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Iryana could feel Lidishta and some of the others glancing at her and Pyetar. Thankfully, she didn’t ask about it in front of Kladara.

“So, why aren’t you married?” Lidishta gestured at Pyetar.

It took everything in her not to glance at Pyetar or throw something at Lidishta.

“It’s not your turn to ask for a truth,” Pepha protested.

“I’ll ask it then,” Kladara announced, smirking. Probably looking forward to needling him as some kind of petty revenge.

Pyetar cleared his throat, and while she couldn’t see him, Iryana could tell he was preparing to say something uncomfortable. Gods help them. She almost groaned.

“Well, up until a few months ago, my brother would have either used anyone I got close with to control me, or decided they were a threat to his power over me and had them killed. Courting anyone would have put them at risk. I’ve lost enough friends already.”

Kladara looked shocked by Pyetar’s honesty, like she couldn’t quite equate it with what she thought of him.

“Although…” Pyetar added, his gaze lingering on Lidishta and then drifting to Vaneshta. “Vaneshta is ketsan too. Perhaps she’s planning a spring wedding.”

The two women both turned bright red, and Pyetar cracked a smile.

“Is that your question?” Vaneshta demanded, narrowing her eyes as if threatening to stab him if he dared.

“No.” He turned to Pepha. “Are you happy in the 18th, Pepha?”

Pepha just shrugged. “I don’t mind it, usually. And my friends are here. That’s the closest I have to family now.”

Iryana grinned softly, noticing that Mezhimar was hiding a smile of his own.

“Well, who are you asking next?” Vabihn pushed when Pepha was silent for a while.

Pepha took a slow breath, straightened, and then turned to Mezhimar.

“Why do you always help me? I’ve seen how you get back at anyone who bothers me. I’ve noticed, even though you don’t say anything.” Her voice was hard and insistent.

“What?” Mezhimar mumbled, staring at her like a startled deer.

“I know I’m paranoid, I talk too much.” Pepha spoke faster with every word, growing more upset. “I’m definitely a mess, but I’m not helpless. I don’t want you to feel bad for me, so if it’s all just pity—”

Mezhimar glanced toward the exit and leaned forward, like he was going to bolt. But instead, he leaned over to Pepha, quickly tapping his mouth to hers before sitting back. “That’s why.”

Kladara and Hadima gasped, but the others just eyed the two of them as if the fate of their friend group rested on this.

Pepha blinked three times. “Oh.”

Mezhimar worked his jaw from side to side, waiting anxiously for Pepha to say something. But she just kept blinking up at him, eyes wide.

“My turn to ask a question,” Mezhimar declared gruffly. “Pepha, do you…” He looked nervously around the rest of them, leaning forward in anticipation, as if remembering they were all there. He swallowed and turned back to Pepha. “Are you okay with me… having feelings for you? If you never want me to mention it again, I—”

“I’m okay with it,” Pepha said quickly, cheeks turning red.

“Oh, good.” Mezhimar smiled at her, a cautious tilt of his lips.

Now everyone cheered, Iryana laughing at the joy of it. But then the reality slowly sank in and she grew solemn. Would there even be time for Pepha and Mezhimar? Would they make it through the next week?

Pyetar leaned over while they were distracted. “We’re going to get through this,” he promised her.

Iryana looked between his hooded blue eyes. “I hope so.”

Iryana took advantage of the daylight by doing her rounds around the temple and camp, trying to feel like she was contributing. She helped where she could, offering encouragement and helping connect those who were struggling with those most able to help. One of the soldier’s husbands was a weaver, and though there was no loom, she brought him to Teshya to see if his skills could be utilized. While tentative, they seemed to be working well together. These small arrangements were easier than convincing them to work together as a whole, and it at least made her feel like she was doing something.