Iryana sank down lower in her seat, her ribs compressing with each half-understood conversation that passed around her. She didn’t know which boy Kladara alluded Sanora had a crush on. Edvar and Levek were upset about something that had happened yesterday, and everyone else seemed to know what. Tonhald wanted to know if someone would switch shifts with him that evening since baby Anara was teething badly.
“Are there really so many more dakii out there?” Misha asked between bites.
No one answered as Iryana continued stirring her soup awkwardly.
“Iryana?” Hadima asked.
She jerked slightly. “What?”
Misha rolled her eyes at her. “I asked you if there really are more dakii. Grandmother said so, but you have been out there, right?”
“Oh. Well, yeah. Even in the time I have been staying out there, it’s getting worse.”
The table quieted down, the cousins all watching Iryana with interest.
“Are the soldiers better at killing them than we are?” Misha’s earthy-green eyes squinted with intensity.
“Maybe we shouldn’t have this conversation during dinner,” Hadima said carefully, but Misha ignored her.
“I mean, they just live out there, right?”
Iryana swallowed. The entire table was staring at her now.
“This post is out of sight,” Iryana started, words stilted under her discomfort. “So we normally escape notice. Those that find us, we kill.”
Iryana shrugged, trying to put her words together under her sister’s expectant stare. “The brigades don’t hide; the dakii all know where they are. But the dakii can’t attack directly, or at least they don’t try it often, but soldiers spend a lot of time outside the walls. The dakii can come at you from any direction, in packs that rival what we see here in the valley.”
“So theyarebetter at killing them. How many haveyoukilled?”
“Misha!” Hadima chastised.
“What?” Misha rolled her eyes again, the epitome of dramatic youth. “I bet she’s killed a lot.”
Those eyes all turned back to her.
“Uh, I don’t—a few dozen, maybe?” She had hardly been keeping count.
Edvar scoffed, pushing the blond waves across his forehead. “There’s no way.”
“Why not?” Levek snapped, their tension from earlier rising back to the surface. “She’smetal-forged, so sheshouldbe better at killing them than us.”
“The stronger Iryana is, the stronger we all are. We’re one clan,” Tonhald added peacefully, nodding toward Iryana with a smile.
“And remember who her father was,” Uncle Dinhal added, smacking a meaty fist against his chest.
Iryana lost the ability to breathe entirely.
“We wouldn’t be about to lose the post if we still had Josik with us,” Uncle Byorsh grumbled.
A chorus of agreement sounded. Iryana clutched the edges of her seat, gripping tightly.
“It’s like during the war again, when we never knew how long we’d be safe. Where we’d be holed up next, always on our toes.” Uncle Dinhal looked around the room, as if to see if they remembered. “That was a time of true heroes. Seeing what you were worth.”
“Not all of us had the chance,” grumbled Edvar, who was barely eight when the dakii came. His sharp features were pulled tight with resentment.
Uncle Byorsh and Dinhal didn’t hear Edvar, or were too caught up in their glory days, diving into stories from the war.
“I never thought I would hear someone talk about those years with fondness!” Aunt Emadya chastised them, but it was lighthearted.
