Page 122

She’d take care of her sisters.

Iryana accepted the offered ale from one of the villagers and took a hearty gulp.

She was determined to put everything aside for tonight. She wouldn’t worry about the coming gods’ war, wouldn’t think about Pyetar and how much she missed him, how much she already grieved losing him. She wouldn’t think about what was going to happen to her clan or the panic she’d release on them soon.

It was time for the winter solstice festival.

Her hair was down beneath the moon headdress, and she wore a fire-imbued coat, though lighter than usual, given how warm she was from the dancing and drinking.

The clan and the villagers had worked hard for this festival, and it paid off. Strings of paper flowers and stars hung around the courtyard, which had been brushed free of snow. The hall was similarly decorated, the tables a proper feast of pies and cakes and candies after more than a month of winter rations.

Lanterns hung everywhere, and a bonfire roared in the center of the courtyard where the training yard usually was. The sky was moonless, but it wasn’t dark. The auroras were so strong that night that they were easily visible despite the fires and lanterns. Blues, greens, and purples danced overhead, and the sky glowed.

It was beautiful, the perfect night.

Uncle Dinhal and some of the others played jaunty songs near the stables, where a crowd skipped and hopped with linked hands around the fire. Her cousins ran games in the side yard where the younger unforged typically played.

It was easy to ignore her worries when everyone was so joyful. The energy in the air was contagious.

While the winter solstice wasn’t a gift-exchanging holiday, it was a day to appreciate what you had and to show love and gratitude. Sometimes that included gifts. She held a gift she’d prepared in her hands, nervously switching how she was holding it to make it less noticeable as she searched for her younger sister.

Things had been going so well since she’d told her sisters about the gods’ war. Misha talked to her, even joked around with her. Was happy to spend time near her when Hadima was around. They hadn’t spent much time just the two of them yet, but it was progress. She knew Misha hadn’t forgotten her pain, her resentment. It lingered there below the surface, but she hoped Misha was ready to start forgiving. Start forgetting.

Iryana hoped she could forget her own pain one day, too.

She smiled when she found Misha out in the courtyard, flushed and smiling as she clapped along with Levek’s soft beating of the drums. She looked so happy. So carefree.

When the song ended, Iryana took a steadying breath and walked up to her sister’s side.

“I have something for you.”

When Misha turned toward her, she pushed the cotton-wrapped gift into her arms.

Misha stared down at it, face too shadowed to read. “What is it?”

“It’s a solstice gift…”

Misha just kept looking at it, not moving to unwrap it. Was she that surprised?

“Uh.” Iryana rubbed her sweating hands on her coat and then grabbed the bundle back to pull the wrapping off.

She revealed a falchion with a shining pommel and crossbar, a leather-wrapped grip, sheathed in a hardened scabbard. It was lightweight and perfectly balanced; the blade was slightly shorter than was standard, a perfect weapon for someone on the smaller end. She’d written to Vaneshta a while back to have the brigade’s blacksmith craft it.

“For you.” Iryana pushed the sheathed sword back into her sister’s hands. “I noticed you like training with a falchion, and you’ll need a real one soon enough. I can… show you how to train with a sharp sword. We could do it together.”

Her heart was beating so fast, but Iryana held firm.

“You—” Misha visibly swallowed. “The—”

Iryana frowned. Misha didn’t look excited or annoyed as she’d feared. She looked devastated.

Panic surged, but before Iryana could say anything else, Misha pushed the falchion back into Iryana’s arms and tore into the crowd. Iryana called after her sister, but she didn’t stop or turn.

Iryana stood there for a moment, arms still holding out the gift.

She’d fucked up. She’d pushed Misha too far, too soon. Scared her. Undid all the progress they’d made the last week. She wanted to throw the falchion to the ground, but she couldn’t. That would mean giving up hope completely, and Iryana couldn’t bear to do that. One day, she would give the blade to her sister.

Gods, she should have let Misha take the lead.