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He pulled at his beard. “Kladara was also complaining about it. Said her magic felt weak.”

Iryana blinked slowly, turning to Limhiz’s staff, hesitantly wrapping her hand around it. She could still sense the magic, but it was weaker now. Sick, almost.

“And yours?” she asked roughly.

“It’s… strange.” Dinhal placed a hand at the base of his ribs. “Like it’s surging. Frenzied.”

Thelbiz seemed to be losing.

She thought of the mark, of all the times the god of air had tried to summon her, but shook her head. It didn’t matter. She couldn’t help. She was useless.

“Keep it to yourself.” It was better if no one saw it coming.

She softened slightly when Pyetar entered.

In his arms was a strange wooden box longer than one of his arms. Iryana frowned at it. He walked over to where Tonhald and Teshya tried to get Anara to nap in their laps, but she wiggled and fussed. Tonhald tensed as Pyetar crouched before them, setting the box down.

Iryana leaned forward to see better.

Pyetar cleared his throat. “I thought you could line it with something soft. And see if your daughter would be happier sleeping in here.”

It was a bed.

“Thank you,” Tonhald said after a long pause. He glanced at Iryana and then back at the general. “You didn’t need to…”

“I wanted to.” Pyetar stood, leaving Iryana’s cousin a little dumbfounded, and headed her way.

Dinhal got up, patting Pyetar’s shoulder as he left. Pyetar lowered himself next to her.

“How on earth did you make that?” Iryana asked quietly, pulling him close for warmth.

Tonhald and Teshya moved the bed to a flatter spot, stuffing the box with furs and the woolen shawl from where they’d tried to get Anara to sleep.

“It’s for you,” Teshya said lightly, showing it to Anara.

The little girl crawled inside, her doll clutched tightly in her hands.

Pyetar leaned close to her ear to whisper, “I made a contest of it for the brigade, to find the best pieces of wood, and haggled with an earth-forged carver to reshape and fit the pieces together.”

“You’re sweet,” Iryana laid her head on his shoulder.

“I’ll help watch out for them, give you time to grieve and come to terms with this.”

There was no coming to terms with it. But she didn’t want to argue, just wanted to be held.

They watched as Anara grew limp, limbs spread out. Her soft snores eventually filled the cavern. Tonhald looked over at Pyetar, genuine gratitude in his eyes.

Eventually, the grief lost to exhaustion, and she slept, Pyetar curled up behind her. A sudden noise jolted her awake. She blinked, blurry eyed and scanned the cavern. Others were stirring too, looking around in confusion. Then she heard the slap of feet against the wet tunnel floors barreling toward them.

Pyetar sat up behind her, hand protectively curled over her hip.

The rage-filled cry, “She’s gone!” proceeded Vaneshta barreling into sight. “He took her!”

Her hair was almost as wild as her eyes, which nearly bugged out of her head.

“Who? What happened?” Pyetar demanded, voice lowering. He leaped up from the boughs, pulling Iryana to her feet.

Her legs trembled, her body stiff from being curled up for too long, but she tried to process what was happening. She couldn’t handle losing anyone else.