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“He’ll want to settle them in,” she explained, gesturing for Paskar to lead the way.

She couldn’t help tipping her head back to stare up at the three to four stories of stone, the towers rising from the corners of the castle walls. It was as grand as her memories of Klees, although she couldn’t be sure how true that comparison was. Things tended to look different to a child’s mind.

The future Third led her into the grand foyer of one of the two larger stone buildings.

The inside was not shit. Her uncle would be disappointed.

It reminded her of the manor at Myura River Fortress, the way everything from before had been mostly left in place. Great rugs covered the stone flooring; tapestries and wall coverings insulated the stone walls. She could imagine the Queen of Istri living in a place like this.

It was still freezing, like they didn’t bother trying to heat this part of the building, but when Iryana followed Paskar into a side wing, that changed. As soon as they pushed through those thick, intricately carved wooden doors, Iryana felt the warmth.

They were in some form of receiving hall, little in the room but a few seats and a fireplace. The warmth felt glorious, though, after days of traveling through the snowy valleys. Iryana started pulling off her layers. The jacket, hat, and gloves all dropped to the bench beside her.

“I can have someone bring your winter gear to your chambers, if you wouldn’t mind,” Paskar offered.

She eyed him. He was standing with perfect posture, arms folded regally behind his back. Far too formal for her preference. Also, had he said she would have chambers? It was just all too unsettling.

“Sure,” she agreed awkwardly, though she hated to be parted from the fire-forged gear that Teshya had made for her.

Once a younger clan member had slipped into the room to take her bundle of gear, Iryana followed Paskar into another room, this one a fine sitting parlor with papered walls, embroidered cushions, and decorative stone fireplaces.

There were two people in the room: a middle-aged gentleman a bit older than her Uncle Byorsh, and a woman perhaps her Uncle Dinhal’s age. The First and Second, she assumed.

“Iryana, Third of the Kleesold Clan,” Paskar introduced before moving to stand behind the woman’s chair.

Iryana could see the family resemblance. They were all blond, waiflike, and regal. They didn’t look like warriors, they looked like ketsan nobility.

“Thank you, Pasko,” the woman said, gracefully rising from her perch on the edge of a couch. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Iryana. I am Second of this clan, Ferihna Vyukovolda. Paskar is my nephew, and this is Tagahn, our First and my father.”

Ferihna was dressed in sky blue with her braided hair on top of her head like a bird’s nest made of straw. Unlike the other two, she looked exhausted. She turned her attention to the First, who nodded formally at her, face a calm mask of indifference.

Iryana felt far more uncomfortable than she expected, more like she was playing a part than when she’d first entered the fort to pretend to join them. She hadn’t expected it. But there would be time to worry about her discomfort later, so she batted those feelings aside.

“It’s a pleasure to meet your clan.” Iryana fumbled around for the right formalities. “Our First and Second always spoke highly of the Vyukov clan.”

In truth, this clan had always been relatively closed off, despite being their closest neighbor.

“Condolences on the death of your Second,” the First said, though his stoic expression didn’t shift. “Gornhal was a good man; we enjoyed the few times he visited. Although it had been years.”

Her heart panged. “Thank you. And I also want to thank you for hosting this meeting, the clan representatives, and the brigade representatives.”

“It felt only right that we do so.” The First spoke calmly, but there was an undercurrent of distaste. “As my wife is the duchess’s cousin, we have a responsibility to further the settlement’s interests.”

Irritation clenched Iryana’s jaw. She wanted to say they all had a responsibility and duty, that they’d been protecting the settlement for over a decade. But that wouldn’t serve her interests, so Iryana held her tongue.

“We’re all holding the border together, and the Kleesold clan is honored by your friendship.” Iryana bent her head slightly with respect. “If there is anything I or my uncle can help with while we are your guests, please let me know. We’d be happy to take a shift on watch or a patrol—however you organize things.”

It would be helpful, she thought, to be able to talk to some of the other guardians. Maybe get a feel for how to best handle their clan leadership, understand their motivations and how to sway them to her cause.

“There’s no need,” the First said, with the Second adding quickly, “The snow and ice make it impossible to climb the cliff up from the Neryet Valley. We don’t have to worry about the dakii in the winter.”

“Oh,” she said, sounding strangled. She had to swallow a couple of times to free her voice. “How fortunate. Are summers quite difficult then?”

The Second rocked her head from side to side. “We have to keep a close eye to be sure there are no dakii climbing the cliff, but thankfully it only happens a few times a year. And we can usually knock them off by dropping large rocks.”

Iryana swallowed again. The wall at her post was really only capable of slowing the dakii down; it wasn’t something they could hide behind for more than a short time.

Gods, how many of her clan would have survived if they could have hidden behind a great stone wall and a barely passable cliff.