The pounding in my head reminds me of last week’s wačípi, where I married another dozen couples with my love at my side.

I smile as I remember dancing well into the night with him at my side, the way his smile makes my whole world disappear…

And then immediately regret it as the movement sends a bolt of pain through my head.

“Yúƞ!” I exclaim, curling up into a ball on my side with my hands pressed against my head. “My head!”

I hear the sound of someone rushing to my side, and then a soft hand settles on my own.

“I have hot mint tea and a decoction of peachleaf willow ready, if your head hurts,” a soft voice gently tells the young leader. “If it’s the sound, I’ve got some earplugs around, but otherwise, you’ll have to tell me what ails you, Mitȟaƞ.”

I grit my teeth at the passive aggression - Mitȟaƞ. She calls me her ‘younger sister,’ as though I don’t outrank her.

“I’m fine, Healer,” I tell her. “I’ll be fine.”

“Oh, Mitȟaƞ, I can see you in pain. This is my job, you realize.”

“I said I’m fine,” I say again, gritting my teeth as the sound of her voice sends bolts of pain through my head. “I need to get out there and… and…” I trail off.

Justinia tuts at me before moving away from my bed again. “I can see your thoughts crossing your face, little one.”

She strides off towards her cabinetry and I hear a few doors opening and closing, and the hisss of hot water as she prepares a decoction of what smells like wild mint and willowbark.

I curl up in my cot to forget everything, but the medicine woman’s continual clattering rings through my head worse than the… the…

“Sit up,” her voice commands. Her hands follow suit momentarily after, forcing me to sit up as she directs a hot cup of frothy liquid to my mouth.

“Drink,” she commands. She doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer as she tips the cup up, forcing the hot liquid down my throat.

Thankfully, it being mint and willow, it tastes fairly nice, and I feel the warmth trickle through me as I’m force-fed medicine.

“Drink up, Mitȟaƞ, and I will send your guard up when they return. The commanding Čuwé will be by shortly, she expressed wishes to see any others that may show up.”

Justinia’s voice is short, curt, and she strides out of the private room with just as much care.

I take the moment to curl back up, but the medicine woman’s voice cuts through the shallow darkness, telling me, “Sit up, Hokši-la, the medicine won’t work unless you do!”

I grumble, but sit up against the headboard, closing my eyes.

I don’t know how much time passes, but I startle as someone sits on the foot of my cot, following by the thud of a heavy weapon on the floor by the bed.

“Mihíngna,” the voice says, and my eyes fly open.

Sitting at the end of my cot, stroking my legs through the weathered quilts as he looks at me. His silver eyes are squinting in the darkness, and even with no windows, the streaks of silver in his hair glow like the moon herself is illuminating this man from the inside out.

“What are you doing?” His voice is soft, floating over me like a soft breeze over the tallest grass prairies.

“I’m…” But I trail off. What am I doing?

“My beautiful Snowstorm,” he says to me pointedly. “You look tired, and you look amazing, and you know my heart is yours…”

He trails off, staring at me with a knowing look.

“But I can’t hide,” I whisper, realizing that my headache has been gone for some time. The Medicine Woman didn’t earn that title by chance.

“Čuwé Talutah is waiting at the top of the gatehouse,” his voice tells me quietly. “She cannot lead the oyáte to safety in her condition.”

I hesitate, thinking about that. Sister Talutah, for all the greatness she is and brings to the battlefield, is numb from continual willowbark and poppy milk treatments. Wheelchair-bound, the greatest of us is no doubt foggy and hating every second she doesn’t have two warclubs in her hands.

“What about you?” I ask my dutiful husband. “Why are you not leading the oyáte?”

He hesitates before answering, but the silence tells more than it doesn’t. “Warriors are needed to evacuate the city,” he finally says. “I am going to lead a band to seek lone survivors, to spread word to come here, to Tȟaópi Khilí. The Medicine Woman says there is a way out from here.”

The unspoken pieces hang in the air between us, but I elect not to bring them up.

“Are you taking your guard?” I ask him.

He smiles softly. “I would, but I’d fear for their safety,” he jokes lightly. “Nay, I’ll leave the Cinnamon Woman and her little brother here with you, to help facilitate order and the evacuation here.”

I nod. I do not blame him for this choice – Ixtel and Xinhua may be his blotahuƞka tȟaƞka and blotahuƞka inuƞpa, but they are not great warriors like my husband, and their status will serve better here, to keep order under Talutah’s command.

Under my command.

I shiver.

“Your spear?” I ask him. He grins at me, and with a deft movement from his feet and hands, twirls it into the air, where it sticks into the ceiling.

Justinia’s voice is immediate as she shouts into the private room, “You better not be putting holes in my Inn!”

My husband and I laugh at that. The metallic sound of his laughter is familiar to me, and I lean forward, hugging him as I do.

“I must be off,” he says, letting go of me. “The band waits for me.”

“Who do you have?” I ask him. “Who are the greatest to keep up with my champion husband?”

“Grandmother Snow, Ayotli the Shell, Evening Wolf, Red Dawn’s Fury, and Lily-of-the-Canyon are to accompany me,” he lists off. I recognize the names, and nod with a relieved smile on my face.

“Legendary names, all,” I tell him. “You may be the least dangerous person in your band.”

I pause, realizing who the last name he said was.

“Why is the Grandmother’s blotahuƞka tȟaƞka accompanying you?” I ask. “Where is Unči Udrid?”

“Our gracious Grandmother was among the first to perish,” he says, his face darkening. “She and her inuƞpa felled the Jiar Tree on the north side of the city to block cliffside path into the city. Lily-of-the-Canyon was nowhere nearby, having been keeping watch on the eastern gates when the attacks started.”

“Who do we know is safe?” I say, pulling at his sleeve.

“The Sister of Iron is unaccounted for, but last messages had her safe and making her way here. The Mother General is unknown, and the Mother Immigrant was last seen at the docks.” His eyes soften as he looks at me, judging my reactions to these names.

“And… Mother?” I ask.

With this, he gives me a happier smile, broadly across his face. “The Mother Youngling barricaded the Academies. They are in the undercity, making their way here, which is why you must hurry.” He gives me a pointed look. “Go see the Medicine Woman, now. I must go.”

I nod, relief that at least one Iná is safe. I do not want to be in charge.

I grab Itomaza’s hand as he leaves, holding it over my heart. “Mičaƞté él blúze,” I tell him.

He leans in, gives me a kiss, and leaves without another word.

Justinia wasn’t too please by the time I spent dawdling in the healing rooms. She gives me a talking-to as we ascend the steps to the top of the gatehouse, where I can see a wheelchair-bound Talutah groggily staring down at the battlefield, both her blotahuƞka at her side; I give Oghul and Lutawin a nod, and they return the nod, a steely glint in their eyes as they both have a tight grip on their Sister’s wheelchair.

“Are those the Giantesses?” I hear Talutah questioning as I approach. “I have not seen Olga and her command here in the city since I was a child.”

“Aye,” Oghul answers, their voice gruff.

“Star-Eyes has arrived,” Justinia announces me as we come closer, causing the heads of the remaining command to swivel and look at me.

I count two friendly faces – My own guard, Seina and Maȟto Ska, have both arrived and stand there waiting for me. As I walk up, they defer to me and come to my side.

I admit, I feel better with my guard at my back.

I count four unfriendly faces – the first true Akíčita I’ve seen since arriving here, and it’s the leaders of three separate Akíčita.

The first, and the proudest, looks me up and down. “The smallest of Sisters has finally shown up,” Mnišni growls at me. “The defense is falling, and he finally shows his face.”

One of the second two faces, mirrors of each other and significantly shorter than the rest of us, speak up. “Nača Mnišni! Be respectful. The Sister is young still and this is a great crisis that even the most experiences of us could not handle on our own.”

“Aketzalli, sister,” her mirror says to her. “While I agree this to be true, I have to admit that even the least of us could do more than what this one has.”

“Hush, Ahuiliztli,” the first one says back. “Be respectful.” She shoots me a sympathetic look. I shuffle my feet uncomfortably.

The final face, both the youngest and the newest Nača to appear among the Akíčita, finally decides to speak up. “The Running Stags are gathering at the Unforgiven Manor,” she says, ignoring the bickering of her older compatriots. “Justinia, you can open the tunnels to take us there, can you not?”

“I can,” Justinia confirms. “There are few with the power to, but Mitȟaƞ Star-Eyes here can open it for us. Weak though he may be, he is Sister of this city, and his blood is powerful.”

My face grows red as Justinia insults me to my face, and does so without even making a second glance at me.

I feel Seina and Maȟto Ska tense at my side, and I tap both of their hands – Do nothing.

I can feel their frustration at being forced to accept Justinia’s blatant disrespect to my face, but I elect to decide that we have more important things to worry about than one Medicine Woman.

I decide to take no more of this and speak up. “Justinia, you show me how to do this. In the meantime, my guard will oversee evacuation and funneling of people into Tȟaópi Khilí.” I turn and address them specifically. “When Kommandir Olga arrives, take them as your direct consultants, but remain in charge.”

I pull them closer, talking lower. “Take Ixtel’s opinions into consideration, and that of Oghul and Lutawin, but heed nothing from the mouths of the Nača – they look out for themselves and their own, and would watch the world burn if their own Akíčita were safe. Your job is everyone, and supersedes anything they want. Do you understand?”

“Aye,” the gruff old blotahuƞka nods at me, gripping his spear and shield.

“Tis one understands,” Seina agrees. “Tis one may find ‘er sister and broter, should ta circumstances agree.”

“Good,” I say. “We’re lacking in the witches up here.”

“Xinhua would be useful, yes,” Seina responds. “If tis one sees a bird, tis one will send it ‘is way.”

I nod, backing away. “Justinia,” I say. “Where are we going?”

“To the throne room,” she says grimly. “I sent Pretty Braid and Degosawi ahead to clear the path, but there is no saying what we’ll find on the way.”

I shudder. Tȟaópi Khilí, the great stone fortress, has a heart that has been walled off for decades. It used to be used as a store room, and was once a great hall of gathering, but the restless spirits that inhabit the lower floors of the structure inspire very few who go down there. Eventually, it became it simpler to wall off the lower rooms and leave those who perished down there to their fate.

“Where does the path start?”

“The Crone’s Way should start under the throne. The Crones of old built it, back when the Unči was still a terrible warchief.”

I note how dark Justinia’s voice is as she talks about the Crones of old. While our city is led by the Unči now, the title used to belong to the Crones, old and powerful witches of war.

But Hokši-húƞ has not been at war for…

“How long has it been since the walls were repaired?” I ask Justinia as we walk quickly through the dark corridors. “Why is it the spirit-eaters weren’t stopped by the walls?”

“The northern walls were all but gone, eaten away and rotting,” Justinia explains. “The Sister of Stone has been meaning to repair them for many decades, but each successive Sister kept pushing it to the bottom of their priorities – The city has not been at war since…” Justinia trails off. “I do not know. My knowledge of this city’s history is patchy at best.”

“I believe three wars back,” I say dryly. “Three full wars, and yet this city did not participate directly in a single one of them. Why is it we were attacked now?”

“We can think on this all day long, Mitȟaƞ Star-Eyes, but it will do us no good if we cannot lead the people to safety,” Justinia’s reply is curt. “My only knowledge on the matter is this – Three days past, a messenger arrived from High Ridge. He was heavily injured, and required a stay at my Hut for two full days. Attempts to communicate were made, but nothing of value was gained until earlier this morning, when he was awakened from the screams of the spirit-eaters. His message was simple – High Ridge was in danger and needed aide.”

“While the message is a cry for help, it is one we cannot afford to answer. Not with our own city struggling for her very survival.” Justinia’s voice is curt, and I do not blame her.

“Where is the messenger now?” I ask.

“He took up his warclub and went down to the fighting after he had some stew. I did not stop him. The guard needed all the help it could get.”

I nod. We say no more.

As we descend through two more staircases, the stairs turn to stone and the air quickly grows heavy and musty. Justinia holds out a hand, producing a flame of the most piercing white, casting us and our surroundings in sharp contrasts.

“I did not know you could conjure fire,” I say, admittedly impressed.

“Bah. Any witch worth her salt can produce flames.”

“But Seina…”

“Seina is a fire witch,” Justinia says impatiently. “Her flames are far more potent than anything I could hope to produce. But basic flames? Even Xinhua, the dullard that he is, could produce a flame.”

“He’s not –”

Justinia waves her hand dismissively. “He is certainly far from bright, no matter how you describe him. But enough is enough – we’ve arrived.”

I peer into the darkness. Towards the end of the corridor we walk in now, surrounded by carved stone on all sides, are Justinia’s two guards.

Pretty Braid holds the largest pickaxe I’ve ever seen, while Degosawi holds her own, much dimmer flame in her hand.

“I had to blast some doors down,” Degosawi says with a cheerful grin. “And Pretty Braid here is pretty good with her pickaxe, but we got there in the end. Now it’s just the throne room door itself, which needs a stronger witch than I to open, Pȟežúta-Wí.”

Justinia nods, waving at the two of them to step aside. “I don’t know how this door was sealed, but I imagine I should be able to open it…”

She presses her hand to the door, whispering to herself quickly in the deep language.

Meanwhile, Degosawi and Pretty Braid walk to my side, both of them looking at me curiously.

“You are Čuwé Star-Eyes?” Degosawi whispers to me, curiosity in her eyes. “We have heard much about you from those in the Hut, but you’ve never come ‘round.”

Pretty Braid stares at me thoughtfully for a few moments before remarking, “I think the Čuwé Starving Woman and the Čuwé Red Hawk are much more interesting than you. Why did the Čuwé Hollow Spear choose you of all people?”

My face grows hot at the comments, and I can feel the embarrassment climbing up my spine. I try to look them in the eye and respond to their comments.

“My Southern Iron didn’t choose me for nothing,” I tell them stiffly. “Despite what you may have heard, I have accomplished my own deeds since becoming the Coinmaster.”

“Like what?” Degosawi challenges me. “From what we’ve heard, you do nothing all day.”

I am saved from answering her direct challenge as Justinia turns and tuts at us all.

“I have broken the seal on the door,” she announces. “Pretty Braid, take your axe to the door and see if you can’t –”

Crack.

The stone seal shatters from the first blow of Pretty Braid’s pickaxe.