Page 228 of Of Iron and Moonlight

Wolmer narrowed his grey gaze. “Careful, Lemierre. My regard for your father will not protect you from the consequences of disrespect.”

Duncan forced an incredulous laugh despite the tension.

“I have been loyal to you because my father was loyal to you,” he said slowly, ignoring Eamon’s wide stare and the tension in Cassian’s posture. “But while I am Duke, Lemierre will stand behind you only as long as I believe you are making the right decisions. Only as long as what I love remains safe.”

The fire snapped in the hearth.

“If that does not suit you,” Duncan finished quietly, “then cut me down now.”

Eamon raised a hand to his mouth and disguised his shock with a cough.

Wolmer watched Duncan for a long time, something thoughtful passing through his eyes. Something different in his regard, as though he were seeing more than Alaric derWhitte’s son. Perhaps someone he could not afford to lose.

“You have changed,” he murmured, a surprising softness in his tone. “For the better, I think.” He gave a curt nod. “Do not speak to me that way again. But your point is taken. And today, for what you have done for the Vaelclair Empire, I forgive both this and the fact that you withheld from me that the baron in Norrelia was an imposter.”

Eamon and Cassian both relaxed slightly.

Duncan exhaled slowly.

“Where is your wife?” Wolmer asked after a moment. “I ought to thank her as well. She uncovered who murdered my Issabet. And her vines tore through most of the enemy before the Citadel arrived. Had they not, the battle would have been far bloodier.”

“She is on her way to Marrowgate with her brother,” Duncan said, grateful for the shift in topic. “She wished to pay her respects to her father, as we are in Ardor.”

Wolmer nodded thoughtfully. “Then I hope, once the aftermath of this disaster settles, the two of you will resume earnestly your efforts toward producing an heir.” A warm smile returned to his face. “The Vaelclair Empire is better served when there are derWhittes in abundance.”

Duncan thought of Griff’s tousled hair, of Kora, of the excitement he now felt when he allowed himself to imagine the future. One he had never truly believed would be his.

The thought caught him unawares.

Then he laughed.

And this time the sound was genuine.

Chapter 103

Koraleise

The Bay of Ardor managed to look warm even in winter. Life there moved with persistence, untouched by the wars, politics, and grievances that rose and fell across the empire’s scattered corners. Ships eased in and out of the harbor, sails shifting like slow exhales, sending the constant murmur of trade across the water.

On a cliff overlooking it all, they had buried Albrecht verStampebl, the man who had built Marrowgate’s name from wind and ambition. The husband who poured his heart into his adventures, and the father who never quite managed to bring it home.

Kora placed a gilded asphodel sprig upon his grave, a knot of emotions rising in her chest. Being in Marrowgate now felt strangely layered. Familiar and distant. Heavy and hollow. As though she were seeing her own childhood through someone else’s eyes.

She remembered running along these cliffs to escape the cold dread that lived inside her. Curling into the window seat, staring outside while her family talked around her, forgetting she was there. The ache beneath her ribs, a quiet bruise that never eased.

“He wasn’t… warm,” Jeachim said softly beside her. “But he loved us in his own way, I think.” He sighed, thoughtful and uncertain. “I know he was disappointed in me, but I hope—”

Kora pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. “You will be brilliant.” She offered him an encouraging smile. “You were the first Ardorri lord to stand with Duncan. You fought on that field, leading your men through fear and danger.” She paused, letting the words settle before meeting his dark eyes, so much like Albrecht’s. “You are becoming your own man. That matters more than whatever Father might have hoped for us.”

Jeachim gave her an answering, wavering smile. He tucked a strand of hair that had slipped free behind her ear. “Thank you, Kora.”

His attention shifted to their father’s grave, then down the cliffs where Marrowgate Manor kept its stern watch over the bay. “And… I am sorry,” he said. He grimaced slightly, as if uncertain how to shape the thought. “I should have shielded you more when we were children. I know Mother was… often unfair to you. And Elyse—”

“You were always kind,” Kora countered gently, “even while fighting your own battles.”

Jeachim breathed in as though weighing the truth of her words, then nodded and offered her his arm. She slipped her hand into the crook of it, and they walked toward the manor.

Without Albrecht’s presence, the house was oddly quiet.