“You’re the enforcer,” she accused. A soldier sent by the military gangs to keep those at their border “in line.”
When he was assigned to visit their post, she had seen him pretty frequently for that summer, and then others came instead. She hadn’t seen him again. Was he the one who had met her grandmother a few days ago? The one who had threatened her?
Yes, she decided.
She didn’t remember his name, wasn’t sure if she’d ever learned it, but he was one ofthem. He wasn’t there to help her family. He was there to make sure they paid the protection money his people demanded, to make sure they followed the rules.
This man was worse than the liaison who lived almost full time in the village. Nevesh Dyol didn’t go around selling dangerous “medicine”or roughing up the Kleesolds, though she certainly had no love for him either.
“Ah,” he said, as if settled by her outburst. “I’m still keeping these. Pyetar, by the way.”
She bristled, cheeks reddening as she realized it was thesecondtime she’d mistaken him for a volunteer. The first time she’d seen him must have been two years ago, when he’d arrived the same day she was expecting a new set of volunteers from the duchess’s city. She’d been mostly training with volunteers at the time and hadn’t yet gotten over the loneliness of moving out of the main house. She’d walked right up to him and started talking about training schedules and where to find out his housing assignment and whatever else had poured out of her mouth.
Gods, she winced. She’d flirted with him too, even considering messing around with him in one of the storehouses like she had with a few of the other volunteers.It had been a way to blow off steam and ease the sharper edges of her loneliness. She’d thought him handsome, attractive. The thought made her want to vomit now.
She’d avoided him the rest of that summer once she realized who he actually was. The last time she’d seen him, he was shouting at the First in the market square. Two other soldiers from the brigade were with him. More waiting down in the valley. Pyetar had demanded more of their supplies, more of the harvests that they needed to get through the long, dark winter. Said the brigade was short, and if they didn’t take extra from the posts, they wouldn’t be able to stop the dakii from swarming their homes. The threat of it was clear.
Based on the waves of emotion on his face, she knew he was remembering her mistakes, too.
She could do nothing, not without it causing trouble for her family. But oh, how she wanted to deck him.
The urge kept her standing there before him instead of fleeing like she knew she should. As if the longer she thought about it, the more likely she was to find a way to hurt him without having it thrown back in her family’s face.
It was hard to acknowledge the situation her clan was in, and the brigade was partly to blame for that.
Pyetar started packing up the plants she’d given him, tucking them gently inside his knapsack. Iryana just stared, her mind still spiraling.
For centuries the Kleesolds had been one of the most prominent guardian clans, nobly guarding their city Klees and the surrounding countryside from the invaders that came by sea, sailing up the river to take as many of the forged people of Istri as they could fit in their ships. Everyone in Istri had some amount of magic, so they could be indiscriminate in who they took. Once the dakii came, though, the invaders stayed far away, leaving Istri to suffer. Any ship that ventured too far past their shores was sunk.
Guardians were part of the Ketsan, the class of nobility in Istri, but being a guardian meant far more than just social status. It was the duty of the clans to serve and care for the territory assigned to them, working alongside the local dukes and duchesses of the various dukedoms, but not beholden to them.
The First of a clan only truly answered to the king and queen of Istri. But duty to their clan came before their duty to the royal family. And their duty to the people came before both clan and crown.
The Kleesold clan had done everything they could to protect their people when the dakii came—and when they failed, they saved as many as they could. The Kingdom of Istri had fallen, the royal family and people of the capital city likely slaughtered. Yet her clan still risked their lives every day to help those they could.
The brigades had no such honor.
And yet her family was a shadow of its former glory, having lost so many. So much. She couldn’t deny how far they’d fallen any longer. How closely they dangled on the precipice of destruction.
Her eyes narrowed further.
A distant sound yanked Iryana’s attention from the man. She replayed the sound in her head. The shrill yelp.
Pyetar opened his mouth, but Iryana gestured for him to be quiet. Her whole body tensed, listening.
“That’s just a falcon.”
“There are no falcons here,” she hissed back. “Shut up.”
Iryana closed her eyes to focus, to block out everything else.
The call repeated, a single yelp.
She hadn’t misheard.
Her eyes flew open. The market was near silent, everyone as still as her. The sudden loss of noise was almost deafening. They all knew what the calls were for.
“What does it mean?” Pyetar was tense, looking around at the frozen market.
