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“Hopefully my First has already heard back from the other clans that they’ve agreed to meet.” She needed this summit.

“My major should have already sent out the missives to the other brigades. I will keep you informed.”

She nodded, looking for something else to say, something to prolong the inevitable.

Pyetar grabbed the fur-lined cap on his head, adjusting the way it sat. “Do you really think everyone will be willing to work together?”

“We’re all struggling. The dakii are less predictable now and strange things are happening. We need to work together.”

“I know that, but will they see it the same way?”

Iryana could only shrug. “We will have to convince them.”

Pyetar’s hand flexed, jumping forward just a bit before he held himself back. “You’re welcome to deliver the news yourself when you hear from the clans.”

She hoped she could, but after being away for weeks, there would likely be too much to do. Still, she answered, “I’ll see what I can do.”

Those gentle blue eyes met hers, and for one moment, she could see how much he cared for her. How much he wanted to wrap her in his arms and not let go. And then he straightened and nodded.

She smiled weakly. “Goodbye, Pyetar.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

Iryana turned to join her cousins and the other newly forged.

“Let’s go home,” she told them, leading the way as they quietly cheered.

Chapter Eleven

Back at the Dovaki Post, Iryana headed straight for her grandmother’s study. She’d only had time to drop off her bags, hadn’t even gotten a glimpse of her sisters yet. The others were probably out in the courtyard now, showing off their forgings.

She found her grandmother, wrapped in a wool shawl covered in stitched flowers, behind her desk.

“How did it go?” her grandmother, Vesima, asked with one brow raised in challenge. “Did everyone get along?”

“It… could have gone better,” Iryana admitted.

“Are you surprised?” The First’s voice was sharp.

She sighed. “Perhaps not, but I had hoped for better.”

“We may have similar goals but the clans and the military have always been different. Our rules, our priorities, and the type of people that thrive in them… all different.” Vesima scratched her signature onto a series of reports for the duchess. “Those differences are more pronounced now than they were a few decades ago. Karvek may be gone, which certainly helps, but the military is nothing like it once was.”

Iryana opened her mouth to argue, but the First waved a hand to stop her.

“It is time to move past it,” the First admitted. “I don’t blame anyone for not being ready. Perhaps you setting an example will help, but we can worry about that when the snow melts. Winter is upon us and we need to focus on that.”

It was snowing steadily and the small valley would soon be blanketed in enough snow to require snowshoes. The creek was already freezing over. The milk cows and their calves would soon be brought into the barns and sheds for the winter, and the post’s flock of Istrin sheep to their winter pastures.

There was still much to do.

“There are a few other things…” Iryana trailed off, nervous to share what she’d learned with Pyetar. “The Keeper of the temple where we stayed received word that there is a well rumored to have lost its magic.”

“That’s impossible,” the First cut in.

“He is trying to find the source of the rumor, see if there is any merit to it. But who knows how long it will take to hear something.”

The First leaned back in her chair, slowly running her hands down her thin silver braid. Her eyes were far away.