Page 227 of Of Iron and Moonlight

“I—” Cassian’s composure faltered. “I did not because Ernst threatened Ardor’s trade contracts. When I dared call his bluff, he threatened my family.” He dragged a hand through his dark curls. “After what happened to the derWhittes… I dared not provoke anyone further.”

“Now thousands are dead,” Duncan murmured. “Tens of thousands.”

Cassian faced them. “Whatever punishment you see fit, I will accept.”

Wolmer cleared his throat. “We have more than enough men to punish for this,” he said quietly. “I will allow, just this once, that you helped us in the end.”

He leaned forward after a beat of silence. “Did you know,” he asked slowly, as if unsettled by the words, “of my brother’s involvement?”

Cassian straightened, almost relieved. He shook his head. “I knew of some of the Moonwarden’s darker dealings, but I could not imagine he would help House derDobroiov overthrow his own family.”

“It’s nonsensical,” Eamon muttered. “What did he possibly hope to gain?”

A tremor passed through Wolmer’s breath. Not anger. Shame. “I have now been informed of his… darker dealings,” he said quietly. He pressed the heel of his hand against his brow. “My own brother. I should have seen it.” Then, softer, “I should have known.”

The weight in his voice tugged unexpectedly at Duncan. “Hope blinds just as thoroughly as grief,” he said gently. Some of his irritation softened. “We all wish to believe the best of our brothers.” He paused, thinking of Garriden and Corwin. The fresh wound Isander left behind throbbed anew. “Has Firrigan been found?”

“I have men searching every corner of the Empire. If he surfaces, I will have his head…”

Wolmer fell silent a moment. Then, fury edged his voice, “When my father took the throne from House derDobroiov, he considered extinguishing their bloodline. But he looked at the endless bloodshed that had come before him and swore he would be the one to break the cycle.” His mouth tightened. “And look what that mercy has earned us. As though that were not enough, countless souls now suffer withdrawals from that abomination Kryovarre helped unleash.”

“Valdir is dead. Ernst will hang for aiding him.” Eamon glanced between them. “What will happen to the thrones of Kryovarre and Duskmere?”

Duncan felt a knot tighten in his chest. He had seen enough death. “We cannot allow grief to condemn mercy itself,” he said quickly. Carefully. “A noble intention does not become wrong simply because wicked men exploited it.”

Wolmer lifted a brow. “Are you suggesting I allow the heirs to live? How am I meant to trust they will not become reflections of their fathers?”

“Impossible,” Duncan replied. “We can only allow them to live long enough to reveal who they truly are. Let them make choices. Then judge those choices.” He leaned forward slightly. “A son may live in his father’s shadow, but he is not his father.”

“Yet we are both our fathers’ sons, you and I,” Wolmer said thoughtfully. A faint smile touched his mouth. “No matter how difficult it becomes, we aim to break from the darker traditions that shaped this world. We try to be better men.”

“We are fortunate in the fathers we had,” Duncan agreed. “But the names we have made for ourselves now stand on their own.” He realized, as he said it, that he truly believed it.

Wolmer considered that in silence until his shoulders eased. “You are right,” he murmured. “I cannot condemn a child for sins not their own. I will not rule that way. And uprooting two duchies at once would plunge the Empire into chaos.”

Duncan eased back in his chair.

For a while the only sound was the crackle of fire.

“I am more concerned,” Cassian said eventually, as if waking from a dream, “about what the knowledge of fae ancestry may bring. There will be no containing it now.”

“Or what the Norrelian King’s interest in our affairs may mean,” Eamon added darkly.

“One thing is certain,” Wolmer declared. “The concoction must be destroyed. That kind of power is dangerous enough on its own. The mark it leaves on those who consume it is worse. I would see no more of my subjects suffer from it.” His expression hardened as his eyes drifted to Duncan. “How is your wife faring? Will she survive the aftereffects of the oraivane?”

Duncan went still. “She never took the draught.”

Eamon’s brows lifted. “She was seen running from the Kryovarre camp, and she has green eyes. I assumed she had taken the mixture.”

Duncan shook his head. “We believe it has something to do with the amulet her father brought from the fae lands. It is enchanted to protect the wearer, he claimed. It appears to awaken the dormant fae magic in her blood as well.”

Cassian’s complexion paled. “Is she able to control it?”

“No,” Duncan admitted. “She cannot command it willingly, and she does not understand it yet. Likely, her emotions triggered it when she believed I was dying.”

“That is… troubling,” Wolmer said, sitting straighter. “I am not certain I can allow her—”

“You will not touch my wife,” Duncan interrupted. His jaw tightened as he looked Wolmer directly in the eyes. “I chose the Empire over her once. I will not do it again.”