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“Your people are the Dovaki Post, not the brigades,” the duchess argued again, face tense and red.

“And yet my granddaughter, my heir, was a soldier. The soldiers are her people too, and she means to protect them. So don’t call her behavior inappropriate.” Her burning, aged eyes narrowed on the Vyukovold First. “What doesn’t befit a guardian is cowardice.”

Those words were far more cutting coming from the First than Iryana. Tagahn sputtered, face nearly turning purple. Sorahn looked like he was trying to hide a smile. The duchess appeared livid.

“As I can’t order you,” the duchess bit out, “I will only beseech you. Hold the border as long as you can.”

“Of course,” the First said, sounding charming and agreeable now.

“This gods’ war should peak in a little over a month,” Iryana reminded them all once things calmed down. “With how things are escalating, we may only have weeks to get as many to safety as we can. We’ll send our young and non-combatants to Lake Vrasho, along with refugees from the closer settlements. But those farther out, those in the most danger, might take too long to reach the border for us to send them to Lake Vrasho.”

“The River Brigades have already started pulling their people back to their main stronghold,” Sorahn announced. “It will be tight to get them out of there in time, but they know their fortress won’t hold.”

“The sooner they can get out, the better,” Iryana agreed. “The 18th’s territory has many settlements, but I’m most worried about the treehouse villages. Some of them are quite far, and they have few defenses. Making it to the Dovaki Post safely might be impossible without help.”

“We will do everything we can, but not everyone is going to survive this,” the Kleesold First said. Iryana could only nod, hoping she could weather it.

“What of the earthquakes?” Sorahn asked.

So the discussion went, focusing on how best to hold the border and prepare for the refugees. But finally, they had a plan.

Once the details were finalized, Sorahn stood. “I must get back to New Omis. Thank you for the hospitality,” he told the Vyukovold First who had been mostly quiet.

“Lake Vrasho will continue to accept the approved refugees as long as we can,” the duchess said half-heartedly. “If you allow the soldiers into your posts, which I can’t forbid you from doing, you will keep the metal-forged as far from Lake Vrasho as possible.”

They all nodded.

“We’ll leave for our post within the hour,” Iryana’s grandmother added.

Iryana stood shakily from the table as they all began saying their farewells.

She met Sorahn on one side of the room, away from the others. The quick farewell died in her throat as she faced him, the man who had been such a great ally. Iryana inclined her head deeply, more than was necessary. “I wish the best for your clan and for your people. May you be brave and stand strong.” The words felt so heavy. “And I hope we will meet again.”

“You’re a testament to the honor of your clan, Iryana.” He smiled at her and then bowed. “I do not envy the responsibility you’ve had to hold through this, but you should be proud. Your clan should be proud.”

Iryana’s breath stuttered at the sincerity in his words.

Sorahn took a step closer, voice lowering. “Remind Hadima to take care of herself.” Then he retreated a step. “Until we meet again.”

Iryana returned to the First, her heart heavy.

Chapter Thirty

They left Cavta Post almost immediately.

Iryana had hooked up their dog team, loaded their sled, and was now mushing them through the mountain valleys toward home. There was so much on the line that it was hard to focus on what was in front of them.

The fluffy white dogs were difficult to make out against the snow. She was so bundled up as they raced through the snow that her field of vision was but a small gap in the furs of her hood. Her grandmother was huddled up on the sled, not handling the cold as well as she once did.

“Whoa!” Iryana called, pushing down on the brake at the back of the sled with her foot. They came to a stop next to a cluster of snow-draped pines which blocked most of the howling wind.

Iryana moved quickly, making a small fire so she could melt and boil enough drinking water for them all. She kept the dogs harnessed but brought them food and water and brushed the snow off their fur. They would have to be moving again soon; they could only spare a short break.

When she sat next to her grandmother on the sled, she offered a cup of water and some jerky. Her grandmother took it, moving slowly. Iryana could only imagine how much she ached from the cold.

“I wanted to thank you,” Iryana said awkwardly. “For standing up for me back there.”

If her grandmother had fought her on it, Iryana would have had to comply, despite the consequences. The thought of that was so horrible she couldn’t breathe.