Page 187 of Of Iron and Moonlight

Elara looked at him through the tears clinging to her lashes.

He offered a small smile. “Would you like me to help you make one for Lorrain?”

She gave the slightest nod, the gesture heavy with unspoken feeling.

They walked the shore and chose the best of scattered stones. Broad, flat stones for the base. Smoother ones for the middle. A piece flecked with mica to catch the light for the top. Each selection was careful. Each placement steadied her hands when they threatened to shake.

The cairn stood scarcely higher than her knee. Yet it felt immense and everlasting. Like something of her heart had been set there in stone.

“If we are fortunate,” Kalaetzu said, “the people we are born to give us steadiness without our having to ask for it.” He glanced toward the cairn. “But sometimes that steadiness comes from elsewhere. From someone who finds us and simply… stays. For those who grow up bracing for the world, that kind of bond is the truest love there is.”

He held out a gilded asphodel sprig and continued, “In Tsuchitsa we believe that what is true does not loosen with distance. Nor does it unravel when the body is gone. What is woven deeply remains woven.” Gently, he placed the sprig in her hand. “Tell me what you loved about her.”

Elara looked down at the sprig. It trembled lightly between her fingers. “She was kind. To everyone. Welcoming. Lorrain radiated warmth and pulled people in without trying.”

Her eyes drifted toward the cairn, as though she might glimpse Lorrain sitting beside it, smiling as she always had. “And she made space for me in her life without hesitation…. Everyone else treated me like an afterthought. A burden. Another mouth to feed.” Her throat tightened. “She never saw me that way. She chose me.”

Her fingers closed around the gilded asphodel sprig. “She was the only person, for a long time, who made me feel like I wasn’t alone. Who made the world feel manageable, even on days it tried to crush me.” A slow breath. “She was my home. Whatever that word is meant to mean.”

Elara crouched and set the sprig atop the final stone.

Her fingers lingered against the cool surface.

For a delicate heartbeat—no more than that—she heard Lorrain’s voice.

I love you.

“I love you,” Elara whispered back, letting the words drift out across the water, carried by wind and memory and every part of her that still could not accept Lorrain was gone.

Chapter 85

Koraleise

“So,” Genefra boomed, embroidery needle poised in hand, “has he stopped your bleeding yet?”

Several ladies tittered in scandalized delight, fanning themselves with theatrical outrage. Terrice verGrom, ever the portrait of propriety, choked on a gasp disguised poorly as a cough. Her hand closed gently around Kora’s arm in a show of support.

“What?” Genefra demanded, blinking with exaggerated innocence. “They’ve been wed half a year, and Lemierre is in desperate need of an heir.”

Genefra, to her credit, had been nothing but kind to Kora since court season began. She had taken it upon herself to drag the peculiar duchess into her circle of seasoned noblewomen, women who stitched silk with careful hands while trading gossip sharper than any needle.

A few months ago Kora might have wished the floor to swallow her whole, but she had grown accustomed to Genefra’s ways. Though heat climbed her cheeks, she reached for the wry humor she had learned would placate this room. “My husband has been rather distracted by the war with Kryovarre,” she said, arranging her features into sorrow, widening her eyes like a forlorn kitten left in the rain. “But I assure you, an heir remains a priority we have greatly enjoyed prioritizing whenever time has permitted.”

Laughter threaded through the sewing circle. Even Heleine derMorvant, the reserved Duchess of Ardor, allowed herself a brief grin without missing a stitch.

“Such a shame the war drags on,” Ansel chimed brightly, curiosity thinly veiled as sympathy. “And that Lemierre remains away because of it.”

“It’s been dreadful,” Terrice said earnestly. “My father’s letters are optimistic, though. At least they were before the palace gates were shut.”

“It’s such an odd feeling, having no word from the outside,” Heleine added, lifting her teacup with a sigh. “Half the empire could be burning and we’d remain none the wiser.”

“All a tragedy,” Genefra declared grandly. Then she fixed her dark, mischievous eyes on Kora again. “At least while the duke is away, I do hope you’re finding some… diversion.”

Kora blinked. “Diversion?”

Genefra winked. “Lord Sabine has taken a noticeable interest in you.”

Heat returned to Kora’s cheeks, and this time it stayed. Court had taught her many lessons quickly. One had become unavoidable: maidenhood was guarded like a sacred relic, but marriage was treated as negotiable. Affairs drifted through palace corridors like perfume, acknowledged so long as no inconvenient children complicated matters.