Page 70

“You mentioned things changing in the forests.” Sorahn quirked a brow at her. “I was hoping you would elaborate.” Sorahn hesitated, then added, “I didn’t want to bring it up in the meeting, Tagahn wouldn’t understand. His clan doesn’t venture into their valley enough.”

Chapter Fourteen

For Sorahn to be asking what they’d seen… she could only assume it meant he had been noticing strange things around his post as well.

Iryana turned to face him. “Over the summer we started noticing new behaviors from the dakii. They’re showing more strategy and self-preservation, less wildness. We’ve had encounters where they don’t even attack, just continue on their way. But we’ve also run into dakii that seem… almost rabid. Even more wild than before. And then there’s beasts out on their own that are younger than I’ve ever seen. Barely horned at all. And on top of that, more poppy fields have been cropping up and we’ve even heard a rumor that a well was running out of magic.”

Sorahn blinked at her, and then a glaze of emotion crept over his face. Concern.

“We’ve observed similar changes in dakii behavior around us. Far greater numbers too, preventing us from venturing beyond our walls.” Sorahn sighed, worrying his jaw before adding, “We’ve had many beasts that seem rabid, as you said. I’ve worried that something about the magic around us has been making the beasts sick.”

They exchanged a long look, that of two heirs who didn’t know what kind of threat their people had to look forward to. Who didn’t know how they’d be able to protect their people.

Iryana shared some of the theories she’d discussed with Keeper Tomislov and Pyetar. Sorahn listened to each one and carefully mulled it over before adding his own opinions.

“I can’t decide if it’s comforting or worrying that it’s not just our area having these troubles,” Iryana admitted.

“Worrying, I’d say.” It meant that abandoning or moving a post wouldn’t be a viable backup plan. There would be no falling back.

He’d been open enough with her, so Iryana let herself ask, “If you don’t mind my prying, you can’t be old enough to have been forged before the dakii came. Are you metal-forged?” He seemed to be around thirty.

“I was forged during the brigade wars, while they were too busy fighting each other for territory and wells to notice a small party sneaking through. The well my family frequented isn’t too far beyond the border, and my father managed to get me there to be forged. It’s too well guarded now, unfortunately. Although perhaps with these talks we’ll have access again, have hope of naming a Third.” He almost sounded amused. “When the clans made the rule that heirs must be metal-forged hundreds of years ago, they clearly didn’t foresee what would become of Istri.”

She nodded. “I’ve wondered how the other clans worked their way around it.”

“An heir must be metal-forged,” he repeated with a sigh, as if the words were ones he’d heard and said hundreds of times in his life. Iryana certainly had.

When the first guardian clans were formed back in the early days of raiders, they were all required to be metal-forged, not just the leaders. The magic of Noshtiz was the best way to fight off those sailing up their rivers to kidnap Istrins for their magic. The clans didn’t have to answer to anyone but the king and queen themselves. They put the people’s needs first. This meant there were rules they had to abide by, one being the need to be metal-forged.

Eventually, the clans were allowed members that were not metal-forged for self-sufficiency, but the clans could still never be led by someone forged in anything other than metal. Not only was this legally binding and could result in the entire clan being dismantled by the crown, but it became ingrained in their tradition and legacy.

“The clans will fall apart without access to metal wells.” Iryana clenched her hands in discomfort. “If I hadn’t managed it… our clan would be gone. We lost our Second, and we’re decades from the possibility of a Fourth. My grandmother is old for a clan First.”

“There have never been more pressures on clan heirs.” Sorahn examined her carefully. “I can only imagine the difficulty at your age. I’ve been Second for six years, and our First could live for decades longer. To be in your position…”

Iryana laughed, a strangled sound coming out.

“Please don’t take offense.”

“Of course not.” She wiped at her cheek, glad to find it dry. “How long did it take before you felt… worthy of it?”

Sorahn shook his head. “How can we ever be worthy? Clan legacy is that of selfless protection and sacrifice. Of being heroes who never break. But we’re mere humans. Beings of weakness and fault. We can’t be worthy of something like that; we can only embrace our duty. Spend our whole lives looking at each decision before us and choosing that which serves our duty better.”

“I can’t decide if that’s a relief or extremely worrisome.”

He smiled, a true softness wiping out his serious expression. “You’ll make your peace with it eventually—I have.”

“Thank you.” She meant it. Hearing that she wasn’t alone in her struggles, that she wasn’t supposed to feel like she was enough to be clan heir, was a soothing balm to the sharpest of her worries.

A gust of biting cold tore over the balcony, and they both turned away from it, Sorahn tucking himself even deeper into his furs and wool.

She was about to suggest they return inside, worried for him, when his gaze latched sharply onto her.

“I’ve decided that you have my support here, Iryana, Third of the Kleesold Guardians. I’ve seen here and at that table that you have our best interests in mind, and that you have a guardian’s heart. My clan will back this agreement. And with that, I have an idea for you, to sway the Vyukovolds.”

Iryana’s brow furrowed. “I’m listening.”

Sorahn leaned forward and began to speak.