“It won’t be enough.” Vesima sighed and sank down onto the bench.
Iryana gaped at her grandmother, disbelief loosening her tongue. “What do you mean it’s not enough? I know where the well is; future Kleesolds can be metal-forged. It might take a few years, but we will be back to our old strength again.”
“It’s too late.”
Too late? How could it be too late? There was still time left before the family had to leave the post.
Iryana’s voice was weak when she said, “I don’t understand.”
A soft hand squeezed her shoulder, and Iryana looked back toward Hadima. Her heart sped up at the anguish there.
“The Kleesold Guardians have no heirs; the Second is gone.” Hadima’s voice was heavy.
The mourning bouquets were for the Second?
“What happened to Gornhal?” He was Vesima’s nephew, barely middle-aged. He hadn’t been the largest of the Kleesold men, but he was tough and scrappy. She had heard countless stories of the scrapes he had gotten himself out of.
“Dakii, what else?”
Her eyes found the Second’s son, Velimik, sitting near the side of the room, curled up and staring blankly at them. Her heart ached for him. But then the reality of what it meant for the clan hit her.
Iryana’s head was spinning. A guardian family had to have an heir; their entire future was based upon it. Surely this couldn’t change things that much, though? There were rules, but—
“Who cares who the heir is? We just need to pick someone and worry about taking control of the valley back!” Kladara threw her arms out wildly, her voice sounding hoarse and overused.
Part of her was glad that the cousins were fighting back now, no longer resigned to the clan’s downfall, but the rest of her was spinning.
“There are no options that follow the accords, dear.” Aunt Emadya reached down to pat her daughter, but Kladara spun out of the way.
“But surely now we can—” Hadima started but was immediately cut off by Kladara, who was even louder now.
“I know the rules,Mother. But it would be stupid to hold to the same rules we did before the dakii,” Kladara snapped angrily. It didn’t seem to be the first time they had that same fight.
“It’s our tradition,” Levek interjected stiffly. “Our legacy. We aren’t a guardian family without it.” His brows raised as if daring his older sister to argue with him.
Tonhald handed the baby to his wife and walked toward his siblings, hands raised. “This isn’t the time to fight; we will figure something out. Together. Bynotfighting.”
“Like it will matter either way.” Edvar shrugged his thin shoulders, his face slack and eyes glassy. Was he drunk so early in the day?
Iryana took a step away from their argument, trying to sort her thoughts enough to see a way out of this.
“We’ll figure something out, right?” Misha asked softly, now clinging to Hadima’s arm.
Hadima tucked a few loose strands of hair behind Misha’s ear, wearing a tight smile. “Of course we will; we always do.”
Iryana could barely hear them over all the arguments going on around the room.
“Enough!” Aunt Emadya and the First yelled at the same time.
Kladara glared at her mother, but the younger two hung their heads and shut their mouths. Tonhald and Hadima just looked relieved the fighting had stopped.
The room was silent for a moment, and Iryana hoped they could figure out a plan now. It couldn’t be too late, not after everything they had gone through. After everythingshehad gone through.
And then the cry of a newborn pierced through the air.
“I’m so sorry,” Teshya gasped as she started bouncing and shushing at Anara. Tonhald hurried back toward them.
“Now look what you’ve done,” Edvar snapped at Kladara, who puffed up her cheeks, rearing back to begin the fighting anew.
