Page 54 of Of Iron and Moonlight

Before anyone answered, attention shifted across the yard. Voices lowered. Soldiers angled subtly toward the far end of the field.

Duncan stood there, hands clasped behind his back. Late morning light caught the buckle at his shoulder and the clean line of his freshly shorn hair. His beard was gone, the travel-worn disarray replaced by the quiet order of rest and care.

The change was modest yet striking. Kora’s breath faltered, not only at the reminder of his handsomeness but at the way every man responded to his presence.

“Ah,” Isander murmured. “Invoke the Dark Brother and he appears.”

Brannoc’s laugh boomed across the yard. “Now we must look thrice as busy!”

The men immediately bent back to their drills.

“That said,” Osric went on, returning to their conversation with a chuckle, “there are fields where his talents falter. Archery, for instance. The last time Duncan attempted it, the bowstring snapped and claimed half his pride. The target, I might add, survived untouched.”

“You are generous,” Isander said. “You should have seen him fishing last autumn. He released every catch for being too small. None had actually been caught.”

“That is not fair,” Osric protested. “He did catch… a cold.”

They burst into laughter as Duncan crossed the yard toward them. He narrowed his eyes at their expressions. Kora tried to compose herself but failed to hide a residual smile.

“What is this?” Duncan asked, one brow lifting. “Have I missed something amusing?”

“Oh,” Osric said too quickly, “merely an observation about weather patterns.”

“Fishing weather, to be exact,” Isander added, earning a sharp elbow from Osric.

Duncan looked between them, suspicion giving way to reluctant acceptance. “I see.”

After a moment he cleared his throat. “My afternoon has unexpectedly freed itself.” His gaze settled cautiously on Kora. “I thought I might walk through the city and wondered… if the duchess might care to join me.” He glanced briefly at Osric, who was already smiling.

“I would like that very much,” Kora blurted before her nerves could intervene.

Duncan nodded, something quietly pleased in his expression. “You are all welcome, of course,” he added. “A duke should not wander the markets without witnesses.”

“Sound judgment,” Osric said smoothly, approval radiating from him.

Isander sighed theatrically. “I am his guard. I have no choice.” He feigned horror. “Someone must prevent him from buying half the stalls.”

Duncan’s mouth curved faintly. “Then it is settled.” He gestured toward the gates. “I have sent word to Nelayne. She will meet us and see that the markets are properly shown.”

Chapter 28

Koraleise

Abrief carriage ride brought them into Emberglade’s afternoon bustle, the city unfurling in motion and color. Preparations for Goldfire blazed on every street. Shopfronts were strung with thin sheets of beaten brass to catch the sun, balconies hung with gold-threaded banners, and children darted through the crowds with marigolds clenched in their fists, scattering petals like small hopeful wagers. In courtyards and open squares, families sorted old keepsakes from new gifts, setting aside what would be offered to flame or freely given in the days ahead. The air smelled of hot metal and bruised flowers—not of endings, but of change waiting its turn.

“Try not to lose yourselves in the noise,” Nelayne said in greeting, with more satisfaction than admonition in her voice. “Markets do not slow for nobles, stewards, or captains.”

Where Brannoc filled space with laughter, Nelayne filled it with exact accounting. “Citrus from Ardor,” she said, steering them through busy stalls. “Kryovarri venison and boar,” as they passed a stretch scented with smoke and salt, hawkers calling over one another. “Dyes.” Her mouth tightened. “Priced at twice their worth by Duskmerri merchants, but selling anyway.”

They might have moved faster if not for the attention Duncan drew at every turn. The cooper bowed. The baker called a greeting. A fisherman with wet hands raised an arm in passing.

Duncan asked after health, traded jests, rested a hand on shoulders. Listened. He moved through his city as a man known—and known well. Kora felt a quiet swell of pride at the sight.

“His father used to do the same,” Osric murmured beneath the clamor of the market.

“If you keep looking at him like that, I’ll start charging for distractions,” Nelayne said without stopping or turning. “Come, I am in need of a bolt of cloth myself.”

“I do not think she likes me very much,” Kora whispered ruefully.