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She hadn’t hated being Third this much before. Not when she’d had to keep the gods’ return from them, not when she’d felt the weight of their survival crushing her. The leader of a clan was meant to set a good example and hold their clan to those expectations. She needed to encourage them, but how did she do that without pushing her people away? Without making them hate her. Was it possible to be on their side and still pull them all together?

Iryana wasn’t sure whether she’d ever be able to figure it out.

The First would have been harsh and exacting, demanding perfection, but Iryana couldn’t do that. She didn’t have decades of trust and history as Third like her grandmother did. Iryana was still trying to prove herself to them.

She wished the First was down here so that she could talk sense into everyone. But her grandmother hadn’t been getting up as much lately. She seemed too exhausted from the hike, too susceptible to the cold. It scared Iryana.

Iryana looked around the room again. She noted Kladara glaring at one of the soldiers, the same one she’d been glaring at the day before and noted it as a problem she’d have to deal with later. When she had more energy. But it wasn’t all tension and hatred. Uncle Dinhal was talking with Mezhimar about something, and it seemed friendly enough. Then her eyes found Misha, who was talking with Shahn’s sister. She blinked, not sure why it surprised her so much. They were both around the same age. Maybe there was hope.

“Iri.” A deep, panicked voice pulled her attention.

She turned to find Vabihn shouldering his way through the crowd to grab her arm. “Iri, I need your help.”

Chapter Forty-Three

“What’s wrong?” she demanded, instantly alert.

Vabihn was never panicked, never afraid, but his face was pale, and his eyes were wide now.

“It’s Soyara, she thinks there’s something wrong with the baby,” he said so quickly Iryana almost couldn’t parse the words.

Her stomach clenched, counting back the time in her head. Soyara wasn’t due to deliver for another month, but it had been stressful and traveling for days probably hadn’t been the best for her.

Before Iryana could ask any questions, Vabihn was talking again. “She wants your sister,” he sputtered, “says Hadima has been checking in on her. Our doctor didn’t make it, and she’s demanding I get your sister. I know Hadima is busy, but is there any chance—”

“I’ll get her,” Iryana promised. “Go to your wife. We’ll be right there.”

Vabihn nodded, rushing off while Iryana went to get Hadima. She explained what was going on and followed her sister as she raced to the infirmary they’d set up, grabbing various supplies off the shelves. Iryana’s stomach was in her throat, but she obeyed Hadima’s every order until they were racing up to Vabihn and Soyara’s second-floor room.

In the hallway, Hadima was tense, frantic, but the second that door opened, she schooled herself. Everything about her demeanor, from the look on her face to the way she walked, was calm. Iryana tried to copy her sister as best she could.

“How are you doing, Soyara?” Hadima asked, sitting at the pregnant woman’s side opposite Vabihn.

Lidishta and Pepha stood at the side of the room, staring.

Iryana looked Vabihn’s wife over, noting the rapid way she was breathing, the paleness of her skin, and the way her face kept tensing with pain. She didn’t know anything about pregnancy, about whether any of this was normal. She just knew that they couldn’t let anything else go wrong.

“I keep cramping and I’m having this pain in my side,” Soyara wheezed, squeezing her husband’s hand tightly.

Vabihn was just staring down at his wife, eyes wide, almost seeing through her.

After checking her pulse and ordering Pepha to go get a pot of hot water, Hadima turned to the rest of them, just hovering around the edge of the already small room.

“Give us some privacy so I can examine her,” Hadima ordered, shooing everyone else out of the room. She gave Iryana a pointed look and gestured at Vabihn, who looked like he might collapse or run at any moment.

Out on the balcony of the second floor, Iryana grabbed Vabihn’s arm and pulled him to the side so they could talk privately. He was so out of it he didn’t fight it.

“Hadima will take good care of her,” Iryana assured Vabihn, patting him on the shoulder. “Hadima delivered my cousin’s baby, and a few in the village. If she needs extra hands, she’s not the only forged healer here. This is possibly the best place Soyara could have her baby.”

Vabihn was already shaking his head. “Hadima and Soyi are going to do great, I’m sure. But what about afterward? I’m not a good dad. I’m not a good husband either. I don’t know what I’m doing or how to keep them safe. There’s a godsdamned gods’ war going on. They deserve better than me.”

“That’s not true. You’re softer with them,” Iryana argued. “You love them. And I’ve seen you playing with Galehna. You’re not a bad dad.”

He raised a brow at her, mouth pinched. “I’m not a gentle guy. I’m not nurturing. If you had to hand a kid to someone on our team, I’m the last one you’d choose.”

He wasn’t wrong. “But they’re your kids, Vabihn. Your family.”

“I just feel so helpless.” Vabihn grabbed the balcony’s railing and squeezed so hard his knuckles whitened.