it’s all too monotonous, Mishi,” Hadima teased from the entryway where she leaned against the wall, watching the two running circles around the room. Iryana hadn’t even noticed her older sister was back among the shouting and pounding feet. There was a teasing smile on Hadima’s face.

“I yield, I yield!” Misha shouted as she ducked behind Sanora, grabbed her shoulders and held her in Kladara’s path like a shield.

Kladara’s hand snapped out and grabbed one of Misha’s two golden brown braids, giving it a tug. “Fine,” she said, while Misha yelped.

Rubbing at her head and glaring at her older cousin, Misha turned to Hadima. “You better not suggest pickling cabbages.”

Everyone settled down, finding places to sit around the room. There weren’t nearly enough seats, so some had to lean against the couches and chairs or against other furniture.

“You could follow your sister’s lead,” Hadima said calmly. Misha’s eyes flicked over to Iryana and bounced right back off. “She’s always working. I’ve seen her helping repair cottage insulation in the village, helping with the threshing, repairing the trench outside the wall, helping with the winter rye, chopping vegetables…”

The room was too quiet for a moment, Iryana slowly shrinking back against her chair.

“How do you even know how to do all those things,” Edvar complained, a slight grimace to his features, at the same time Kladara said, “She never relaxes.”

Iryana winced. Not that Kladara was wrong. She’d been avoiding training with her forged weapons, especially in front of the others.

“There was no one else to help do those things when I lived up by the old grain mill,” she tried to explain. She didn’t want them to think she judged them for not doing the same. “I’m used to staying busy and doing all the chores.”

And everyone had gotten used to Iryana helping out, asking her to assist with this and that, and she couldn’t bear to say no to them. Like she had to make up for missed time, prove that she was worthy of being Third.

The room grew even quieter, like it did every time the years Iryana had spent alone or taking care of her father came up. The rest of the family didn’t know how to handle their guilt and pity. Iryana sought for something to say, but her mind was frustratingly blank.