Page 46 of Of Iron and Moonlight

Kora blushed, biting back a smile. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“Garric Holt,” the duke continued, indicating the man lounging at the window. His posture was easy, but his stillness suggested a bowstring drawn taut. “Master of the Watch.”

The man inclined his head, a humorless smile touching his mouth.

“Rensaya Mohr,” the duke said next, his tone quieting a fraction. The older woman wore a brown cloak that might have passed for bark in the right light. Her eyes, black as a polished seed, called to mind Yaoaya in some inexplicable way. “Keeper of the Wilds.”

The older woman offered only a grave nod.

“And last,” Kora’s husband said, turning to the man with a dark goatee and strong forearms bared beneath rolled sleeves, “Cairon Veynar, Master of the Forge. If it cannot be mended, he invents it anew. He also makes plows that flirt.”

“With the soil,” Cairon demurred, displaying both palms with a shrug. “Harmless flirts. Mostly.”

The room erupted with laughter again. Even Garric’s neutral mouth twitched.

“How is Lyra?” the duke asked once the noise settled.

Cairon’s brown eyes gleamed. “She sends her greetings… and a warning. If you don’t come eat at our table soon, she’ll march here herself and drag you by the ear.”

“That sounds like Lyra,” the duke said, with affectionate resignation. He laughed then, simply. His ease among them, their banter, all of it touched Kora more deeply than she expected.

“As you likely have heard,” her husband added, “this is my wife, Koraleise.” His grey eyes came to rest on her, almost rueful. “Please, be on your best behavior. She will be joining us today.”

A ripple of surprise passed through the room, no sharper than lifted brows or stilled hands. Then chairs scraped back, places shifted, and the gathering absorbed the change without fuss.

“Your seat, my—ah—New Grace,” Brannoc announced, swinging a chair next to him toward her in a gesture that nearly upended his cup.

“Careful,” Rhalen’s white beard twitched with laughter. “One more twist, you’ll crack your spine.”

“Then I’ll die happily in service,” Brannoc shot back playfully as Kora took the offered seat.

“Will the captain be joining us?” Cairon asked.

The duke sat down at the head of the table with a wry smile. “He judged sleep the more pressing obligation this afternoon.”

Cairon laughed. “We’ll see him later, then.”

“You look well,” Nelayne said, humor edging her tone, fondness just beneath. “For a man who spent half a year feasting in palaces and then ran north, chasing trouble.”

“Trouble has a fine nose for me,” the duke replied. “But let’s save my foolishness for later. First, tell me how Emberglade and Lemierre have weathered my absence.”

Laughter quieted. Quills straightened beside ledgers. Hands folded along the table’s edge. The ease of camaraderie remained, now joined by purpose. Sitting among them, Kora leaned forward, unable to resist, eager to listen to the beating heart of Lemierre.

Chapter 25

Koraleise

“Shall we begin with the accounts?” Osric asked, sliding a slim folio toward the duke. He nudged a dish of sugared plums to the center of the table as well, as if business, like weather or grief, was best met with something sweet within reach. Brannoc reached for them at once.

“Please,” the duke said, brow furrowed.

“There are no immediate worries where the coffers are concerned,” Osric began, his finger running down neat columns. “The late thaw cost us nearly a fortnight, but Cairon’s lever-plows kept sowing on time. Spring tariffs came in better than expected, and we hold enough in reserve to call further levies if Kryovarre presses our borders harder than rumor suggests.” He glanced toward Nelayne, silent conversation passing between them. “Only one matter troubles me.”

“The ledgers show a shortfall,” Nelayne said, shifting Styfan on her knee. “Minor, but persistent. The numbers look sound on the page, yet the sums refuse to reconcile.”

The duke steepled his fingers. “Bring me the books tonight. I’ll be reviewing them regardless to learn what I’ve missed. Let me see whether I can find the fault.”

“I’ve marked the irregularities,” Osric added. “It could be a tithe miscount, or someone skimming through freight contracts. I’ve not been able to unravel it, no matter how often I return to it.”