He walked a slow arc in the snow in front of her, gazing into the forest beyond. “Had you been raised in a clan, as my heir, I would have trained you to lead your people into battle.”
Your people. What would it have been like to grow up as the daughter of a Makvani clan leader? She imagined herself hunting beside Pashla, learning to fight in preparation for her first Challenge. Would she have been friends with Adele? Would she look upon humans as lower beings and despise that part of herself?
“But I wasn’t raised your heir, was I?” She’d grown up in the gutter, about as far from leading a desert village or a Makvani clan as she could get. “And I only have eleven fighters to lead into battle.”
“Do you pity yourself, that I did not give you more help? A true leader would not rely on the charity of others.”
And here it was again, another reminder that she didn’t measure up. “And I suppose you’d rather have me kill all the Edlan soldiers with my bare hands,” Kyra said bitterly. “Or was I supposed to have inspired more of your people to follow me?”
“I’d rather have you know yourself and your own strengths, and to act with purpose. That is the first lesson I would have taught you, had I raised you.” There was no sentimentality in Leyus’s voice, just his direct and unflinching words. Anger stirred in Kyra’s chest. Would it kill him to express even some scrap of regard for her? Some minuscule hint of happiness to have discovered the daughter he’d lost?
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to learn your lessons,” she said. She kept her voice low and cold so it wouldn’t quaver. “But I will do my best with the things I’ve learned in the life I’ve had. I must ask you to leave now, as we have many preparations to make.”
“To have command of eleven of your kin is no small thing. Use your power wisely.”
He left her then, and as soon as he was out of sight, Kyra took her frustrations out on a nearby tree, kicking and pummeling it with her fists. What she really wanted to do was scream, but she retained at least the presence of mind to remain quiet. Her shoes were soft leather and the tree was sturdy, so all she managed to do was bruise her toes and send shooting pains up her elbow. At some point during her tantrum, Pashla came to stand next to her and quietly watched until Kyra was still again.
“If this is what it’s like to have a father,” said Kyra under her breath, “I’d rather go back to being an orphan.”
“He does wish you to succeed, Kyra,” Pashla said. “He would not have come to speak to you if he did not care.”
Pashla’s voice was as calm and smooth as a healer’s balm, yet Kyra resisted her words. “If he wanted me to succeed, he could have given me more help. Instead, he lists my failures and gives me useless advice.”
“To know your strengths and act with purpose is not useless advice,” Pashla said. So she’d been eavesdropping.
“I know my strengths, and they’re nothing like what I need to see this through. I’m a thief. I climb rooftops, I slip into windows, and I steal things.” Her voice got louder as she spoke. “I’ve no idea how to lead fighters into battle, and with this coming raid, I feel like I’m running headlong toward the edge of a precipice.”
“Then perhaps our plan is the wrong one,” Pashla said.
Pashla’s words surprised her. Kyra supposed she’d expected the clanswoman to be in favor of a raid and nothing else.
“You think so?” Kyra asked. “But what else is there?”
“I don’t know. You are not like us.”
Well, that was one thing the two of them could agree upon. Kyra sank down into the snow and leaned back against a tree, paying no heed to the cold seeping into her trousers or the rough bark pulling at her hair. She stayed like that for a long while, eyes closed, simply trying to hold on to what sanity she had left. Then she sat bolt upright.