They went straight back home, not even bothering to say goodbye to the others. Sierra knew they’d lose the men if they didn’t act quickly. Matilda wanted her money right then, but Sashe only had ten ryrels on her, and they convinced her to wait for the rest until they got back.
“If you get back,” Matilda had said before sweeping up the steps that led to the manor’s front doors.
Sierra took all the Mahri items they had in their house, just in case she needed them: a sleep syrup, a slow-healing potion for bruises and well-being, and a jar of powder that caused instant darkness. She threw them in her bag, along with a dress, a mat, blankets, and any food what wouldn’t spoil.
As they saddled their horses, Sashe asked, “Are you sure about this?”
“What’s to be sure about? We’re going to help, going to make sure they don’t get themselves killed.”
“And if we get ourselves killed?”
Sierra jerked on her horse’s bridle, startling him. She stroked his face and muttered an apology, then turned to Sashe. “Do you doubt us and our abilities? We’ll be fine, Sashe. Seth and Dar trained us, we’ve fought before, we’re smart. Just because we’re nonmagic—”
“Yes, I know,” Sashe said, waving a hand. She began tying her hair back with a ribbon, then looked to Sierra. “Can you do this?”
Sierra nodded and turned Sashe around. Her black hair was long and thick, much like Sierra’s, but a bit darker. Sierra pulled it back into a ribbon, then smoothed down the shoulders of her traveling dress. Sashe usually wore dresses fit for a noble, and even in her traveling gear, she seemed regal. Sierra wasn’t quite sure how her older sister accomplished that, having grown up in a farming town. Sierra herself looked more like the typical Shyran woman: sturdy, sensible. Though she did spend a vain amount of time on her hair, which both she and Evan loved. Sashe braided it back for her, then they were on their way.