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Until she figured out how to bring their people together, anything between her and Pyetar had to stay a secret.

The First’s fingers stilled. “I know you trust him. I’m trying to see it. But you need to remember he has never showed mercy or offered flexibility. He even threatened to set the dakii on us if we didn’t accept their meager protections. And then he burned our food stores down.”

“That wasn’t Pyetar’s fault!” Iryana gripped her skirts tightly. “That was my fault. And Karvek’s.”

The First watched her closely, the angry lines on her face slowly smoothing as she morphed from the clan matron to Iryana’s grandmother. “We’re past that all. I don’t blame you, my sweet granddaughter. Just remember that while you saw one side of him, we saw another. And our clan can’t afford to make a mistake here.”

Iryana swallowed at the regret and pain she saw in her grandmother’s eyes. She hated this part almost as much as they hated Pyetar and the brigade. Ever since Iryana had revealed the truth of her father and what she’d been through, they’d pitied her. And they blamed themselves just as much. Iryana didn’t know how to face those feelings, not after so many years of resenting them for leaving her and her mother to care for her father alone.

Absently, her right hand reached over the opposite shoulder to clutch her back. Beneath the decorative dress, Iryana’s forging tattoos were inked. Any time she thought of the abuse she’d suffered, those markings seemed to burn. It was the truth she’d revealed to bare her soul, giving the magic of Noshtiz an opening to bond with her. It was a steep price everyone in Istri paid, though some didn’t even survive it. That pain would forever be carved into her.

Iryana shut her eyes; she would not wallow in that torment. She couldn’t help anyone if she did. When her eyes flew open, she’d neatly tucked all that hurt back inside. She had to find another way to move forward.

“Hopefully the mission to the temple helps,” Iryana finally added. “And I can get a better idea of how to improve our interactions with the brigade.”

The First’s sharp blue eyes bored into Iryana, no doubt measuring countless factors in her mind. Measuring the Third she had chosen. Iryana refused to squirm.

“We can hope,” the First grit out reluctantly. “But remember to keep an eye on the 18th. Don’t let your hopes blind you to the danger those soldiers pose. Levek and Edvar are in your hands, as are the unforged from the settlement.”

Iryana nodded quickly. “Of course.”

“Are you ready to talk with the conclave?”

She nodded, swallowing.

She just had to remind herself that she had a path forward, even if it wasn’t everything she wanted. She would have an opportunity to repair relations between her clan and the brigade. She would get to see Pyetar. March with him for weeks. There’d be countless eyes on them, but it was better than she could have hoped for previously. Maybe Vaneshta or some of the others from the team Iryana had been stationed with during her time in the 18th would even be there.

That excitement would have to get her through her dread of meeting with the Elementi Conclave. Of having to admit what her second forging had done to her.

“I will see you tonight.” Iryana stood quickly. “After I get back from rounds.”

The First looked at her, seeming to hesitate for a moment. But all she said was, “Be careful.”

The next morning was particularly chilly, mist clinging to the folds of the mountain above them. Iryana stood just outside the house’s courtyard, leaning against the open gate, taking it all in. The sun hadn’t made its way over the mountains yet, but the sky was already a clear, deep blue that stretched above her. Small wisps of clouds glimmered gold, red, and purple. The colors were so intense it felt like she could dip a brush in them and paint with the vivid hues.

Waking up in the little room in the main house was always a little claustrophobic. The bed was small and her quilt always wrapped around her legs while she slept, her body too warm and sweaty. It was getting easier every day, but she still needed to escape the wooden confines of the building, breathe the fresh valley air, before she could calm her nerves enough to face the clan.

Slowly, she dragged in a deep breath, eyes fluttering closed. The cold was sharp as she drew it into her lungs, a chill racing through her body despite the woolen shawl she’d wrapped around her shoulders.

Her fears had never fully left her. She still worried she wasn’t enough. That she’d push her family away, fail them. But she was Third now, and she refused to abandon them. Refused to fail because she didn’t try her hardest to do right by them.

The clan’s future was in her hands now, and they weren’t as prepared for the oncoming winter as they should be.

With one last lingering look at the sky, Iryana headed back inside. She wanted to see if there was anything she could do to help with the clan’s supplies. The hall was dimly lit, soft light filtering in from the windows in the open rooms that lined it. It felt almost cozy.

She had only made it a few paces before she saw her grandmother coming down the stairs.

“Good morning, First.” Iryana quickly tugged her shawl, making sure it was orderly.

“Third.” Her grandmother smiled down at her, but then her eyes narrowed on Iryana’s shawl and her curled shoulders beneath it.

“I should head to the, uh…” Iryana trailed off, trying to think of an excuse to slip away, but her grandmother had already reached the landing.

“This isn’t imbued,” the First muttered as she fingered the shawl. “You’ll need to have Teshya knit you a new one.”

Iryana fought the urge to cringe. She didn’t want to make more work for poor Teshya, who was dealing with a teething baby still not sleeping through the night.

“I have enough—”