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Chapter Fifteen

The next morning Iryana skipped breakfast, unable to face her younger sister. She had barely slept, barely done anything other than stare at the wall. It all felt too much, too heavy.

It was the last day of the Cold Moon, the eleventh moon of the year, and the moonless night was upon them. Today, she’d officially be named Third. Heir. She didn’t feel worthy of it. Didn’t feel worthy of anything.

Most people thought she was getting better. She had made significant progress, but it was all surface-level. She had moved into the house, could make it through clan gatherings without having panic attacks. She had taken on the responsibilities of being Third and of building the new alliances.

No one knew how much her father’s words still haunted her, much as she tried to ignore them. How much her own thoughts ripped her apart. They didn’t know how many times a day she had to push aside doubts and fears. Her progress was all fake.

Not being able to say goodbye to Pyetar stressed her out more than she thought it should. And she worried about the ceremony every minute it grew nearer. The fear of being unworthy wouldn’t keep her from taking those oaths, but they were forever. They couldn’t be taken back.

She worried that maybe she should listen to the fear.

Iryana stared at her armor from across her room.

It was guardian armor like she’d worn before, overlapping plates of hardened near-black leather. But instead of simple cord tying the lamellae plates together, it was finely woven purple cord. The helmet was blackened steel, leather plates fanning down to cover her neck. A crest of three spears, that had been heated until they turned a brilliant deep plum color, rose from the front of the helmet.

The official armor of a clan Third.

She could barely make herself look at it.

Iryana already wore the short dress and pants that were stitched with all the elementals’ symbols, despite the fact that they’d be entirely covered by the armor. Aunt Emadya had dropped them off for her earlier in the day, leaving them neatly folded on her bed. Putting them on had been comfortable enough, like the formal clan dress she’d worn, but something about the armor felt different.

Like once the leather armor was strapped to her legs and arms, wrapped around her chest, she had to be ready for an attack. To defend her clan. Not just as a guardian, but as heir. As Third.

Iryana’s hands were trembling as she sank down against the side of her simple wooden bed, her butt hitting the floor with a thud.

The latch scraped against wood and the door slid open, Hadima peeking inside. Her eyes traced over Iryana, curled up against the bed, and she immediately slipped inside.

“Hey,” Hadima soothed, sitting down on the floor next to Iryana, her legs folding nearly beneath her skirts. She didn’t look surprised; she looked like she’d expected this.

Iryana leaned her head on her knees and watched Hadima. They’d been through so much—together and apart. Yet here they were, the clan healer and the clan heir.

“I’m just so afraid of letting everyone down,” Iryana admitted.

“You’re not the only one. But we do what we must. We all have our roles. Our duties.”

“I know,” Iryana admitted softly.

“We’re going to do it together, right?” Hadima raised her delicately arching brows.

Iryana smiled lightly. “Yeah, together.”

“Let me braid your hair.”

Iryana turned and waited quietly as Hadima undid the sloppy braid Iryana had managed earlier, running fingers through her long golden-brown hair. Hadima’s hands were quick as she braided.

When Hadima was done, letting the braid fall against Iryana’s back, she wrapped her arms around Iryana’s shoulders. “I love you. And I am proud of you.”

Iryana choked with a sob. “I love you too, Hadi.”

She clung to Hadima, whose arms wrapped around her tightly. It was like her sister was holding her together so she didn’t fall apart. Like her sister was promising to always help hold her together.

“I’m just saying.” Iryana wiped her tears away. “It’s not too late to ask Levek to take my place.”

Iryana startled slightly as the door opened.

“Hell no,” Levek said, face scrunched with disgust as he slipped into the room. “I would be a horrible heir. We trust you, Iri.”