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He held it out to Iryana who pulled away from Hadima and Pyetar to wrap her hand around it. It felt strange in her grip. She could sense the magic in it, just like she had sensed the well magic during her forgings.

“It should activate quickly if you pull on its magic,” Limhiz explained. “Try it.”

Iryana focused on the staff, on the magic she sensed there. It took a few tries, but she managed to give it a tug. She nearly fell over as the ground grew unnaturally still. She had grown so used to the quaking ground she hadn’t even noticed it had been trembling.

“Damn,” Vabihn drawled behind them, followed by a smacking sound as someone must have tried to silence him.

“Thank you,” Iryana said, still staring at the staff. “Will it go away?”

“It will hold through the war. I won’t call the magic back until this is all over. Once activated, it will hold indefinitely, unless you pull the magic to stop it.”

She nodded, then turned toward her team. The urge to throw herself into their arms was strong, but she knew the gods were busy and the sooner they left, the better.

“We’ll figure out your magic,” Hadima promised, squeezing Iryana’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, okay?”

Pyetar nodded, but he looked more worried than her sister.

“One thing at a time,” Iryana told them, pushing her own problems to the side. “Let’s go win over the brigade.”

She released the staff’s magic and the ground immediately began shaking again.

When they walked through Myura River Fort’s gate, Iryana could tell there was something wrong.

At first glance, things were normal. But there were fewer soldiers on duty than she expected, and those they passed seemed to avoid their gazes, hurrying off to complete whatever tasks they were assigned to. And the air… it was tense. Waiting.

Major Tenar was waiting for them on the steps of the estate, a fur-lined cloak and wool hat warding off the chill.

“What happened?” Pyetar demanded.

The major grimaced. “After you left, there was a bit of a scuffle about the retreat and the alliance. We put a stop to it. But a few dozen soldiers have deserted. They’ve left the fort.”

“Deserted? To go where?” Iryana asked, mostly to herself. It didn’t make sense. Did they really hate the thought of working with her clan that much? Losing that many would be difficult for the 18th to handle.

Pyetar was stiff, contemplating. “When did—”

“How did you let this happen!” Vaneshta growled, stalking toward the major. Lidishta clung to her arm, not quite holding her back.

“Mind your rank, Captain.” Tenar’s words were calm, but he took a step back at her approach.

“How about you mind yours and do your gods fucking job!”

“Captain!” Pyetar snapped. “Enough.”

Vaneshta froze, her whole body tensing.

“I’m sure the major did everything he could,” Pyetar said.

Vaneshta scoffed, shrugged off Lidishta’s arm, and stormed toward the barracks.

“We meet in the hall in an hour!” Pyetar called after her, a deep frown on his face, but then he pulled the major to the side.

Iryana took Hadima’s hand and left them to their heated discussion, the rest of the group dissipating too. She couldn’t imagine what Pyetar was feeling. If there was anything to do about those who had left. But it wasn’t her place.

Iryana stood beside Hadima at the head of the great hall in the fort. Pyetar was before them, facing the 18th brigade.

They stood at attention, some armored and some in casual clothing, filling the room. Their nervous eyes danced around the room where the wooden roof high above them creaked, and the chandeliers swayed. The ranks were visibly lighter.

She stood stiffly, Limhiz’s staff held behind her body where no one would see it. She had quickly changed into clean clothing, but she had put her guardian armor back on. It was still stained with black and red blood; slashes cut across it.