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She moved just ahead of Pyetar to address the soldier. “Gyen Edvar and Gyen Levek have been training to fight and kill dakii since they could walk. And both my cousins are familiar with your formations.”

“Satisfied?” Pyetar asked, though it was more of a command than a question.

“Uh, yes, General.” But the soldier hesitated.

“Back in formation,” Pyetar growled. With the soldier finally gone, Pyetar relaxed. A wave of exhaustion passed over his face.

She wanted to comfort him. She knew how much keeping up the front of a strict general bothered him, but she couldn’t with all the eyes on them. Instead, she settled for “it will get easier.”

“I hope so. Sorry for the interruption,” Pyetar sighed. “Please continue.”

Right. The meeting with the conclave.

“They advised me to not use my forgings unless I have to,” she admitted. “Said that it might get more difficult each time I do.” She couldn’t bring herself to admit it might eventually kill her.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t have come then,” he said mournfully, as if it pained him to suggest. “Would staying behind your wall until they figure out how to help you be safer?”

She bristled. “You know better than to think I could do that.”

Pyetar sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

“I’ve used them a lot since my second forging, and it hasn’t gotten much worse.” She tried to sound positive. “And the conclave seemed very motivated, so I doubt it will be long before they figure it out.”

She could feel his eyes on her, so tender and worried. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I’ll take care of myself, Pyetar.” She smiled at him. “I won’t use my forgings more than I have to.”

He frowned at her.

“What?”

Pyetar sighed. “It’s stupid.”

“Tell me,” she ordered.

He was quiet for a moment before finally saying, “I wish I could take care of you more. I know I’m stuck with the 18th for now, and that there isn’t a place for me at your post. Even if I was around constantly, you still wouldn’t let me take care of you, anyway.”

What was she supposed to say to that?

She was so used to being on her own, to only having herself to rely on. And even now that she was back with her clan, she still felt like everything was on her shoulders as heir. Like she couldn’t show weakness or ask for help. But the thought of having a partner through it all, someone to yield the reins to when she grew too tired or needed a break, was so lovely she had to push it from her mind. Perhaps one day, but it would only make her miserable to focus on it.

“While it’s just you and me,” she whispered, trying not to find her words embarrassing, “I’ll try to, uh… let you take care of me more.”

He grinned at her; the smile sent a flutter through her stomach.

“I will hold you to that,” he said seriously.

Iryana wished there weren’t a dozen people marching behind them.

Her thoughts turned to Pyetar’s brother. To the ways that Pyetar had tried to protect her from him. To the lingering topic they hadn’t broached since his death. She wondered if it was the right time to bring it up, but the butterflies that erupted in her stomach made her quickly dismiss it.

Then she heard Edvar’s unmistakable voice call out, “Say that to my face!”

Iryana spun around, and the soldiers who marched behind her jumped back at her sudden approach. She tore right through them until she was standing before her cousin and the soldier he was staring down.

“Is there a problem here?”

“They said you—” Edvar started through gritted teeth.