Page 192 of Of Iron and Moonlight

“They matter enough to decide outcomes,” Duncan replied.

“We need Wolmer to open the palace,” Isander said. “If he calls the Citadel—”

“He will not,” Merrick cut in. “He is drowning in grief. He will not look beyond the palace walls until Issabet’s killer is found, and Firrigan, no doubt, will keep him chasing phantoms until it is too late.”

“Then we will need allies,” Isander said.

“The only lord with meaningful strength is Ardor,” Duncan said, “and Cassian is inside the palace.” He struck the table lightly with his fist. “I should have pressed Cassian sooner. Now I am guessing at his intentions.”

“Silence from Ardor rarely signals innocence,” Isander murmured.

Duncan scrubbed a hand over his face, then nodded once. “The greater houses are unavailable, but not every lesser lord attended court. Some remain in their provinces. Others are scattered through Vaelstrom. Their numbers are smaller, but combined they are not insignificant.”

“Call on them,” Merrick said. “Every one.”

“I will send letters immediately,” Duncan agreed. “Garric to Kryovarre. Cairon to Duskmere. Osric to Ardor. Even if Cassian hesitates, perhaps his nobles will not.” Fierce thought flickered behind his eyes. “Send word to Brannoc. Move the musters toward Emberglade immediately. Rhalen should begin calling the remaining Houses of Lemierre that were held in reserve.” He paused. His expression softened. “Kora sees what others miss. She always has.” He took a breath. “If she exposes the murderer, Wolmer may finally see what is unfolding.”

“I will help her,” Merrick said simply.

“And I will help you,” Isander added, rubbing at the lingering warning beneath his ribs.

Chapter 87

Koraleise

An involuntary gasp. “Marching toward Lemierre?”

Merrick stood near her writing desk, shedding droplets of rain onto the rug. “No one anticipates a winter campaign, which is strictly why Valdir chose it. Duncan is calling what reinforcements he can, but they are lesser houses with modest forces, and though he is hopeful, I do not think it will be enough.”

Kora’s hands trembled before she clasped them together. “We must convince Wolmer to unbar the palace doors. There are nobles here who would ride for Lemierre.”

They worked through it mechanically. Anyone with access to Issabet’s private rooms. Scholars granted private counsel. Courtiers with debts, grievances, or ambitions toward the crown. Names accumulated, forming a constellation of dangers.

Kora tilted her head. “There must be something simple we are overlooking.”

“Let’s begin with the facts,” Merrick offered. “How was Issabet killed?”

“With a slender dagger,” Kora said. “A needle-blade. Driven straight into the chest.”

“Not a clumsy choice,” Merrick murmured.

“It happened in her private study,” Kora continued. “The chamber adjoining her bedroom. She had been writing letters. That is where her ladies found her.”

“Not a public space,” Merrick said, settling into a chair. “Someone with access.”

“There were no signs of struggle,” she added. “Nothing disturbed.”

“So she did not perceive danger.”

“Which means she trusted whoever it was.”

Merrick nodded. “That narrows things.”

“Not Firrigan,” Kora said quietly. “They despised each other.”

“A sound instinct on her part,” Merrick muttered.

Kora leaned back, tapping the armrest. “I considered a lover. A private meeting that turned violent. But the hour does not fit. It was late morning. Too many servants about.”