Page 133 of Of Iron and Moonlight

She tilted her head and studied him for a long moment.

Somewhere, a cup of tea cooled, and Duncan’s heart stumbled.

Her expression softened and she leaned closer, near enough that he could see the darker flecks in her green eyes. “I’ll allow it,” she said at last. “But only if you kiss me.”

She smiled, and Duncan released a breath that was half sob, half prayer. He looked at Kora for one heartbeat longer, simply taking in the miracle of her.

Then he lifted a hand to cradle her cheek and kissed her.

It was not spectacle or wildfire. It was coming home after a long journey. It was a steady hearthfire, sure of itself even when cold pressed at the door. A thread of warmth that seemed to stir the garden around them, as if spring slipped its hand through autumn and awakened it.

A pointed cough cut through the moment. Then again, securing their attention.

Kora drew back with a startled laugh, cheeks flushing.

Yaoaya came over and tapped the green stone at Kora’s collarbone. “Never let her take this off.” She paused, then added, “Never. Never.”

Duncan, who would have signed a contract with the cursed moons themselves for Yaoaya’s good opinion, remained on his knees and bowed his head. “I promise. Whatever you require of me, I will see it done.” He looked up at her earnestly. “Thank you.”

He turned back to his wife, still scarcely believing she sat before him. The horrors of the past week rushed back. “What happened? What was wrong?”

“Yaoaya believes it was the air in the mine,” Kora said, her fingers drifting to the amulet.

“Dust and small spaces,” Yaoaya confirmed, tapping the air with a finger. “Bad for lungs. Some people carry old weakness in chest. Air steals breath and makes heart walk slow.” She clicked her tongue. “No good. Inn better.”

Duncan swallowed as the last threads of dread loosened. “Then she will not return there,” he agreed, already reshaping plans in his mind. He would have agreed to pulling down every tent in Ardennesse and airing the hills themselves if it meant never seeing her so pale again.

“I must return to help,” Kora countered softly.

“There is nothing I would want more,” Duncan said, then let out a weary breath. The warmth that had flooded him began to draw itself into armor again.

“The royal wedding is in a few weeks,” he continued. “We are expected to attend. Stay here for now. Recover. Endure Yaoaya’s dreadful tea.” He offered the nursemaid a grateful look. She gave a curt nod of approval that pleased him far more than it should have. “Isander will escort you to Vaelstrom when you are ready, and I will meet you there.”

Kora nodded, though the understanding carried its own quiet sorrow.

He cupped her face and kissed her again, this time without hesitation. After what death had dangled before him, he would not squander the permission he had been given. Then he pressed a gentler kiss to her brow. “If you need anything, send for me,” he murmured.

“I need you.” She brushed her fingers across his lips. “Come back to me.”

Chapter 63

Njall

The heat of her skin. The flutter of her pulse beneath his hands. The sound of his name escaping her lips. Everything narrowed to that single, consuming point of contact, and Njall moved with her until breath and motion blurred.

When it ended, it ended quietly.

She let out a low, satisfied laugh and stretched languidly beneath him before raking her nails down his back. Ten clean lines opened and sealed as quickly. The sting pulled a small sound from his throat, more pleasure than pain.

He rolled onto his back and drew her against him, fingers tracing idle circles along the curve of her hip. How many times had they lain here like this? In this hidden room behind a temple. Little more than a windowless pocket of air softened by cushions and a single lamp. Was it secrecy that drew them back each time? Devotion?

Or simple ruinous folly, given all he stood to lose if they were discovered?

He looked at Astriyed, searching for the answer in the flawless surface of her beauty. His gaze traced her pale hair, the elegant line of her collarbone where the violet stone usually rested—absent tonight—and the long length of her legs tangled with his.

She looked up at him and gave that dangerous smile that made her amethyst eyes glow. “You always look so serious after,” she teased, her fingers gliding across the ridges of his abdomen. Her touch was ice against his heated skin.

Njall grunted and threw one arm behind his head. The other wrapped around her, spreading his palm across her flat belly. “I heard it didn’t take. The ritual. With Gorien.”