Page 9 of Of Iron and Moonlight

Elysande curtsied, enthusiastic yet far more composed than her mother. “It is a pleasure to welcome you to our home, Your Grace,” she said, lifting dark eyes to his through long lashes.

Duncan regarded her with quiet attention, noting her beauty and how easily it caught his interest. She offered a graceful hand as she rose, raven-dark hair spilling across her shoulders. He accepted it, brushed a lingering kiss across her knuckles, and smiled.

To his wife’s visible displeasure, Albrecht ushered both women back. He motioned gently to the slender woman standing slightly apart. “Our youngest, Koraleise.”

“Your Grace,” Koraleise curtsied with exactness, without flourish.

When she straightened and lifted her gaze, Duncan paused. Like her siblings, the youngest had inherited Albrecht’s raven-dark hair, but her eyes were green, dark only at the outer ring. They observed him with the watchful intensity of a forest under moonlight.

No hand was offered.

“Koraleise,” Duncan said, inclining his head.

“Come, Your Grace,” Lorenthea said briskly, turning toward the manor. “You must be exhausted from your travels. Our steward will see to your belongings. Elyse and I will show you to your rooms. Then we shall sit for a luncheon.”

Duncan glanced at Isander, seeking reassurance. The answering smile was small, but enough. With it, Duncan turned and followed the viscountess and her daughter inside.

They led him through limestone halls, open to sun and sea air, veined with coral hues and touches of sapphire, toward a handsome set of rooms overlooking the gardens behind the manor. Arched windows opened to a breeze, the cries of gulls, and distant surf. It was not the grand suite he was used to, but Duncan did not mind. It reminded him of the Citadel.

He readied himself, then paused by a window, allowing himself a moment to settle. For the first time, he noticed the manor’s gardens were uncommonly lush—a quiet defiance of Ardor’s climate. He wondered whether the viscount had brought the seeds back from his travels, and whether patience or chance had allowed them to thrive.

Then he set the thought aside and returned to his father’s voice. You may be afraid, weary of the risks, or find it the last thing you want to do. Do it anyway.

And so Duncan did.

He drew a slow breath, reached for the handle, and stepped out.

Chapter 5

Duncan

Servants threaded around the long table at Marrowgate Manor, pouring sweet wine, replenishing olive bread, and replacing platters before they cooled. Silver chimed softly against porcelain, and the linen held the afternoon light as though steeped in gold. At the head of the table, Lorenthea presided, keenly aware of her distinguished guest.

“Your Grace, you must try the fish,” she insisted. “It is dressed in saffron and lemon, finished with herbs from our hillsides. In Ardor, we season as we live: boldly and with care.”

Elysande leaned forward. “I worked with our cook to perfect the dish. Father insists it be served whenever we host important guests.” She glanced fondly at Albrecht.

He did not seem to notice.

Duncan sampled a bite and took a dutiful sip of wine before speaking. “It is very fine,” he lied. From the corner of his eye, he caught the youngest verStampebl suppressing a smile.

“Oh, hush.” Amusement softened Albrecht’s voice before a small cough took it. Duncan registered a weariness he had not noticed before. “I am certain the duke dines well wherever he goes. We can only hope our table compares.”

He turned fully to Duncan. “Tell me, Your Grace, how fares trade in Lemierre? Your lands have long been known for iron.”

“Marble and oil account for a large share,” Duncan replied. “But iron remains Lemierre’s lifeblood. Our mines do not rest, nor do our forges.”

“Iron is the Empire’s lifeblood,” Albrecht amended lightly. “What Lemierre sends from its forges is awaited in every harbor. Ardor depends upon it most, though we pretend otherwise.”

“A fair point,” Duncan allowed. “It is fortunate spring has finally arrived and the river markets have reopened. Iron and coin move quickest where the waters do, and as long as both flow, men find less reason to quarrel. My father always said the same.”

“Good bridges and steady tolls secure loyalty faster than swords,” Albrecht agreed.

“On that note,” Jeachim said, a touch too quickly, “Father and I were discussing tariffs along the river routes. Our merchants insist the levies cut too deeply into profit, though Father believes them needed. I suggested easing them might yield greater returns.”

Koraleise lifted her head. “Unless they are eased too quickly,” she said. “Wealthier traders will hoard supplies and inflate prices. Those with the least means suffer longest before profit returns. A more gradual adjustment would limit such abuses.”

Duncan raised his brows. “You speak wisely, Koraleise.” His eyes lingered on hers a fraction longer than courtesy allowed. “Balance lies in knowing when to hold and when to bend.”