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“We’ve heard from the Vyukovolds and the Omisolds now. They will be shoring their defenses and preparing for increased conflict. I heard from the 18th as well, and the brigades are preparing. They’re diverting a lot of their forces to large patrols to keep a close eye on the nearby territory and they’re sending specialists out far and wide to gather what information they can.” Iryana tried to slow down; she was talking too fast. “They’ve sent word to the King Commander to arrange a larger response. But Redni Castle is far, and that will take time. We haven’t heard anything back from the duchess or the conclave. The last thing we had heard from them was that the conclave would be visiting again after the solstice. It’s likely they will bring whatever response the duchess has with them. Assuming they’re still coming after… the dragon.”

“What’s our plan?” Aunt Emadya asked, fiddling with her shawl in her hands.

“There is no reason to think our mission here has changed,” Iryana answered. “We do what we have to in order to hold this wall.”

“A wall means nothing against a dragon,” Uncle Dinhal pointed out.

Iryana’s heart clenched. She looked to her grandmother, but the First just waited expectantly. This is what Iryana had been preparing for.

“That’s true,” she said to give herself a moment to think. “But… we can build ballistae. We can erect wooden spikes in the open areas to prevent the beast from landing here. There is plenty we can do to defend this wall.

“We’ll comb through all the books and records we have for anything that could help. We’ll share with the other clans and the brigades. The 18th has an engineer, I believe. One of the other clans might as well. Our carpenter is skilled, so is our blacksmith. We’ll draw schematics for defenses and distribute them.”

More ideas were shouted out from the crowd, and Iryana’s panic calmed.

Iryana broke the tasks out for different groups, putting Uncle Dinhal in charge of postponing any work or chores that were unnecessary so they could move quickly. There was a lot to do. They’d need to gather good lumber, go through their stores to see what they had and what they’d need to gather or send for. Iryana would have dozens of missives to write. Her mind was already spinning with what she’d need to tell them.

Her clan looked at her with relief, with dedication in their eyes. They’d all have to adopt the mindset of thinking about only what came next. Taking it one step, one day at a time. That was all they could do.

“You heard your Third,” the First called out. “Now get to work.”

The side hall where the clan children usually took their lessons had been taken over for preparations. Books and papers were scattered over the tables, schematics and maps of the posts with fortifications and response plans tacked to the walls.

Various clan members filtered through the room as they worked on their various assignments, but Uncle Dinhal was there almost constantly. When he wasn’t on watch, he was right beside her. Aunt Emadya, as his older sister, had to force him to take his meals and rest. She understood his desperation, though.

“Thank you,” Iryana said as he handed over an updated response plan for her to review. “Seriously, for everything.” He was the stone wall she could rest against when she grew weary. She only hoped he wasn’t running himself into the ground too hard.

“I wasn’t much help when the dakii first came, I was your age though,” Uncle Dinhal said with a hint of regret. “I was left to protect the younger members of the clan while my family was dying. But this time, it’s my turn to step up for the clan.”

“I couldn’t do this without you.”

“You could, and you will, if it comes to that.” His face was serious.

She wasn’t sure that was true, but she nodded anyway. She couldn’t worry about things that hadn’t happened yet, only do what she could, when she could. One day at a time.

“Third,” Misha greeted as she slipped into the room.

Since the morning after the festival, Misha had been pretending nothing had happened, and Iryana didn’t know what to do but let her. Things were tense between them, but at least Misha wasn’t avoiding her entirely.

Iryana straightened. This wasn’t a social visit if she was calling her Third.

“What is it?”

Misha took a deep breath. “I would like to start taking shifts for the watch.”

“You just turned fourteen,” she argued. Her uncle frowned with disapproval at Misha, clearly agreeing with Iryana.

“I’m a good shot, and we could use more hands.”

Misha’s face was so serious, so earnest that it killed Iryana to deny her. But the thought of Misha beyond the wall, circled by beasts, nearly consumed her with fear.

“I’m sorry, Misha, but no. You’re too young. You’re not ready. I won’t let you risk your life like that.”

“Please, Iryana.” Misha sounded desperate, her hands balled into fists.

“No.”

Misha stormed from the room.