Ryn

Chapter Twenty Six

"I'll admit," Ilya said as he slowly painted Mishal, "I thought you were going to tell me about romantic troubles or something like that."

"Not 'we need to replace my queen and someone wants me to be the new one' kind of serious?" I asked as I leaned against the stall's counter.

Ilya laughed. "Exactly." The fyn was far calmer while painting, every trace of anxiety gone from his face. "I mean, that's a lot of stuff to take in at once."

"I can't believe I told you." I sighed. "I stopped myself from telling someone earlier because I barely knew them, and here I am telling you."

Mishal chirped as she looked down at the painting of herself, making a pleased sound. "I think she likes it," I said, sitting up straighter to get a better look at it. "I can't imagine why she wouldn't. It's gorgeous."

"Thank you." Ilya's cheeks reddened again, giving his face a sort of childish charm, as he smiled awkwardly. "I've spent most of my life painting." He sighed, the smile slowly fading from his face. "Unfortunately, there's not a lot to paint here. When you've painted one glacier, you've painted them all."

"It must be nice," I commented idly, glancing at the various paintings that were set up in Ilya's area. "Having this sort of talent, I mean. Ryns aren't exactly artistically inclined, so I couldn't even dream of doing anything like that."

Ilya set his paintbrush down. "Anita. Are all Ryns capable of combat immediately?"

"Of course not," I replied automatically. "We spend a lot of time training and- oh. You're gonna tell me that Moras are exactly the same, right?"

"You're very intelligent," Ilya said with a light laugh. "I see what Queen Galina meant."

"So you agree?" I asked glumly, leaning my chin on my hand.

Ilya shrugged as he went back to his painting. "I don't know. I think it's up to you."

"You sound just like my mates- well, one of them at least."

"Do they disagree?"

"Two of them do. But my Uncle Shurik and Mako, my best friend, they both agree."

"I'm not sure what I can say." Ilya shrugged. "I mean, it's going to be a hell of a time for you either way. But from the way you've been talking, I think you might want to do it."

I blinked. "What do you mean?"

Ilya glanced back at me, a smudge of paint on his cheek. "You keep bringing up reasons why you should, but I haven't heard anything negative about the idea other than how dangerous it would be."

"A high risk of dying is definitely an important factor in my decision," I said wryly.

"Shouldn't Ryns be fearless or something?"

"Didn't we just have a conversation about stereotypes?"

Ilya laughed. "You've caught me! The teacher has been taught." He set the brush down again and turned to face me. "Anita, I don't know everything you've been through. I don't really know you well at all. But I can tell that you feel called to do what's right."

I frowned and closed my eyes. "What if I don't feel that way? What if I just feel scared?"

"Anita." I felt a hand on my shoulder and opened my eyes back up. Ilya was gently smiling down at me. "I'm not fearless. But when I do what I love, what I feel is right, I have confidence. Being comfortable with what you do is half the battle."

"You missed your calling. You could have been a fantastic motivational speaker."

Ilya laughed again and turned back to his painting once more. "You know, it's normal to be scared. Hell, my Trial pitted me against a Ryn. That's every Mora's nightmare. I thought I was going to pass out when I stood in the arena."