After their decisive victory over Orinovo, Lys-Akkaria's army crosses the border to take back territory that used to be theirs. With the combined forces of a lightweaver and shadowforger, Orinovo doesn't stand a chance.
In spite of their newfound a...
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Yarima had initially been ecstatic to be sent on a spy mission to Kyr-Toryl, even if she had to bring Oretski with her. Or more accurately, she was going there with him because unlike Yarima, the queen trusted him to stop her from running off.
But now that they were here, cloaked so no one could recognize them, she could sense a tension that didn't belong to the place at all. Everyone around them seemed grim and glum, lost in their own thoughts, or perhaps quietly talking in a small group on the corner of a street.
It couldn't have been the war that made people feel this way, surely. Lys-Akkaria was winning, even if they had halted their march on Diramisk for now.
"Something is very wrong here," Oretski said in a surprisingly convincing Lys-Akkarian accent. Yarima hadn't known he was capable of it, given how thick his actual accent was in the Lys-Akkarian language.
"Yeah, I'm starting to think that, too," Yarima muttered to him, also in Lys-Akkarian. Talking in Orinovan, even if quietly, wasn't something they would be smart to risk. That was one of the reasons her mother had allowed her to come here.
There weren't many windwalkers who could speak Lys-Akkarian, let alone pass for the country's citizens.
"Stay close," Neven said quietly as he continued walking up the narrow street, taking the lead.
"I'm not going to run off and get you probably executed," Yarima hissed after him.
Oretski looked back at her, his expression unamused. "Right, yes. That would be unlike you."
Yarima gritted her teeth, grabbing him by the wrist and dragging him into a nearby alley. They would have privacy here.
"Okay, we need to talk before we get to the center of the city."
Oretski yanked his wrist out of her hold, folding his arms over his chest. But he stayed silent otherwise, raising his eyebrows at her to urge her to speak.
Oretski frowned at her. "Yes, I know. I have not been bickering."
Yarima pointed her finger in his face. "As if. You've been constantly making these little taunting comments to piss me off."
Oretski sighed dramatically, shrugging. At least he wasn't pretending otherwise.
"Look, I get that you're pissy right now about losing your rank. But that's not my fault," Yarima continued, making Oretski set his jaw. He still didn't say anything, though. "I am not going to do anything to get you in trouble. If only for my brother's sake."
Oretski's eyes turned sad at the mention of Denir, his gaze drifting to the ground as shoulders sank and he let his arms fall at his sides. "So he told you."
"I would have figured it out either way," Yarima said, shaking her head. "He is very clearly in love with you. And he worries about you."
Oretski sighed, pulling his cloak off his head so he could run his hands through his hair. His white hair.
