Page 220 of Of Iron and Moonlight

“It healed some,” Yaoaya replied. “I healed some.”

Kora glanced at her. “I have seen another brumi stone like this. In Norrelia.”

Yaoaya’s jaw tightened, eyes focused on the first rows of tents coming into view.

“Where did my father find it?” Kora pressed, suddenly needing to know.

Silence.

“Fine,” Kora said. “The strange occurrences—I will accept the amulet explains them.” She stopped and turned fully toward Yaoaya. “But I wasn’t just sick at Grayhollyn, was I?” The thought felt impossible even as she spoke it. “It was the iron, wasn’t it?”

Yaoaya stilled but did not face her.

“How can that be?” Kora pressed. “I am not fae, and iron does not have such an effect on humans with fae ancestry.” She could not stop. “I rarely fall ill. My blood is the wrong color, and—”

“Better not to speak of these things now,” Yaoaya said softly but firmly. Her eyes flicked toward a passing soldier. Then another. She resumed walking.

Kora remained where she was, watching her retreat, sorting through the storm of emotion and the quiet, familiar hum threading through her veins.

The distant thunder of magic cracked across the plain beyond Gryon.

Kora startled, forced herself back into motion, and closed the remaining distance to the forge tent. Yaoaya was already there, standing in a corner far away from any iron. Cairon, Merrick, and Rensaya stood in the center, heads bent close together in hushed urgency.

“I told them,” Rensaya said as Kora entered. “I know it was not my secret to share, and I am sorry. But they needed to understand.”

Cairon inclined his head toward Yaoaya. “It’s a sound plan—using ashvael smoke to disorient the Norrelians. But it would still require getting closer than the duke would prefer any of us to go.”

Merrick crossed his arms, nearly rolling his eyes. “We cannot lose this empire because we refused to take a necessary risk. Duncan understands this, even if he won’t face it.”

Kora’s chest tightened. “There must be another approach we haven’t thought of.”

Yaoaya cleared her throat. “I can help,” she murmured. “Maybe.”

Merrick raised a brow, intrigued. “Glamours?”

“Glamours?” Cairon echoed, confused.

“Tsuchitsans can slow or quicken the path of light where they want it. It creates illusions,” Rensaya explained. She turned toward Yaoaya, skepticism clear. “It requires immense control. I understand few can do it well.”

Yaoaya seemed almost offended. “Lucky you have one here who can.” She gestured toward a rack of steel weapons. It vanished completely, as though it had never existed.

“Brilliant,” Merrick puffed quietly. “Close, but not seen.”

Yaoaya lowered her hand, and the weapons shimmered back into view. “But listen,” she added. “I cannot hold the glamour if the ashvael smoke touches me.”

“Could it ever be permanent?” Merrick asked.

“Permanent magic is possible,” Yaoaya said, glancing toward Kora with a strange look. “But the cost is too great. Not for this.” She tucked her hands into her sleeves. “I will hold the glamour from a distance. I will tell you how far when I see the place.”

Kora frowned. “This still seems too dangerous.”

Cairon shook his head. “I take no pleasure in defying orders,” he admitted, exchanging a resigned look with Merrick, “but there is no time left to seek another solution. Even with Cassian’s levies strengthening the line, we cannot hold much longer.”

Kora looked from one face to the next. Cairon. Merrick. Rensaya. And finally, Yaoaya.

She saw no other path.

“All right,” she said at last, already feeling dread creep through her bones.