Page 188 of Of Iron and Moonlight

Ansel blessedly leaned forward, light brown eyes bright with effortless charm, before Kora was forced to respond. “Speaking of diversion,” she said, lowering her voice as though revealing state secrets, “since the Duchess of Kryovarre is not with us today, is it true what I hear? That Lady Seraphine has formally become Kryovarre’s mistress?”

Genefra snorted and dissolved into laughter. “My sister has a tryst with a lord one week and a visiting merchant the next. I can scarcely track her attachments.”

The ladies erupted in delighted cackling. Kora kept her expression composed, though relief threaded through her. Seraphine had kept her distance thus far.

“Ladies,” Genefra announced abruptly, dropping her embroidery into her lap, “I am famished.” She pushed herself upright. “Shall we prepare for dinner? You are welcome in the Duskmere apartments, since Wolmer refuses to host a single dinner party.”

“His wife was just murdered,” Heleine chided gently. “Have some sympathy.”

“That does not mean the rest of us must waste away from boredom,” Genefra replied with a dismissive wave. “Or starve.”

“Thank you,” Kora said, taking advantage of the moment as the ladies rose. “But I find myself suddenly tired. I’ll take dinner in my rooms tonight.”

Terrice rose as well, the soft rustle of her gown subdued by Genefra’s presence. “Would you like some company?” she asked quietly, concern softening her features.

Kora shook her head, offering a reassuring smile.

“Go on, dear,” Genefra declared, tossing her embroidery into a basket. “We shall attempt not to gossip about you. Though I make no promises.”

Kora dipped her head politely—not a curtsy. She reminded herself she stood above nearly all present, equal in rank to the rest, and resisted the old instinct still lingering faintly within her.

Vaelstrom Palace surrounded her in silent grandeur. Halls that once buzzed with chatter now stood emptied of nearly everyone. Curtains were drawn tight. Doors barred. Those who ventured out walked quickly, eyes lowered. The entire palace felt like a heart holding its breath, afraid of what the next beat might bring.

By the time Kora reached the Lemierre apartments, that tension had settled across her shoulders like a weighted shawl. She stepped inside, dismissed the few remaining attendants with a grateful word, and sank into the chair nearest the fire.

Her hand drifted to her stomach.

Genefra’s teasing prickled at her for an entirely different reason.

That week after the royal wedding, when she and Duncan had scarcely left their bed, that should have been enough. Pregnancy came easily. Young women conceived quickly. Kora had expected some subtle shift by now, some stirring of life beneath her ribs. But there was nothing but stillness—and a nagging fear coiling in her chest.

Her fingers pressed more firmly against her abdomen, and her thoughts slipped, inevitably, toward Duncan. She missed him with an ache so constant it had begun to feel like part of her very existence. Most of all she missed knowing he was alive and well, instead of imagining him wounded on a battlefield, stranded on a winter road, or simply gone.

She closed her eyes. Her breath trembled.

A scrape at the windowpane pulled her upright.

She turned just as a shadow slipped through the frame, resolving into broad shoulders, a lean frame, and a grin too mischievous to belong to anyone but Merrick Kal. His boots touched the carpet without sound, his brown eyes warm despite the eeriness of the palace.

Kora leapt to her feet and threw her arms around his neck, pressing a fervent kiss to his cheek. “Merrick,” she breathed, her voice cracking with unexpected joy. “How?”

He smirked as though slipping past imperial guards during a palace lockdown required little effort. “I found a few doors others have forgotten,” he said lightly. “Old habits.”

Her hands tightened on his arms. “Duncan. Isander. The Council. Are they safe?”

“Safe,” Merrick said, his tone softening. “And well.”

“And the war? Kryovarre? Alewyn?”

“Finished. We reached Vaelstrom a few days ago.”

Kora exhaled, and the breath felt as though it left her bones. “It’s been unbearable,” she admitted. “Being shut in here. Hearing nothing.”

“He misses you,” Merrick said, and this time the grin faded into something genuine. “He made certain I told you that. He worries. Thinks of little else.”

Kora blinked hard, willing the tears to stop, but her throat tightened anyway.

“I apologize it’s me and not him. We agreed it was safer this way. For now.”