Page 117 of Of Iron and Moonlight

“There’s something I’ve been considering,” Duncan said eventually, running a gloved hand through his hair. “I have seen no sign of Valdir’s men wielding fire. Not as you described.”

Nelsyn’s expression dimmed. “Nor have I these past weeks.” He swallowed and shook his head. “Sometimes I wonder if I misjudged what I saw.”

“You’re certain it was men? That wielded it.”

“As certain as the Three Moons overhead.”

The warning from the false Pietre stirred again in Duncan’s thoughts. If Nelsyn had not imagined it, something moved beneath the surface of this war. Something he had yet to understand.

“Shall we return, Your Grace?” Nelsyn asked. “I wish for you to see the chamber I mentioned.”

Duncan set his thoughts aside and nodded.

Together they descended toward the Grayhollyn mine. The Council waited deep within it, in a chamber hollowed from stone where sound settled rather than echoed. Lanterns burned along the walls, their light fading quickly into shadow. The tang of iron hung in the air, and red dust drifted through every beam of light.

Duncan dragged a hand across the long table. His glove came away streaked with iron residue. Garric sneezed sharply, drawing a glance from Osric.

“This place smells more strongly of iron than my forge,” Cairon said dryly. Color had returned to him in the weeks since he’d woken, though his hand still often strayed toward his healing side.

“Tastes like it too,” Brannoc muttered, spitting into the dust.

Merrick lounged back in his chair with his boots hooked on a rung and laughed. “You sound like old women complaining at a market stall.”

Duncan wiped his hand on a cloth and raised it.

The chatter died.

“Since we’re all here, we’ll debrief now.”

Boots sounded and chairs scraped as they gathered around the table.

“First,” Duncan said, his eyes moving over them, “today was a hard won victory. We reclaimed Grayhollyn not through force but through unity. Every person in this room played a part.” His gaze paused briefly on Merrick. “Thank you for bringing the people to our side.”

“You should thank your wife for convincing me,” Merrick said with a crooked grin.

Duncan’s heart gave a subtle, unwelcome jolt. “Indeed.”

Merrick’s smile widened as their eyes met, something knowing flickering there before he looked away and sprawled more deeply into his chair.

“Lord Nelsyn has suggested we move our command here,” Duncan continued, pushing the moment aside. “Thoughts?”

“It’s more defensible than Trivolen,” Nelsyn added for good measure.

“From here we can redeploy quickly across the region and press Kryovarre from both flanks,” said Jeffren derRuell. The Baron of Grayhollyn had a miner’s build, his hands permanently stained with soot. “We might even end this war before the first snow.”

Duncan glanced at Osric.

“Trivolen sits on marsh and open ground,” Osric said. “When the autumn rains come in earnest, the land will betray us. Here we stand on stone.” His attention shifted to the walls. “And there are tunnels beneath the city Kryovarre never discovered, said to reach as far as Vaelstrom.”

Around the table, heads nodded. Even Merrick gave a thoughtful dip of agreement, interest clearly piqued by the mention of the hidden passages.

Duncan gestured to the messenger waiting by the wall. “We will move the encampment here by tomorrow night. No delays.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” The boy bowed and sprinted up the stairs.

Duncan returned to the table. “Kryovarre will try harder to reclaim what they’ve lost. We need patrols sent to every eastern town.”

“I’ll see to that,” Merrick said, leaning forward at last. “My men can cover the roads. They know the terrain and move faster than your soldiers.”