Page 108 of Of Iron and Moonlight

All eyes followed.

Isander stilled.

Understanding came slowly, then all at once.

His jaw tightened.

“My brother,” he said at last. “Merrick.”

Chapter 51

Duncan

“No,” Isander said firmly.

“I know—” Duncan began.

“I said no, Your Grace.” The title fell between them like a barrier.

Nelsyn and Turrel exchanged an uncomfortable glance. Garric’s mouth opened, then shut again. Kora stilled, her hands hovering at her sides. Osric and Brannoc shifted where they stood, both knowing too much of the history binding the moment and torn by it.

“Son,” Osric said gently. “It’s been difficult for us all since Merrick left. Hardest on you, to be sure. But this war won’t pause for our wounds.”

“No,” Isander repeated, unpersuaded.

Duncan searched for a steadier path through the matter. He could not find one.

“Isander,” he said carefully, hating every word he meant to say. “I cannot answer you as your friend in this. I must answer as your duke.” He paused. “We will seek the Ashfell Quiett. We will ask for their aid.”

The moment stretched.

Isander turned sharply and left the tent.

Duncan leaned forward, bracing one hand against the table as exhaustion crashed through him. He had won a battle today. History proved harder to defeat.

“I’ll make the arrangements,” Garric offered quietly.

“I’ll speak with the captain,” Osric added quickly, already moving to follow Garric toward the exit. “Before anger sets where reason might yet live.”

“Thank you,” Duncan said. He closed his eyes briefly, thinking of the man he had not seen in nearly ten years. “And send for plain clothes. For me.”

He swallowed, then added, “And for my wife.”

Kora blinked. Garric and Osric paused mid-step.

“You intend to take the duchess with you,” Brannoc said, brows lifting. His was not the only baffled expression.

“If Merrick is still the man I once knew,” Duncan said, uncertainty threading his voice, “he may hear the request more readily if it comes from her.”

“Aye,” Osric agreed softly, thought heavy behind his eyes.

Kora drew a breath, nerves plain in her posture, but she nodded.

The Council dispersed quickly, urgency carrying each man away until only Kora remained in the tent with Duncan. Until he was forced to face what he had spent weeks refusing to examine. What burned through him was no passing warmth, no fragile comfort that offered escape from grief. It was fiercer. Frightening in its intensity.

She cleared her throat, and he realized he had been standing there simply looking at her. It also occurred to him she was not familiar with the camp.

“Come,” he said at last. “We shall wait in my tent.”