“Shouldn’t you know? Don’t we pay you to protect us?” she seethed quietly.
“Do you know how many posts and villages border our territory? I can’t be expected to memorize all your signals.” His voice was gruff, impatient.
“A signal from the watchtower,” she answered in a hushed voice, hoping an answer would keep him quiet. “One call means dakii were sighted nearby, and they are monitoring to determine if a confrontation is needed.”
If it were only a lone dakya or a small group of dakii, they wouldn’t have bothered with the signal. That could be handled.
Iryana had snuck looks at the full watch rotations when she got her assignments, and she knew the guard was lighter than it should be. Still, with the current injuries, recent losses, and lack of willing reinforcements from the settlement, it was the best they could do.
They could fall so quickly.
Iryana listened carefully, eyes still screwed shut as she hoped there would be no more calls, but unable to keep herself from imagining what could happen if there were.
With a grunt, Iryana rubbed her fist against her eyes to banish the images of her remaining family members’ deaths flashing before them. Uncle Dinhal ripped from hip to shoulder by night-black claws, falling to his knees with a soft grunt. Her cousins shaking in fear as they tried to hold the dakii back until they were tackled to the ground. Hadima thrown into the side of the house, away from their little sister she’d been protecting, her body crumpling like a rag doll. Tonhald distracting the dakii so his wife and baby daughter could sneak away, his body torn open while he screamed.
Gods, why did her imagination torture her so?
Let it just be one call, she begged. If the threat increased, there would be more than one call in quick succession.
“What are you waiting for?”
She’d forgotten he was there.
“To see if the call changes.”
“What would that mean?”
She turned a glare at him, the light burning her opening eyes. Couldn’t he tell she was close to losing it? Drowning in dread? No, even if he could, he wouldn’t care. He was from the brigade that wassupposedto keep the dakii from getting this far into their valley in the first place. He had threatened them with letting the dakii overtake them, and he had no qualms about watching them all die.
“Guardian,” he snapped, authority hardening his voice. “What would different calls mean?”
Her body jolted. She wasn’t sure how he even knew she was a guardian without her armor on. She didn’t have the mind to ask.
Iryana tensed her jaw. “Two calls in succession would mean they are going to engage and need help, backup. Three calls in succession means abandon the post.”
Pyetar’s face was serious as he looked toward the wall, as if inspecting it.
“How many are on duty already?”
She wanted to strangle him for his stupid questions. “Five.”
“How many can they take?”
“Two. Maybe.”
Pyetar frowned. “How many of those are metal-forged?”
“One.”
“How many could answer a call for help?”
“Why the fuck do you care?” she snapped, not wanting to think about it.
“It’s my duty to help protect your post from the dakii.”
Iryana nearly spat at his feet. The noble claim was laughable. Her family were the ones protecting the innocent, training their whole lives to risk everything. The 18th Brigade, the military brigade Pyetar belonged to, was little more than a bunch of thugs. The rest of her family had more honor in the tips of their fingers than this man did in his whole body.
“How many would answer?” he growled.
