Page 62

“But you need to convince the First.”

Iryana frowned. “It’s your idea, though.”

“Yeah, but Grandmother is too practical. However, if you ask her, she’ll say yes. She’s been giving you more control. Letting you make some decisions.”

She sighed, but Hadima was right. The winter solstice was over a moon away, but she already felt lighter from the idea of celebrating. “I’ll talk to the First in the morning.”

Chapter Twelve

Leaving the post and her clan behind felt far too much like relief for Iryana’s comfort.

Hadima had said it was okay to be scared and unsure, and she tried to remind herself of that. She just couldn’t let them control her, no matter how much it felt like her responsibilities were suffocating her. Yet the farther their sled took them from home, the more that weight lifted.

When their dog team finally pulled them through the gate and into the courtyard of the Cavta Post, Iryana felt her jaw drop.

“In the name of the fucking gods,” Uncle Dinhal cursed under his breath.

Iryana’s eyes were round as a full moon as she took it all in.

This wasn’t some ramshackle village teetering on the edge of survival. This was a fortress. A castle. How much of the border was defended by places like this? If the fort could defend against the dakii, surely this place was impenetrable, perched on the edge of a cliff and overlooking the valley floor in the distance.

The walls were thrice her height and made of the same dark gray stone as the various buildings, likely mined from the mountain itself. She had little doubt that it was all earth-imbued, crafted far before the beasts came. Perhaps a hundred years before.

Why was there a place like this so far into the mountains? How had the Vyukovold Clan gotten stationed in a place like this, and her clan in an abandoned village?

Even the courtyard was huge, dotted with a number of wood and stone buildings, multiple stables, and a few smaller walled off areas to the side. It seemed like the type of place that was probably paved with stone beneath all the snow.

“Whoa,” Uncle Dinhal ordered, signaling to the dogs to stop. They pranced excitedly, likely sensing they’d arrived.

With her uncle helping her, they managed to push the piles of furs and blankets aside so that Iryana could climb out. She groaned as she stretched.

Despite occasional stops to let the dogs rest and to camp for the night, Iryana’s entire body was stiff. It had taken two days for them to reach the Cavta Post, navigating through the mountainous valleys behind their border. Uncle Dinhal had driven the sled the whole time, standing on the rear runners to brake and add drag as needed, leaving Iryana to sit on the sled with their supplies.

“Did you know it was like this?” she asked.

Uncle Dinhal just shook his head, mouth still parted in shock. “It better be shit inside.”

She laughed, unable to help the twinge of envy, though there was little point in being jealous.

A boy, wrapped in a fine jacket with decorative stitching, slipped out of one of the buildings and headed their way. He looked too young to be forged, but old enough to have taken his oaths. Iryana straightened as he stopped a few paces before her.

“I’m Paskar Vyukovold.” The teen introduced himself, bowing formally. “Eventual Third of my clan.”

She had to hide her surprise. It wasn’t unusual for clan heirs to be selected early, and not entirely uncommon to know what they were being trained for. But to share that with outsiders? She found it strange.

Iryana returned the bow. “Iryana Kleesolda, Third of my clan.” Then she gestured back to her uncle. “This is Dinhal Kleesold, a metal-forged warrior of my clan.”

He was regal-looking and slender, with a strong nose and blond hair tied back into a bun. Iryana thought he looked more ketsan than guardian, but she chastised herself for being judgmental.

Paskar smiled at her, a surprisingly kind look. “We’re honored to host your clan and this meeting.”

She returned the smile as best she could, not letting her nerves show.

“We cleared out one of the side yards for your team; there’s a lean-to, it’s all stocked, and they should be perfectly comfortable.” Paskar pointed to a small open gate with a snowy yard beyond.

Uncle Dinhal looked to her and she nodded. Iryana hung back as he led the team there, where he’d be able to unhook the dogs from the gangline and let them run wild in the yard. It was a far better setup than they could have offered at the Dovaki Post.

“I can take you inside to meet the others, unless you want to wait for your clan member?”