Page 113 of Of Iron and Moonlight

Chapter 53

Koraleise

An alarm bell split the camp, dragging Kora from sleep. In that instant between dreaming and waking, she realized she was oddly warm. Duncan was wrapped around her, chest pressed to her back, one arm draped over her waist, one leg tangled with hers, as though in sleep she had become the only shelter left to him.

She startled, flinching away.

Duncan’s eyes flew open. He pulled back at once, as if burned, his expression caught between shock and horror. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep.

“It’s all right,” Kora said quickly, pulling the quilt to her chest, willing the heat from her neck and cheeks. “War makes us all do strange things.”

He searched her face as if uncertain whether to believe her forgiveness was genuine, then rose without another word and began getting dressed with the swift, automatic efficiency of a soldier accustomed to waking to urgency.

The tent flap burst open and Griff stumbled inside, breathless. “Your Grace! Rethor—”

Duncan did not wait for the rest. “Rouse the captains!” he barked over the noise already rising beyond the canvas. “Saddle my horse!”

Kora sank back on the bed as he vanished into the clamor, her pulse still echoing the memory of him pressed against her. Only once the chaos outside settled into the softer cadence of shouted orders and clanging armor did she feel steady enough to rise and dress.

A knock sounded at the canvas as she fastened her cloak.

“Yes?”

“May I come in?” Isander called.

“Yes!” she answered at once, relief easing her tone. “Please.”

His hair was mussed, coat hastily thrown on, composure slightly awry compared with his usual order. Kora’s chest tightened, thinking of how difficult last night’s reunion must have been for him.

“You didn’t go with them?” she asked softly.

He shook his head. “I am to stay. To see that you are safe.”

“I see.” She sat on the edge of the cot. “What’s happened?”

“Kryovarre attacked Rethor,” he explained. “We reclaimed the town a few weeks ago. Sometimes they try to retake what we win back. It stretches our musters thin between offense and defense.”

“Oh.”

“All should be well,” Isander continued. “Cairon’s star-thorns and boar-fangs have proven effective against larger charges, and we leave enough men behind to hold the line until reinforcements arrive.” He paused, then, seeing the concern on her face, added, “Duncan has done this a hundred times before. I’m of little use there.”

A small smile touched him, though he spoke Duncan’s name as if it pained him.

Kora noticed. “I’m sorry,” she said again, not knowing what else to offer.

He waved it aside. “What would you like to do?”

“Will you take me to Lyra?” she asked. “Perhaps the healers could use an extra pair of hands.”

“Of course, my lady,” he said, straightening. “We’ll stop for breakfast first.” Then, with a faint chuckle, “Brace yourself for the finest fare a Lemierri war camp can provide.”

“As long as it’s not spiced fish,” she said, aiming to lighten his mood. Though she knew there was little hope of that.

They found Lyra beside Cairon’s cot, pale with exhaustion, dark crescents stark beneath her eyes. Kora drew her into a gentle embrace before taking a seat beside her.

“The spear went in deep,” Isander reflected quietly, almost to himself, as he inspected the thick bandage wrapped around Cairon’s middle. It had reddened where fresh blood had begun to seep through the linen.

“The healers fear, if he doesn’t wake soon…” A small sob broke through. “He may not wake at all.”