Page 121 of Of Iron and Moonlight

“When?” Duncan asked sharply.

“He is already on the way,” Garric said, glancing down at the dispatch.

Isander saw it first: the tremor in her clasped hands, the sway she could not quite hide. Her lips parted, but no sound came. Then her knees buckled.

“Koraleise!”

The room snapped into motion.

Duncan lunged and caught her before her head struck stone.

“I’m fine,” she gasped, breath thin. “I’m fine.”

“Clear the table,” Isander barked. “Make space. Water. Now.”

Maps and ledgers were swept aside. Cloaks were thrown down for padding. Duncan lifted her as though she were made of glass and laid her carefully down.

“Fever,” Nelsyn muttered.

“Poison,” Garric countered under his breath.

“I’m fine,” Koraleise insisted again, though barely stirring the air.

Duncan sat beside her and took her hand. His face had gone stark. “You’re freezing,” he said quietly, his thumb moving over her wrist as if to coax warmth back into it.

“Fetch Rensaya. Fetch a healer,” Isander ordered when it became clear Duncan was too taken by shock to do it himself.

Boots thundered up the stairs and the chamber cleared.

Isander and Merrick remained, both instinctively knowing Duncan should not be left to face this alone.

Koraleise tried to rise. She swayed and sank back, causing Duncan to draw a sharp breath. Merrick placed a hand on his shoulder, but Duncan did not seem to feel it.

Unsure what else to do, Isander moved to her other side and checked the flutter of her pulse.

The healer arrived in haste, Rensaya just behind him, Lyra close after with blankets. “Tell me,” he demanded, dropping his satchel onto the table.

“She collapsed,” Merrick answered.

“I’m only tired,” Koraleise said weakly. “Nothing to worry about.”

The healer looked at her sharply. “Are you with child?”

Koraleise and Duncan exchanged a glance, confusion more than anything else. Both shook their heads.

The healer rolled his sleeves and examined her. “Pulse is light but steady. No fever. No visible injury.” He frowned. “No sign of any poison I know of.”

Rensaya stood at the foot of the table, eyes half closed, listening in that peculiar way of hers. “It’s this place,” she said. “It feels wrong.”

“What do you mean?” Isander asked.

The healer straightened. “She is simply exhausted. Let her rest.”

Rensaya shook her head. “She needs air.”

“It would not be prudent to move her,” the healer insisted. “She is barely conscious.”

The tension between them held the room.