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The duchess was coming to the border.

The duchess didn’t arrive until the fourth day of the Bitter Moon, leaving Iryana stewing for three days. She knew the brigades and settlements beyond their border were probably dealing with repeated attacks, and yet Iryana had sat around for days. But finally—finally—they all gathered in the great meeting room to discuss an evacuation.

Duchess Zrinski sat at the head of the table, Tagahn, the Vyukovold First, to her right followed by his heirs, with Iryana and her grandmother to the duchess’s left. The Omisold second was farther down the table. Iryana couldn’t help watching him closely for a few moments, trying to imagine what had driven her older sister to have a fling with someone from a different clan. He was handsome enough and seemed helpful. But Iryana had to turn her attention back to the meeting before she could ruminate on it too much.

They all wore their formal clan attire, though the duchess was clothed informally herself, a simple dress and trousers with bright golden embroidery, just like the last time Iryana had met the woman.

She had expected the duchess to send representatives when she’d sent the missive, not come herself, but what she’d heard of the woman was that she liked to do things herself, get her hands dirty, which was somewhat unusual for the ketsan. That was part of the reason she had managed to rally so many together to form their settlement.

“Thank you for coming, Your Grace,” Iryana inclined her head respectfully toward the duchess.

“With the earthquakes and dragons flying the skies, the people of Lake Vrasho and the Sky Valley are in a panic. Your borders are going to be the critical point to keep them safe.” The woman passed a grave look over them all, tension lining her face. “It would have been best if Thelbiz accepted our offer to come to Lake Vrasho, but of course we can’t control the gods. Gyena Iryana, he sent his messages through you, so let us see this mark.”

Iryana swallowed nervously but nodded. The other clan leaders had already seen it, but everyone at the table stared as Iryana pulled the shoulder of her dress aside to reveal the golden mark. Disappointment flashed across the duchess’s face, like perhaps there was a part of her that had hoped it wasn’t real. That if the mark was a lie, perhaps the rest of it was too.

“Fill me in,” the duchess ordered, settling back into her seat.

Iryana covered the mark and reminded herself to let go of her frustration and anxiety so she could approach this conversation with a calm, rational mind. She repeated everything, almost all of which had already been conveyed in the missives she had sent. Then she detailed the attack on the fort and the other reports they’d received.

“And you’re sure that Thelbiz truly meant to have everyone evacuate from our hinterlands?” the duchess asked, furrowing her dark brows.

“Yes, he said any who remain would likely be lost,” Iryana assured her.

“But he didn’t specify the full extent—how far out to evacuate? Exactly where he thinks this battle between the gods will occur?”

Iryana shook her head. “I don’t think they know exactly where Noshtiz is aiming, but it sounded like it could be anywhere in the valley, so I assume he meant those that I have already been in contact with and everyone in their territories.”

“I would have liked to question him myself. You didn’t think to have Thelbiz come to this meeting?” the duchess asked sharply.

Iryana swallowed to keep from scowling. “Thelbiz is a god, Your Grace. He isn’t at my beck and call. I don’t have a way to summon him.”

“Well, it’s still unfortunate.” The duchess looked around the table. “If you are wrong or misunderstood him in some way, we will make ourselves vulnerable needlessly.”

“I’ve fought the metal-badgers Noshtiz created. Neither the metal-forged nor the air-forged have much of an advantage over them. They’re much larger than the dakii and they’re terrifying.” She tried to keep her voice from shaking with her frustration. “I have also fought a dragon, Your Grace. I cannot express to you how much of a threat it is.”

“We’ve seen them as well,” Sorahn, Second of the Omisolds, added. “They are… horrifying.”

“I have started pulling people back from the Sky Valley villages into the mountains, but it’s a slow process this time of year. There are only so many sleds and teams, and the farming villages do not have fire-imbued gear to allow them to make the trek on foot. I’m not sure they will all be able to make it to Lake Vrasho before this battle is to happen. We need the border held as long as possible.”

“Will you accept refugees who can make it there?” Iryana’s First asked.

The duchess hesitated. “We will accept those from the other settlements and any of the unforged and non-combatants from your clan who can make it.”

“And the soldiers?” the First asked, Iryana tense with anticipation at her side.

“If these dakii are as drawn to metal magic as you say, it’s in our best interest to keep them as far from us as possible. Our border is already largely held by metal-forged. They’re also our first line of defense. To lose them would be to put even more risk on your posts.”

It took a moment for the duchess’s words to sink in.

“You mean to leave them out there?” Iryana demanded, horrified.

“I have to worry about my people, and the soldiers can do more good for us out there, fighting off what they can and keeping as many of the monsters away from our border as possible,” the duchess said firmly.

Her grandmother had warned her that the duchess might go this way, but Iryana hadn’t truly believed it.

“And what of sending more support, more supplies, to help us hold the border?” she demanded, trying to keep her anger in check.

“There are perhaps a few we can spare, but trying to evacuate the Sky Valley is taking every resource we have. I know it would help you all hold out, but we are all pressed thin.”