Page 109 of Of Iron and Moonlight

He led her through ordered rows, steering them away from the worst sights the day had left behind. Nothing escaped her notice. Her green eyes lingered on every detail.

“Isander’s brother,” she said after a moment. “I did not know he had one.”

“We don’t speak of Merrick often.” Duncan exhaled slowly. “Not from shame. From caution.” He lifted the tent flap and held it for her. Someone had lit the small hearth inside, and warmth gathered around them. “He’s earned himself a criminal’s reputation. It seemed wiser not to draw attention to the connection.”

Duncan sat on the edge of the bed, unsure where else to place himself. Kora settled at the desk, fingers brushing the edge of a ledger as she looked at him, waiting.

“Their mother came to Lemierre shortly after their father’s death,” he said. “She was already carrying Merrick. My father took both boys as his wards.”

“I once asked Isander about his family, and it did not go well.”

“Isander has never forgiven Merrick for leaving. Or for never returning. We’ve only heard of him through rumors since. His name tends to surface where trouble follows.”

Green eyes lingered on him. “Were you close to him too?”

“Yes.” The word came easily. “He was like a brother. Garriden, Corwin, Isander, Merrick, and I. We were inseparable as boys. Absolute terrors, in truth.”

She smiled faintly. “I wonder why he left.”

He met her eyes. “I can’t be sure, but I do believe he never stopped longing for Kryovarre. Isander accepted Lemierre as home. Merrick never did. He spoke often of returning to his family’s lands.”

“And if he refuses to help us?” she asked quietly. “If that loyalty still holds?”

Duncan shook his head with a short laugh. “It’s the duchy he loves, not its duke. Merrick despises Valdir derDobroiov. The Ashfell Quiett exists largely to erode his wealth.”

“I’ve heard of them,” Kora said. “Even in Ardor. Are the rumors about him true?”

He frowned. “I don’t know who he has become. But the Merrick I knew was levelheaded. Impulsive, perhaps. Evasive. Yet never cruel for cruelty’s sake. He could be reasoned with.”

Kora tilted her head, thinking.

Duncan simply watched her.

The tent flap opened, letting in a breath of cold air. Garric stepped inside, urgency etched across his expression. Griff followed with a bundle of folded clothes, set it on the table, ducked an awkward bow, and slipped out. Duncan suppressed a smile.

“The meeting is arranged,” Garric said. “Merrick will see us tonight. There’s an Ashfell Quiett safehouse outside Kalgorod.” His gaze moved between them. “We leave as soon as you’re ready. I’ll come with you… and Osric persuaded Isander to join as well.”

Relief touched Duncan, though it carried its own tension.

When Garric left, Kora’s attention drifted to the folded clothes, then flitted about the tent. Her lips parted in a small, startled breath as color rose in her cheeks.

Duncan noticed at once and stood. “Forgive me.” His hands lifted in a gesture that felt clumsier than intended, but oddly akin to how he felt. “I’ll have a tent prepared for you.”

Her color deepened, but she didn’t falter. “There’s no need. It’s war. I won’t be a burden,” she said quickly, then drew a steadying breath and reached for the clothes.

Duncan turned toward the bed to give her privacy, but a mirror leaning against the canvas betrayed him. Its surface caught glimpses as she loosened her hair, dark curls spilling down her back, while firelight traced her form, her collarbone, the quiet rise of her breath.

Desire moved through him with little mercy. He gripped the bedpost until the grain pressed into his palm, wrestling the tangle of feeling that followed: worry for the danger she had ridden into, relief that she was here all the same, and the knowledge her presence threatened to take more of him than he was ready to surrender.

“You may turn.”

Duncan did.

His own modesty had long been stripped away by barracks and campaigns. He pulled his shirt over his head and changed quickly. Kora’s cheeks warmed again, and her eyes darted anywhere but him before she abruptly turned away.

Duncan allowed himself a quiet, private chuckle.

Outside, the murmur of camp had dulled, and night had deepened into that still hour when even war seemed to draw a breath and wait. Only the watchmen’s calls marked the living from sleep.